Author's Note: Just so I don't get in any trouble, I've been influenced by R.A. Salvatore's Dark Elf trilogies (namely Homeland, Exile, Sojourn). So if you wondered about that . . . lol you were right. Heh, I wonder if I'm evil for not revealing Rinoa's secret just yet. The ironic thing is I was going to in this chapter b/c I didn't think it was a big deal. Then I read all the reviews and might just throw a twist into it. Lol, yep, definitely evil.

Rinoa ran sobbing. She felt rejection, shame, pain from the fact she'd never be normal. She'd never have a 'normal life,' and most of all, someone to love her. Trees passed by her in a blur as she blindly ran on, trying to escape the truth of Quistis's words. She hiccupped back a sob. She promised! She promised . . .

The snow began to fall again, and the tears that fell from Rinoa's soft face turned to ice after leaving the warmth of her skin. After running for a while into the forest, Rinoa fell to the ground, and crawled up to the base of a tree. She pulled her knees up and curled into a ball, trying to console herself. She rocked herself. I'll always be alone . . . except for Angelo. Thankfully Quistis doesn't know about him.

She pulled out a small shiny clear orb. She concentrated on summoning her pet. "Angelo come to me."

The figure of a dog materialized. Angelo barked happily and worriedly at his mistress. He nuzzled up to her and she began to cry again. Angelo tried his best to comfort Rinoa, but sensed a presence. His ears pricked up and he growled threateningly. He stood in front of Rinoa, protectively.

Rinoa didn't hear the soft growl through her sobs. "Squall," she whispered regretfully.

"You called?" replied a deep, rich voice from behind her.

Rinoa did hear that. She looked up happily and wiped away the tears. "Squall?" she asked unsure that he was really there.

He gave her a slight smile, as much as he was able to smile. It was a foreign feeling to him – to express joy or to comfort someone. It was a subject definitely not taught at the mercenary academy. Personal relationships were recently strictly forbidden unless arranged by Ultimecia herself. She handpicked the couple in order to breed more efficient, stronger soldiers.

Squall took another step closer to her, but Angelo growled louder and snarled at him, warning him to stay back. "I'd help you up, but your guard dog here doesn't seem to like me."

"Oh!" Rinoa laughed slightly, causing more tears to squeeze from her eyes. "Angelo! Down boy!"

The dog calmed down and sat on its haunches, close to its mistress, while sniffing Squall.

"Sorry," Rinoa sniffed. "He's a little protective." She gave him a small smile.

Squall tread over the fallen snow to reach her. He kneeled down and offered a hand. "You should be inside now." He stared at Rinoa's face in the soft light. It was illuminated with a soft glow and all he could think of was how much he wanted to caress her, to hold her in his arms protectively. He wanted her to feel as if nothing would harm her. But he reigned in his emotions. To be ruled by feelings was a flaw severely punished by your enemy, by the academy. Although Squall wasn't sure how much of their teachings were true.

Rinoa brushed off the snow from her cloak and accepted the outstretched hand gingerly. She didn't want to tell him and even if she did, she didn't know how. She avoided his gaze and silently started upon the path towards the village. "Walk me back?" she asked softly.

Squall nodded his consent. "As far as I can."

He wanted to force her to tell him what was wrong, what was bothering her. But looking at her crestfallen figure, he knew there would be no response. So he took what she offered, her company. And it was enough.

The two figures tread across the white path, covered by layers of snow. Most life forms were frozen away, dormant until the sun melted the cold. Only humans would go into the forest or into the cold, and even then it was a foolish decision, either made by necessity or stupidity. Nature was not kind to those who didn't follow common sense.

Rinoa took in her surroundings, despite the hood covering her head. The winter scene reminded her of Squall – frozen away from the world, alone, and enduring. He had survived in his conscience and his morals, when so many others didn't know what the two words meant. She admired his strength and only wished she could have borrowed it. She couldn't tell him. He would hate her and what little companionship she did have left would be gone. She was what he feared the most.

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Quistis kicked the side of the cave in anger and frustration. What did Rinoa have that she didn't? The sweet and innocent act? Squall should have seen through it. I should have told Squall when I had the chance. Then there would have been no competition. Her strands of blond hair fell out of place and she hastily tucked them behind her ear. She had spent too much time thinking and it was becoming nightfall. She needed to get back to the village immediately. The snow lions were known to attack at night, and in packs.

Quistis set out from the cave, taking a moment to discern her whereabouts. Rinoa had crisscrossed paths and backtracked too many times for her to count. She was south of the town she guessed and began to head north. Her boots made a lot of noise as her haste overcame her abilities for stealth. The sunlight was quickly fading and Quistis was scared of being alone. She had plenty of training, but not a lot of field experience. And she knew that was where it mattered.

She began running as dusk turned to night and a howl could be heard the distance. Quistis wasn't far from the town, but she wasn't close either. She began to sweat and breathe hard due to fear and exhaustion. She kept running.

"Damn Squall! Damn Rinoa!" she swore under her breath. She would have been safe inside the town if it weren't for them.

Quistis should not have talked. She should not have mentioned the one name that was infamous to men and mercenaries alike. Too bad common sense had left her with the falling of the night. It was her first mistake.

An object whistled through the air and Quistis didn't manage to move out of its way before the knife embedded itself in her shoulder blade. She yelled in pain but continued to run, after stumbling for a couple of steps. The blood ran down her shoulder and drops fell onto the ground.

Her heart thudded in her chest. Breathe! Run! Run! Simple thoughts filled her mind and left her dangerously unguarded against the intelligent predators of the forest. She stumbled over a tree root that she couldn't see.

Quistis was more than terrified. She knew there was something following her, but she couldn't hear it. She almost wished she could have seen what was chasing her, so that she would know where her enemy was, or even what it was. Perhaps it was one of the hunters, thinking she was a deer. Not the most rational thought, but a thought. The next thought was interrupted as Quistis heard the familiar, terrifying whistle of a blade. She tried to dodge, but the owner of the weapon had anticipated that and it embedded in her other shoulder.

Quistis fell to the ground, bleeding small trickles of blood. She stumbled to get up. She needed to run, to get away. Please, Please! I don't want to die. Hyne save me, I don't want to die! Her last prayer. The blonde woman continued to run, unfortunately not towards the village. Her hunter had scared her witless and she had forgotten which direction she should have run.

Branches cracked under the boots as Quistis frantically scrambled to get out of the night, out of the forest. She should have paid more attention, but her fear knew no rational. She wanted to scream, but it would cause her to lose precious air, as well as letting other predators know her whereabouts. Quistis turned around, trying to see who was chasing her. There was nothing but shadows, peering out at her, daring her to keep her courage.

Her last mistake.

She ran into a tree and fell to the floor, trying to get up, but not quick enough. A cloaked figure stopped in front of her, holding a blade to her throat. He smirked and in that smile mocked her for her efforts to live, to survive and escape her nightmares. It had only begun.

"W-w-ho are you?" Quistis whimpered in pain and fear. Her normal brave, arrogant demeanor had been replaced. She tried to move away but there were no exits between the man and the tree.

The man leaned over, removing the cowl covering his head. "Your fucking knight in armor," he taunted. Seifer leaned down and roughly pulled Quistis to her feet. He turned her around and pulled his knives out. The chase was thrilling for him. Seifer felt his training had finally been put to good use. The sheer power and adrenaline overwhelmed him. Her life was forfeit, his to do with as he wished. He could only imagine the power Ultimecia would bring him.

The harsh movement of removing the daggers caused Quistis to cry out. Blood flowed freely down her back. She wanted to die right then because she was afraid of the torture the hooded figure offered. It seemed a much more merciful alternative.

Seifer looked at her in disgust. She was weak. Civilians were weak. They did not deserve to rule the world, let alone live. He prepared a cure spell. He only wanted to close her wounds, not to ease her suffering. He needed her alive. She would be his link to finding Squall.

Quistis saw the cure spell Seifer was about to cast and interrupted him by pushing him back.

"What the fuck--?!" he cursed at her. "Unless you want the snow lions to track the both of us, I suggest you let me close the wounds."

Quistis's determination returned. "No."

Seifer raised an eyebrow. Even if she was weak, she was definitely a paradox. He looked puzzled for a moment and then realized her intentions. He sneered at her, "You aren't going to die on me yet. I still need your information." He pushed her back against the tree and managed to cast a cure spell, closing her wounds. "You're no use to me dead, even if I'd prefer you that way."

Quistis crossed her arms, but held her tongue. She knew that now wasn't the time to argue, especially with the threat of other animals.

"Move," Seifer commanded and pushed her ahead of him.

Quistis stumbled and fell to the ground, for what seem like the usual routine from the night. She had lost a lot of her blood and was weak. She wouldn't be able to walk the distance Seifer needed.

He merely stared at her and sighed, annoyed that he'd have to carry her. He leaned down and hoisted her over his shoulder. In his other hand he wielded his gunblade.

Seifer carried her through the night over his shoulder, never pausing to rest. He needed to prepare for the coming battle with Lionhart, and being caught off guard would not help Seifer. He was preparing to win.