Well, here's the sequel to Kinsinger. If you haven't read that, I suggest you do so. This story probably won't make much sense without it. Um, if you have any suggestions for names, please let me know. This is a tentative name, and might be changed. Also, I can't promise new chapters anytime soon, since I'm also working on the next chapter of Rebirth, but believe me, they will come. I'm not giving up on this story. Sorry this is so short, but if you review the next one might be longer. This story is dedicated to Aemilia Rose. Without her, it wouldn't have been written.

Enjoy!

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Kinhunter

By Sigil

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In the midst of a blizzard, twelve horses pushed onward. At first glance, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary about their riders. They could have been any small caravan coming to the hall of the lord that lived just over the next hill.

Until you looked closer. Then you could see the daggers in their boots, the swords under their winter furs, the poison-tipped arrows in their quivers. These were not men to be trifled with. These were men on a mission.

Upon cresting the hill, their leader turned, shouting over the storm. "We will lodge here for tonight. Perhaps the Kinsinger has not moved on yet."

And as they approached, the leader muttered to himself, "And perhaps if he has, my brother will give up this foolish quest and let us rest. One man is not worth the men I've lost looking for him."

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Inside the lord's hall, Teril stared moodily out into the storm from the safety of a window. By his feet, the twins Thye and Quen spoke quietly to each other. They were used to the minstrel's swift mood changes after his stories.

Finally, the minstrel spoke. "I should not have stayed here so long. Now, I cannot leave." He glanced at the children. "They will come for me. This storm will not stop them."

"Who, Teril?" Thye asked. "The men who want to hurt you?"

"Yes. Julian Cirena is their leader. He will not come himself, of course. He'll send his brother, Damian, to do the dirty work. Julian was never one to bloody his own hands without dire need."

Quen looked at him suspiciously. "Did you know him?" He demanded. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

"I've been hunted by them all my life. Their father hunted my father. It's one of those great family traditions that come back to haunt you."

"Is that why you can't stay?" Thye asked miserably.

"Yes. If they find me here - . Well, let's just say that I want that tradition to end a different way. And certainly not by my death."

Quen frowned and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a commotion at the door. Twelve men had entered the room, shaking snow from their hair. The tallest, and obviously the leader, looked around the hall. Something about his eyes reminded Thye of a hawk - they saw everything, glaring out at the world with the calm assurance of a hunter who knew he would get his prey eventually.

Teril drew in a deep breath.

"They have come."

TBC