It was morning without a dawn to which she woke, the darkness of the storm easing her into sleep once more, were she to let it. She would not though, forcing her eyes open. Doing so caused pain to lance along the left side of her face and gingerly she touched at the wound. There was the gellish beginning of a scab that came off onto her fingers at the slight touch, causing the wounds to ooze softly. It was two, really, though they had come in one stroke.
One line lay below her eye, one above. Whimpering she sat up, hugging herself for warmth, her limbs soaked thoroughly. There was no way she could think that the night previous had been a dream, for beside her lay her black sword, half buried in the mud. The slash lay on her face too, and that was the most concrete evidence. It would be there for life, though her sword she could pick up, and in fact, did.
She cleaned it as best she could on her tunic, which, through the never ending rain, had, at least for the part of the front, become clean. Blue gleaming yellow eyes darted about, settling on the knife, still in the trunk of the tree. The man had wanted to leave no doubt in her mind as to what had happened, it seemed. She stalked to the tree, retrieving the blade and holstering it in her sleeve.
Slipping from the woods she eyed the town she had been the night previous. A town she intended to avoid now. Unfortunately, there were many others that had just been added to that list last night. She was bound to codes over all else, and now, her job was forfeit, and, were she to return to her previous employer, her life.
She began jogging across rain slickened ground as though it were not. She utilized fully the grace of her half elvish heritage to add speed to her run. She had to pick up the items she had left, extra clothing, one extra cloak included, and food. Her money, however, remained on her. She fingered the pouch as she ran, knowing, and hating what she had to do with most of it.
Her run ended midday as she came upon the town from which she had come. The town where her things lay. This had not been near her last visit, but it would be her last...
She started it by climbing the wall that led to her room on the second floor of an old inn. The window faced an alley, a choice view only if one didn't have a view in mind. The ivy on the wall was not exactly sturdy, and most people would not use it for climbing, because they would fall. She grinned a bit, not her though, she had been given all the grace of a hunter. Grace which allowed her to willingly pick out the cheapest rooms in inns.
She hopped into the room, eyes skimming it. None had entered. None would, bother. Grinning she shuttered her window, stripping wet and still mostly muddy clothes. She had worn normal clothing beneath dark cloak and now all that was left was a sneak suit used for robbing houses generally. Well, that was beautiful, one quick way to draw the attention of authorities in just about any town.
Snarling she scrubbed clean with a basin she had left filled with water when she had left. Then she slipped into it the sneak suit and secured the weapons about her. She glanced at her soaked outfit. The shirt was blood stained near the collar, despite the rain, but the pants could be cleaned well enough.
She left the pants and shirt both draped to dry as she pulled the spare cloak on. She was just glad she had paid a week in advance, though she wouldn't get her money back, at least she wasn't checked on and asked for payment. Considering she'd been gone over a day. Shrugging off that thought she slipped down and to the common room of the inn. Mostly empty, considering it was not yet late enough for the night crowd of drinkers.
The person she wanted to see, however, was there. She strode forward, fingering one of the pouches of money she had. She tossed it down on the table in front of him. "Hire someone else," she snarled softly, keeping gender concealed, "I cannot do the job."
The man looked up to her, and she for the first time saw his face. It was old, weathered and he had squinty eyes that shifted coolly, calculatingly. "What? Too much of a task for the little baby wolfy?" he asked sarcastically and a nervous tingle burned along her spine.
"He had my life in his hands and mockingly spared it, I am bound by all codes I honor to return this favor. Else I would not have left this job unfinished," She growled with eyes narrowed as they began darting. The others in the room were close, as though listening in. Not that it mattered, no one even bother to keep dealing such as this secret here.
"Any other hunter could have quit, and it would be acceptable to spare them, but for you." He eyed her. "I've watched you Wolf, watched how you work. You didn't just quit that hunt... did you? You are bound by him, bound away from all usefulness to me." He gave a nod and the men nearing sprung.
And with that, she turned, dark sword leaping from it's sheath. These were not innocents, not a single one of them could be even remotely called such. There would be no remorse in annihilating them, normally, and yet, she could not bring herself to bring a single killing blow. It was common sense that held her back. If she killed any there would be a price on her head perhaps greater then on the man that had bested her the night previous.
She pushed through with amazing speed and skill, whirling to meet blades with her own, even pulling out one of two daggers now. She spun and whirled, evading blocking, and returning with blows that often hurt her opponents, leaving them dazed. But, as she fled the inn, left not one dead. She ran, pulling herself into the stable and ducking low as she moved along the stalls, eyeing each and every horse she passed.
They settled on one. It was dark grey of coat, with dark eyes that seemed almost brooding, though they weren't. And, best yet, it didn't shy away from her eyes as she pushed back the hood of her cloak, which she quickly pulled back up. She pulled herself onto it's back, unlatching the door, but leaving it closed as she lay low on the bare back of the horse, waiting.
Three mean entered, cautious as they held lanterns up in the half light, trying to catch site of the hunted hunter. But she was as a shadow, a patch of black atop the grey horse. They came closer, looking around, and, by some inborn instinct, rather then digging her heels in she whispered a word to the horse.
She did, however need to use her heels to hold on, for with that whisper the horse sprang forward, a bolt of dark lightening that scattered the men. She hung on for dear life as it bolted onwards and into the streets, guided only occasionally by her words, but, it seemed, the beats had a destination of it own in mind.
And so she found herself, riding a road through the woods, towards destination unknown, former life left behind. Though she knew it would haunt her always.
One line lay below her eye, one above. Whimpering she sat up, hugging herself for warmth, her limbs soaked thoroughly. There was no way she could think that the night previous had been a dream, for beside her lay her black sword, half buried in the mud. The slash lay on her face too, and that was the most concrete evidence. It would be there for life, though her sword she could pick up, and in fact, did.
She cleaned it as best she could on her tunic, which, through the never ending rain, had, at least for the part of the front, become clean. Blue gleaming yellow eyes darted about, settling on the knife, still in the trunk of the tree. The man had wanted to leave no doubt in her mind as to what had happened, it seemed. She stalked to the tree, retrieving the blade and holstering it in her sleeve.
Slipping from the woods she eyed the town she had been the night previous. A town she intended to avoid now. Unfortunately, there were many others that had just been added to that list last night. She was bound to codes over all else, and now, her job was forfeit, and, were she to return to her previous employer, her life.
She began jogging across rain slickened ground as though it were not. She utilized fully the grace of her half elvish heritage to add speed to her run. She had to pick up the items she had left, extra clothing, one extra cloak included, and food. Her money, however, remained on her. She fingered the pouch as she ran, knowing, and hating what she had to do with most of it.
Her run ended midday as she came upon the town from which she had come. The town where her things lay. This had not been near her last visit, but it would be her last...
She started it by climbing the wall that led to her room on the second floor of an old inn. The window faced an alley, a choice view only if one didn't have a view in mind. The ivy on the wall was not exactly sturdy, and most people would not use it for climbing, because they would fall. She grinned a bit, not her though, she had been given all the grace of a hunter. Grace which allowed her to willingly pick out the cheapest rooms in inns.
She hopped into the room, eyes skimming it. None had entered. None would, bother. Grinning she shuttered her window, stripping wet and still mostly muddy clothes. She had worn normal clothing beneath dark cloak and now all that was left was a sneak suit used for robbing houses generally. Well, that was beautiful, one quick way to draw the attention of authorities in just about any town.
Snarling she scrubbed clean with a basin she had left filled with water when she had left. Then she slipped into it the sneak suit and secured the weapons about her. She glanced at her soaked outfit. The shirt was blood stained near the collar, despite the rain, but the pants could be cleaned well enough.
She left the pants and shirt both draped to dry as she pulled the spare cloak on. She was just glad she had paid a week in advance, though she wouldn't get her money back, at least she wasn't checked on and asked for payment. Considering she'd been gone over a day. Shrugging off that thought she slipped down and to the common room of the inn. Mostly empty, considering it was not yet late enough for the night crowd of drinkers.
The person she wanted to see, however, was there. She strode forward, fingering one of the pouches of money she had. She tossed it down on the table in front of him. "Hire someone else," she snarled softly, keeping gender concealed, "I cannot do the job."
The man looked up to her, and she for the first time saw his face. It was old, weathered and he had squinty eyes that shifted coolly, calculatingly. "What? Too much of a task for the little baby wolfy?" he asked sarcastically and a nervous tingle burned along her spine.
"He had my life in his hands and mockingly spared it, I am bound by all codes I honor to return this favor. Else I would not have left this job unfinished," She growled with eyes narrowed as they began darting. The others in the room were close, as though listening in. Not that it mattered, no one even bother to keep dealing such as this secret here.
"Any other hunter could have quit, and it would be acceptable to spare them, but for you." He eyed her. "I've watched you Wolf, watched how you work. You didn't just quit that hunt... did you? You are bound by him, bound away from all usefulness to me." He gave a nod and the men nearing sprung.
And with that, she turned, dark sword leaping from it's sheath. These were not innocents, not a single one of them could be even remotely called such. There would be no remorse in annihilating them, normally, and yet, she could not bring herself to bring a single killing blow. It was common sense that held her back. If she killed any there would be a price on her head perhaps greater then on the man that had bested her the night previous.
She pushed through with amazing speed and skill, whirling to meet blades with her own, even pulling out one of two daggers now. She spun and whirled, evading blocking, and returning with blows that often hurt her opponents, leaving them dazed. But, as she fled the inn, left not one dead. She ran, pulling herself into the stable and ducking low as she moved along the stalls, eyeing each and every horse she passed.
They settled on one. It was dark grey of coat, with dark eyes that seemed almost brooding, though they weren't. And, best yet, it didn't shy away from her eyes as she pushed back the hood of her cloak, which she quickly pulled back up. She pulled herself onto it's back, unlatching the door, but leaving it closed as she lay low on the bare back of the horse, waiting.
Three mean entered, cautious as they held lanterns up in the half light, trying to catch site of the hunted hunter. But she was as a shadow, a patch of black atop the grey horse. They came closer, looking around, and, by some inborn instinct, rather then digging her heels in she whispered a word to the horse.
She did, however need to use her heels to hold on, for with that whisper the horse sprang forward, a bolt of dark lightening that scattered the men. She hung on for dear life as it bolted onwards and into the streets, guided only occasionally by her words, but, it seemed, the beats had a destination of it own in mind.
And so she found herself, riding a road through the woods, towards destination unknown, former life left behind. Though she knew it would haunt her always.