Rain poured down in torrents, rendering the ground below a mucky cocktail of dust and clay. Mortis, perched among the branches of a tall, leafy tree, had little concern for this. The grumbles of the thieves hiding around him, however, could be heard quite clearly.

The caravan was late. The afternoon raid had now become a night one, and although this would make the thieving easier, it meant the party had been out in the storm for more hours then they cared for. Mortis sat on his branch, eyes fixed keenly on the path through the mountains. The trees were quite thick here, making visibility even worse through the rain. A thief yawning behind his bush below made the demon glance down.

"Bloooddyy hell," the disgruntled man drawled. He was wearing a wide brimmed hat that had collected a miniature bird bath's worth of water. Large droplets splashed out every time he moved his head. Mortis continued to watch as the thief pulled a small knife from his pocket and began to clean his fingernails casually. Then he let off a fart then could have killed a quill rat.

"I'm still up here, you know, Teddery," Mortis snorted. The man started, almost jabbing the knife through his finger, and looked up fast. A large portion of the bird-bath water sloshed from his hat and succeeded in completely drenching his back.

"Dammit, I did f'get," Teddery grinned, squinting up in the darkness at the winged form above him. "Nearly shat meself."

Mortis grinned.

"From me startling you or from that gas explosion you just unleashed upon this world?"

Teddery grinned back.

"I'll go with both."

They chuckled quietly for a bit, and then Mortis allowed his gaze to wander to his surroundings. Two more thieves lurked in a ditch closer to the road. They had a makeshift tent made of animal skin, which allowed them better cover. Wouldn't be long before the ditch would start to fill though, he knew.

Across the road; three thieves hid somewhere beyond Mortis's vision. One was the young man that had invited him. Another was Dreg, the thief who'd given Zac the 'friendly' pat on the back. And finally, there was Jake. Despite being strung upside down last night for his comment about 'juicy daughters' – which led Zac on his usual "Rules of Thievery" lecture – the guild had allowed Jake to take part in the raid anyway.

Mortis's mouth drew into a thin line when he finally spotted the bulging stomach of the loud mouthed man extending from behind a tree. Of all the thieves, Jake was the one he felt least comfortable with. The man wasn't right. Not truly evil; Mortis could sense that like a dead mouse in a bread bin. It was something else, something… subtle.

He shifted his eyes back to the road. Lightning flashed fiercely, illuminating the whole pass for a fraction of a second, and then left the members of the thieves' guild staring blankly into darkness with white spots dancing under their eye lids. Mortis sighed and shifted his sitting position. He wished he had room to straighten his back and wings, but the tree was to thickly foliaged for either motions.

A distant sound, carried by the wind, suddenly made Mortis sit upright. Horses hooves? Perhaps the cracking of fallen twigs under the wheels of a coach? Teddery, below, sensed the demon's shift in attention, and stood up himself.

"Ay? Ya spotted somethin', Mort?" He was alert and staring down the road intensely. Mortis merely nodded, an action the thief could barely pick up in the gloom.

Teddery put his fingers to his mouth and made a series of small, hoot like noises. Though Mortis had only been with the guild for a total of one day, he knew the call would have been different if it was still afternoon. After all, it'd be strange to hear a day-bird calling at night, and an owl calling visa versa.

The thieves responded accordingly. Mortis saw every face appear to stare at the source of the hoots, and just as quickly disappear again. The ambush was on now; operation "Steal from the Rich to Satisfy Our Own Lust for Challenges" was in full swing.

He could definitely hear hoof falls now. They had been dulled by the mud and water, but every now and then they'd find a rocky part of the road and the steps would come loud and clear. Mortis crouched, every muscle tense, the anticipation he had grown to love when out hunting alone, building in his mind. Below, Teddery could see golden eyes, glowing brightly in the dark.

"Ya know yer game," the man whispered upwards. "Jump when yar think the time's right, and we'll jus' follow procedure from there."

Mortis didn't respond, completely focused on the task at hand. Much like a hawk develops tunnel vision when it spots a prey, so was the demon beginning to zone out all other elements. Rain? A reason to briefly blink your eyes. Wind? A screen to interfere with the senses, but like any screen, one that can be seen through if you concentrate hard enough. And darkness… well, no one could relate to the phrase "darkness be my friend" more then a demon from Hell. He was aware of nothing but the rickety silhouette now lumbering its way up the path below him.

His part in the plan was simple. Jump in front of the carriage, disturb the horses, and block them from bolting past him. He crept out as far as he thought the branch would allow, and poised, ready.

The carriage came into view, now no more then sixty feet away. Though it belonged to a rich family, it was easy to see their journey had been rough. One wheel wobbled awkwardly on its axle, and the fine paint had been stripped by winds relentless flurry. The horses snorted misty breaths and kept their faces sorrowfully bent towards the path. It would be an easy raid.

As the two horses drew underneath him, Mortis spread his great wings and leapt from the branch. He landed with a squelching thud on the road, sending mud spraying all directions. The horses smelled him before they saw his form through their matted fringes, and immediately whinnied with fear. One tried to back away, and reared when the carriage wheel caught a rock and refused to move.

Mortis moved in quick, grabbing the reins and holding them firmly. The horses stared wide eyed with their nostrils flaring, all the time champing desperately at their bits.

"Move in, boys!" a gruff voice yelled, and within seconds the rest of the thieves had jumped clear of their hiding places and were running to the carriage. Teddery joined Mortis, holding the other horse. The two ditch-hiders jumped up onto the right side of the carriage, effectively blocking escape from that side. Dreg circled around the back to start dealing with the boxes tied firmly there, which left only Jake and the young thief.

Mortis watched the fat man stride slowly up to the door of the carriage, a wide grin on his weather worn face. The young thief followed a few steps behind, a small knife flicking from hand to hand. It seemed the entire guild came equipped with these trusty pocket tools.

"Well, well," Jake said loudly over the sound of the rain, "What do we got here? Pretty coaches like this should know better'n to come through a mountain pass unescorted."

The storm continued to howl its opinion, but no answer came from within the carriage. The curtains in the windows remained drawn. Jake frowned, his brow furrowing disapprovingly.

"Oi!" he bellowed. "You in there. Come out and bring us your shiny trinkets. We won't hurt ya."

Though this is what Mortis expected when it came to the actual robbing, something in Jake's voice sounded far from sincere. Regardless, the curtain was finally drawn back slightly, and a pale face peeked nervously out.

("D-don't hurt us,") the man spoke, muffled from within the carriage. ("Please!")

"We won't hafta if you bring us yer treasures willingly," came the reply.

The face disappeared for a second, then returned.

("We… we don't have anything. We're just passing through, I swear.")

Mortis heard the young thief snicker softly. Jake was still frowning, but now it looked as if he was almost pleased about the way events were going. There was an odd twinkle in his eye.

"Last chance," he yelled.

No reply came from within. After a full minute had passed, Jake's frown broke into a smirk, and he turned to face the young thief.

"Lemi… get the door," he said calmly. The young thief seemed all too happy to oblige. Leaping past the bigger man, he grabbed a hold of the handle and swung it open fiercely. A shocked gasp came from within, followed by what sounded like a child crying 'dad!'

Lemi didn't enter, however, but seemed content to just hold the door as Jake turned around again, heaved himself up the carriages step and went through the opening. The young thief quickly swung the door closed and leaned against it firmly.

("Right,") Jakes voice, now muffled, came from inside. ("Where's ya goods then?")

There was the sound of something smashing and movement, then the voice of the face in the window spoke up.

("Stop it! Get out! Leave them alone.")

("Oh ho! What have we here?)

More tussling from within, and suddenly Jake gave an almighty yell. The nobleman's voice rang out again.

("Get away from her, you bastard!)

("Oh you be bloody payin' for that!")

This time there was no wrestling, just one short, sharp scream from the nobleman and then Lemi was smoothly opening the door. Two seconds later, a body came flying out of the carriage and landed with a squelch in the mud. Mortis stared at the pale face of the man at the window, lying with his eyes open and mouth agape. The trademark small thief's blade had been lodged firmly in his neck, effectively cutting through the wind pipe and the spine on the other side.

Lemi closed the door again and continued to lean against it. He too was looking at the body, but the look on his face was smug, almost as if it had all been planned. The heavy pounding of someone hitting the door with the palm of their hand made his eyes widen in surprise.

("Open up, we got another.")

Lemi did so, and a small boy came hurtling out. He landed on his rear on the road next to his father, blinking as the wind assaulted his eyes. He was staring at the body with a mixture of disbelief and plain shock.

Jake's ugly face leaned out of the doorway, a sneer on his lips. There was a long slash down his left check where the nobleman had attacked him, and the smeared blood was beginning to flow again in the rain.

"Better start runnin', boy. Else ya end up like daddy there."

The child looked from his father to his assailant, the tears streaming down his face lost among those of the storm. He started to crawl backwards, before getting to his feet and half running, half slipping his way into the woods around.

Lemi and the other thieves on the carriage chuckled with laughter, and then Jake disappeared back inside. Once more the young thief closed the door and stood smugly on guard.

("Right then girlie, where was we?")

Mortis was gripping the reins tightly, still staring at the body on the road. This wasn't in the raid outline Teddery had told him while they sat and waited for the carriage earlier that afternoon. No one was supposed to get hurt. And hadn't Zac stressed that very thoroughly? Something was amiss.

The dead man's eyes stared blankly into the darkness. It was the first time Mortis he'd seen a man kill his fellow man, and at this point in time, he had no idea how to feel about it.

A strong arm gripped his shoulder.

"Sh!t" Teddery said in a hoarse whisper, "What the hell is going on 'ere? Jake's gone rogue?"

Mortis glanced at him and saw the thief looked both angry and frightened at the same time. He'd lost his hat at some point, and he looked a lot older then he had a few minutes ago.

"Yes… but the man attacked him," Mortis said slowly. "Jake was… right? To fight back?"

Teddery shook his head and looked ready to belt him. Beat that confused look right off the demon's face.

"C'mon you saw that slash on 'is cheek. Barely flesh deep! Jake wanted to kill 'im, he was just lookin' for an excuse."

When Mortis didn't respond, the thief took a breath and began to speak slower.

"The nobleman was defendin' his family. Ya know what that is, right? Family? No I guess not, you're from Hell. No parents there, I'm betting. What do ya just all spawn from the same pool or somethin'?"

Mortis visibly bristled, so Teddery continued.

"He was protectin' that boy we saw go a runnin', and probably that girlie girl Jakes harassin' this minute. He was the one in the right. Look, it's 'ard to explain, but there are right and wrong times for killin'. You just got to look 'ere, and you'll know."

Teddery thumped Mortis on the chest, above his breast bone. The demon looked at the fist resting over his sternum for a few seconds, then back at the face of the thief.

"In my heart?" He squinted, trying to think. "Yes, Zac has mentioned that. I don't know what I'm supposed to be feeling though…"

"If there's any good in ya – and I'm almost certain there is – ya'll understand soon enough. Now listen;"

He pulled Mortis down to his level and glanced warily around at the other thieves. The two ditch-hiders had their ears pressed firmly against the windows, grinning widely and giving each other half hearted shoves. Dreg, around the back, was out of sight. Only Lemi seemed to remember they were there, and his questioning glance towards them lasted only a few seconds before he returned to his game of "Spit on the Dead Man's Head". Teddery brought his mouth back close to the demon's ear.

"Listen, I'm gonna go find the boy. There're all manner of beasties in these woods, and the lad won't last the night. When I come back…" he paused, considering what he was about to say. "When I come back… have the carriage ready to travel."

That was all he said. He gave Mortis a slap on the shoulder and hurried off into the storm, following the path of the young boy. Lemi watched him go and called out.

"Oi, Teddery. Where you going? Gone to have a bit of fun with the boy yourself, ay? Always knew you were like that, you dirty old man." He hawked a deep loogie and shot it successfully into the nobleman's hair. "Score!" he cried cheerfully.

Mortis held the reins of the horses for what felt like a long time, running through all the things in his mind. As a demon in a strange world, he never was much of a fast thinker. He wondered if it would get any better in the future. For the moment, however, he could here muffled shouts from within the carriage, and the reek of evil doing was foul in the air.

Catching each horse's eye in a steely glance, he gripped their muzzles and spoke two words in a special way Zac had taught him.

"Don't. Move."

The horse's eyes followed him, but they sensed the tone and power in his voice and remained steady on their feet. Satisfied, Mortis dropped the reins and headed towards the carriage door.

Lemi was playing some sort of trick with his knife now, twirling the hilt of it expertly on one finger, then leap frogging it to another. He almost flinched when he saw Mortis before him, but not quite.

"Ay? What are you doing around here? Who's holding the –"

"Get out of the way," Mortis interrupted. Lemi paused with his mouth open, mid sentence, then closed it, his eyes squinted suspiciously.

"What?"

"Get away from the door, or I'll force you too."

Lemi saw the demon was serious, and snatched the twirling knife from his finger. He seemed somewhere between putting the blade back in his pocket and thrusting it in Mortis's face. Mortis could see him weighing up his options.

On the other side of the carriage, the two ditch-hiders chuckled with laughter.

"Ha, you go, Jake!" one shouted, "Give it too her good!"

Lemi, reminded suddenly that there were four of him and only one of Mortis, returned to the same smug smile as he'd had the past few minutes while spitting on the dead man from afar.

"Not likely, Hell boy," he smirked, "Just let Jake have his way, and we can all go on living happily ever-"

The palm of Mortis's hand fit quite well around the side of the young thief's head, and neither Dreg, Jake nor the ditch-hiders heard the single choked cry as the big demon picked Lemi up and deftly tossed him away from the door.

Lemi flew high and landed close by the nobleman, and Mortis heard the tell-tale 'crack' of spine as the thief hit the ground. The demon took a few steps towards him and leant down close to the fallen man's ear. Lemi's eyes were rolling wildly, hands twitching, and though he was still alive he seemed unable to move from the waist down. His ability to speak had also left him for the time being.

"Maybe tomorrow, someone will stop to help," Mortis whispered. "But if anything Zac told me is true, they'll be more apt to spit on you when they see that poor man lying beside you."

So began a habit that would make Mortis the most feared assassin in all of Sanctuary. Evil men and drunken wanderers would talk far into the night about the hired demon that could attack from above and hide seamlessly in the shadows. What truths would he whisper in your ear, as you lay dying from the claws marks on your throat? What final words would he leave rattling in your mind as he sent you off to a place he had left, not so long ago?

Lemi, the first human to fall victim to the demon's wrath, just stared wide eyed and fearful up at the winged beast above him, mouth opening and closing in a desperate effort to make words. Mortis ignored him and went back to the carriage door.

Though Jake had been in there some time, he was still far from achieving the foul act he was trying to force the girl into, and when Mortis ripped the door open, he could see she'd put up a hell of a fight. Jake's face was covered in scratches, and the knife slash on his cheek had been torn a little deeper. The girl herself had also been beaten, one eye swelling already from a heavy blow, and visible red marks circled her throat. Her dress had been hitched up to her thighs

The fat thief had her pinned to one of the two seats in the carriage, his pants around his ankles. He looked up as the door opened and squinted.

"Lemi, that you…?" He paused when he saw that the silhouette was far too big to be his door guarding comrade, and the golden eyes glowering in the dark.

"You? What're you doing in 'ere?"

"Jake, let the girl go," Mortis said in a voice so cold it could turn the rain to hail. Jake sneered in reply and grabbed a handful of the girl's breast defiantly.

"What, ya want 'er for yerself? Piss off and wait yer turn."

But Mortis's attention had left the thief now. Now he was looking at the girl. She lay under the weight of Jake's hefty gut, gasping from her battle exertions. She looked no older then seventeen.