Again, the obligatory occasional disclaimer: this is a work of fanfiction. The world and many of its places and characters, such as Raoul, Corus, and Persopolis were created by Tamora Pierce, who is insanely amazing and awesome.

Hope you're enjoying the story. Please let me know if you have any feedback about it! I'd love to know what people's impressions are of it.

If Corrin had been thinking, he might have remembered how dangerous things could get in the hill country. It was, after all, his homeland. And if the memories of his childhood weren't strong enough, he had gone on numerous trips into the hills with Lord Raoul. It was thanks to a hill tribesman's arrow that his gray Feather had been lamed.

Irene reached the top of the hill first. Tallis reined his mount in a stride behind her, and a second after that Corrin's black Fury skidded to a halt with the other two.

"Well, what did I say?" Irene said smugly. "Brother dear, you will never learn to outride me."

"Well, not if you cheat," he said with a smile. "It's not a fair race if you start before we do."

"You just don't want to admit that I might be better than you at- what's wrong?" She had caught a look of Tallis' face. The lanky knight was looking over the hill, his mouth sharp and his eyes fixed as he gathered the reins that he had loosened only a moment ago.

"I don't know. I thought I saw… we should go," he said suddenly.

"Tallis?" Corrin jogged Fury forwards a few paces to a better vantage point, his right hand dropping off the reins to fall lightly over his sword hilt. There was a line of trees below them, and Corrin could see shapes moving in them. He was about to agree that they leave when an arrow whizzed out of the trees and whistled by his ear. Thank the gods that whoever shot was not a better marksman, or markswoman.

"Irene!" He shouted, drawing his sword as his mind raced. They had to get her back—but what if there were others behind them—couldn't keep her near a fight—why didn't he have his shield, or a bow—idiot—"RIDE," he yelled to her.

Irene didn't bother to argue. Eyes wide, she pivoted her horse and took off back down the hill they had raced up. Corrin was reluctant to give up the high ground, but they needed cover from the arrows. Tallis followed him partway down the hill after Irene, then the two knights turned back to the threat.

"Should we run?" Tallis suggested. The other knight had drawn his sword, as well.

"They're on our land," Corrin said, eyebrows furrowed.

"Right," Tallis said. "And they could have a mage. Or several. Or an archer with more luck? Gods know how many of them there are."

"You're right," Corrin said. "Follow my sister. I'll be behind you. I want to see more of them."

"As if," Tallis said, his voice hushed.

Crouching low over Fury's neck, Corrin rode back up to the top of the hill for a second before spurring Fury back down the slope again.

"They haven't left the trees," he whispered. "There can't be that many of them. They'd have come out if they thought they could take us."

"Unless it's a trap. Let's go back."

"Tallis," Corrin said. "You were the one who wanted to go on an adventure. Don't tell me getting knighted made you a coward?"

"This is stupid," Tallis said. "Okay. The trick is getting to them before any arrows get to us."

"So we take them in a charge," Corrin said.

"You realize we're both going to get killed, yes?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

They both laughed shakily and quietly.

"On my count," Tallis said.

They burst over the hill and descended with their swords out. There was no volley of arrows, but only a few that spun towards them at brief intervals. Good, Corrin thought for a moment; there must only be one archer… and then an arrow stuck him in the shoulder. The pain was sudden an unexpected, but dulled by the adrenaline that came in anticipation of a fight.

In cold calculation, he simply acknowledged a thankfulness that it was not his sword hand's shoulder that had been hit, and then they were at the trees.

There were five tribesmen, and only two of them mounted. When they saw the knights charge, one of the men broke and ran.

The archer was a woman. She pulled out a long knife to fight with, but not long enough. Corrin had a good deal of reach on her. He cut her down as she leapt towards him.

A shout from Tallis brought him to his other side, where one of the horsemen had pulled up to him with an axe that looked more appropriate for cutting lumber. Corrin awkwardly blocked a swing, having to reach his sword to the other side of Fury to do so. He turned his mount with his knees as the axe man swung again, the two maneuvering around each other.

This time, the axe man attacked Fury, under the assumption that the horse was an easier target. Corrin parried the blow as Fury reared and lashed out with his heavy hooves, renting a bloody gash across the chest of the tribesman's large pony. Corrin stuck the man with his sword and wrenched it back out, then turned to Tallis.

Tallis had killed the other mounted fighter, but the fourth who hadn't run—another woman—stood with her arms in the air. At her feet lay a cheap sword that she had probably never been trained to use. Tallis had begun to swing at her, but seeing that she was defenseless he stopped himself in time.

For a moment they sat their horses in silence. Tallis slowly lowered his sword, watching the hill woman carefully to make sure that she wouldn't try anything. She stared big-eyed at him, arms still raised, breathing heavily in fear. Corrin peered after the man who had run, but the man was out of sight. Slowly the pain in his shoulder grew, and he remembered that he had taken a wound.

The arrowhead was buried in his shoulder, the body of the shaft sticking out like a branch from a tree. He grimaced and reached up to hold it in place so it wouldn't jostle when he moved.

"You alright?" Tallis asked, eyes flicking over briefly.

"I'll be fine," Corrin said, and then: "Irene. We should make sure…" he didn't have to finish. If by chance she had encountered trouble along the way back, they couldn't afford to sit still and let time pass. Every second would count.

"You ride," Tallis said. "I'll follow with the girl."

"If more of them come—" Corrin said.

"I won't be far behind. But I'm not riding double without her hands bound." Tallis slipped off his mount, pointed his sword at the girl in warning, and untied the crude rope belt one of the corpses had previously been wearing. The woman let out half a sob and clapped her hand over her mouth.

"If you don't act up, I'm barely going to touch you," Tallis said. "Come on, hands out."

Corrin urged Fury forwards again into a canter, not wanting to wear the horse out with a gallop when they were a ways off from Erwold still. His head spun with every sharp throb of his shoulder, but he forced himself onward. He had worked while wounded before, plenty of times with Raoul. But this was the first time he had been in this sort of situation without his knight-master nearby. Fervently the man wished that Lord Sir Raoul was there.

He caught up to Irene halfway back to Erwold. In more familiar ground, she had slowed to let her brother catch up to her, in hopes that he would not be long (or, permanently) delayed by the hill men. She gasped when she saw the arrow.

"We have to get you back," Irene exclaimed.

"Not yet," Corrin said, gritting his teeth. "We have to wait for Tallis."

"Where is he?"

"Took a prisoner."

He explained what had happened to Irene in a few short words, and both of them relaxed when Tallis rode into sight. He held the reins of one of the tribesman's horses, a bony lean animal, with the hill woman tied to the saddle.

It wasn't until they were all headed back to Erwold proper that the adrenaline began to leave Corrin and the reality of what they had done began to sink in. Shame filled him. Yes, they had fought for their lives, but it had hardly been a fight. These were not people trained to use weapons. The woman with the bow had attacked them first by shooting at them, but they could have run. They didn't have to fight…

No, part of him knew it had been justified. If the two knights hadn't been mounted, or hadn't been knights for that matter, the hill people wouldn't have hesitated to attack them, either. And then they wouldn't be able to defend themselves. Leaving them alive and armed would have been a poor idea. There were farmers living out here, houses that could have been raided. Perhaps he should have taken the weapons from the bodies.

Still, he couldn't help but feel that he had done something inherently wrong, something to be ashamed of.

Word spread quickly once they reached the castle. Once all three of them had dismounted, Tallis began to untie the hill woman from the saddle. Lady Adeline ran out as a hostler took first Corrin, then Irene's reins. Another hostler held Tallis' mount and the reins of the hill horse, waiting for the woman to be taken off its back.

Adeline embraced Irene tightly for a long moment, then forced Corrin to sit down on a bench so that she could examine the arrow wound while the healer was sent for. The jostling of riding and fighting had caused it to bleed more than it would have left still, and while the arrow head still plugged up the wound the surrounding tunic was damp and dark with blood.

Lord Sir Dryden strode into the yard next and surveyed the whole scene with a grim face. He spat at the hill woman.

"Take her around back and cut off her head," he ordered.

"With all respect," Tallis said, "she's disarmed, and she's my prisoner, sir. She surrendered."

"She's an outlaw," the Lord insisted. "Scum. The moment you set her free she'll be back to thieving and killing."

"That may be, but she'll see trial in Corus."

Lord Sir Dryden frowned and straightened, pulling up to his full height, which equaled Tallis.

"Boy, these are my lands, and this is my justice. You're a guest of my hospitality, and I'm in no mood to play games."

"If being a guest means killing someone I don't have to kill, my lord, with all due respect, I'll take my leave."

Tallis turned to Corrin. "I'll meet you in Persopolis. There's an inn called The Sand Wench."

He gestured for the hostler to keep his reins, then went inside to gather his things. No one stopped him. Dryden snorted, shook his head, and walked over to Corrin.

"You keep strange company, his father said, as the healer came out with a basket of supplies. "How many were there?"

"Five. One ran while we were busy with the others."

"And how many did you get?"

"Two. Tallis got the third, then the girl."

Dryden nodded, as Corrin hissed in pain and tightened his hands into fists.

"Good. Should've gotten them all, of course. It's not like they put up much of a fight."

Dryden stood awkwardly, looked at his son for a long moment, and turned on his heel to walk back inside. His father gone, Corrin swore at the pain. The healer made a small, final cut, then pulled out the arrowhead and immediately pressed a thick wad of bandage over the wound. His sleeve had already been cut away from the puncture so that it wouldn't get in the way. The healer placed her hand carefully over the bandage, a faint yellow glow emanating from her palm.

"Can't you do anything about the pain?" He asked.

The woman shook her head. "Sorry, master Corrin, I'm only good for infections."

"No, it's fine. Thank you." He shut his eyes as she finished spelling and wrapping the wound, and his mother took his hand.

"You know," Adeline said, "I think your father was actually proud of you."

"He has a funny way of showing it."

"He always does."

Corrin wanted to leave that night, but nobody would hear of it. He had dinner with them all again that evening, his arm in a sling to keep his shoulder from being overly jostled by movement. Dryden said little to him, but Corrin took it by way of compliment.

The next morning, a tunic covering the bandage and his shield once again strapped to his saddle, Corrin said his farewells and rode away from fief Erwold. He would miss his mother and his sister, as he always did. But he was ready to be gone.