It had been six days since Glazyre had escaped from Alans Bay with the monk girl named Aine. It had been a long and arduous journey, especially within the first few days away from the city. They had been forced to travel fast, fearing pursuit after the jailbreak. But they had survived, even though the young monk had trouble in keeping up with the lithe endurance of the thief. She tired very easily, and Glazyre began to feel that this would be a long journey indeed. But the prize...the prize would be grand.

Glazyre had the chance of capturing the most precious jewel in Hyrule, the legendary Tear Stone that he had only heard of in half remembered tales told in the taverns and whorehouses he had visited in his short lifetime. Glazyre didn't fully believe that such a stone existed, and even if it did he doubted that it truly fell from the eye of a Goddess that didn't exist. Nevertheless he had a debt to pay, and if traveling with this naive young woman might somehow see him finding the rarest treasure ever he would do it gladly.

And so he trudged along, climbing a rise on the vast plain, Aine laboring behind him with ragged breaths. They traveled west, toward his homeland of Merr, where this stone was said to exist in the highest reaches of the Avkarat Ranges. He never thought that he would once more see the rolling hills and sweltering swamps of his homeland, never wished to in truth. There were too many bad memories there, memories that he had not yet fully come to terms with. But a debt was a debt, and he was no man if he could not help this young woman as she had helped him.

He looked back at the monk. Her light brown hair was wet with sweat, falling into her eyes. This journey would be hard on her. She was already struggling and they had not even reached the most difficult part of the journey yet. The Gerudo Wastes were not a place for the weak; more travelers than could be counted had disappeared in its shifting sands never to return.

With the sun setting red and orange in the western sky Glazyre at last called a halt to their march. He shrugged off his pack, which was full of provisions they had purchased before leaving, and settled down under a grove of trees he had spotted not long before. Aine did the same, collapsing in a heap beneath a tree and taking a long swallow from her water skin. She still wore the same simple white dress that he had first seen her in. He had urged her to abandon it for more travel-worthy clothing but she had refused, unwilling to wear anything but that which identified her as a Kiran monk.

Glazyre went about starting a campfire, collecting wood from beneath the grove. By the time full night had fallen it was crackling well, sending sparks into the air. They ate a modest dinner of dried meat and some apples they had collected from a tree they had chanced upon the night before. Aine, like she did every night, reached into her pack and pulled out her heavy book of psalms. He had urged her to abandon this as well, so that her pack didn't wear so heavy on her back. She, of course, had refused.

He sat cross-legged before the fire, watching her read.

"Why do you waste your time on that?"

Aine looked up, appraising him critically. "Studying the teachings of the Three Mothers is not a waste of time." She said, her eyes dropping once more to the leather-bound book.

Glazyre poked at the fire with a stick and said, "I tried to read that huge pile of paper and leather once when I was a child. I found it confusingly archaic and mind numbingly boring."

"An unfortunate opinion," Aine said without looking up, "much can be gleaned from this 'pile of paper and leather'."

"Like what?" He inquired, his voice sardonic.

Aine looked up, "...And again I say, those who believeth in the true love of the Mothers, those whose heart's are filled with charity and warmth, shall not walk in darkness but be glorified in the light, for Farore said 'Live with truth and caring, with love and goodwill and thy spirit will sit amongst us in the glories of Heaven." Aine looked at him as if the quoted passage would somehow change his entire outlook. He was almost sorry to disappoint her.

"Here is another lesson," Glazyre said, "If you live with truth and caring, love and goodwill, you will find yourself knifed in the back and stripped of all your belongings. This world doesn't give a damn about how charitable you are, or how warm your heart is. That is why I don't give a damn about it."

"But that is so untrue...there are those who truly care in this world--"

"There is only one person that people care about--themselves," Glazyre snapped. He found himself becoming annoyed at Aine's unconditional trust.

"What happened to you to fill you with so much hate?" Aine asked.

He sat silent.

Aine watched him; he could feel her eyes on him as he stared into the fire. There was an uncomfortable silence, and Glazyre started to wonder if he should say something to change the subject. When the silence stretched on even longer he couldn't take it anymore.

"Tell me this, Aine. What kind of a Goddess would sit by idly and watch a mother abandon her son? What kind of Goddess would watch as a boy was left alone to fend for himself, with no friend? Tell me that, monk. Tell me what kind of Goddess would sit and watch when a boy sobs and cries, praying--no, pleading-- to the heavens for his mother to come back, so that he wouldn't be cold and alone anymore? What kind of Goddess is that, Aine?" When she didn't answer he asked once more.

"...I don't know" was all she could say. She looked at him, pity in her eyes. He hated that look.

"Well I do know. The kind of Goddess that could do that is cold and uncaring and deserves no worship from me." He slid around, lying down with his back to the fire.

"Good night." He said.

* * *

Takiya was close now. She had been hard on her quarry's tale for five days now, drawing nearer with each cycle of the firmament, readying herself for her final kill. The pair she chased was obviously skilled; they revealed their tracks in such a way that she almost lost the trail several times. If it weren't for the woodcraft that Tigrin had taught her she would most likely be wondering aimlessly in this maze of flowing grasses. But her heart was set, her legs tireless, and her knife ready...