A/N: Hey guys, this wasn't too bad of a space between updates, was it? :) Thanks and all my love to KrisEleven, without whom I would freak out at how crazy things get.

Chapter Four

A few days from the City of the Gods on the Great Road North, Willow rode through the streets of Firesway on a strong mare named Windrunner, everything she owned on her back. She had never, in all her years with the Shang, wanted to be anywhere but training in the Temple. Until now. Her old roommate had stolen mythical creature status right from under Willow's nose. Janie was a poor fighter, poor at lessons. Willow was none of those things; she was the fastest and the strongest and the best. No, Janie had cheated, that was it. All of their teachers knew that Willow was better, and Janie had still gotten mythical creature status? Willow's fists clenched on Windrunner's reins until the mare tossed her head.

It was full dark, and Willow turned Windrunner toward one of the three taverns she could see from her position on the edge of the main square. She encountered an inn first and dismounted, handing Windrunner's reins to a stablehand, instructing the young boy to have a room readied for her. She made her way through the crowd of a tavern to a corner in the back. A barmaid made her way over with a tankard of ale a while later. "C'n I get ye anythin' else?" she asked, looking disinterested.

Willow shook her head and didn't reply.

The barmaid walked off without another word, and Willow got a chance to look around the place. It was busy, and the patrons were loud and mostly drunk. None of them paid any mind to the woman in the corner, dressed in a plain tunic and breeches.

There was a group of men around a table in the opposite corner. Three of the four had women sitting on their laps. Willow kept her face impassive as she wondered why the women didn't just bring over their own chairs. She blinked when she saw one of the ladies turn to kiss the man whose lap she was sitting on, and the woman's sly smile as the man's hand disappeared under her dress. Glancing away, she realized how sheltered she and her classmates had been in the Temple.

The noise was something she was unused to; everyone's voices mixed together, making it hard to distinguish who was saying what, and the light was dim in the place, probably so that no one noticed the stains on the floors and tables. She'd felt something sticky under her boots and tried not to think about what could have caused that.

She looked over at the table full of men, and saw one dark-haired man get up with the woman who had been in his lap. He had an arm around her waist and she was whispering something in his ear that made him smile. He caught Willow staring, and one eyebrow rose as he directed a look her way that made her shudder. He disappeared through a door beside the bar with the woman in his arms.

Willow sipped her ale, cringing a little at the liquid in her tankard; in the Shang Temple, the trainees weren't allowed to drink ale. It was water or juice only, because ale was known for dulling the senses. Willow grimaced at her train of thought and then took a long gulp of her ale. In what seemed like no more than a few moments, she'd emptied the tankard, and the barmaid had brought her another. She noticed when the dark-haired man came back alone instead of with his companion. He looked over at her and winked before sitting down with his friends.

Willow was getting used to the ale now, feeling lighter than she ever had before. She kept her eyes moving, examining the patrons of the tavern. She watched a man be sick on the floor and grimaced, realizing that vomit was probably a big part of what was causing her boots to stick.

She was mildly surprised when a fight broke out feet from her table. She had yet to be outside the temple long enough to have been exposed to other types of fighting, especially not this haphazard business happening in front of her. She almost rolled her eyes. Punching like that would get them nothing but broken fingers.

One of them, a brunet who already had bruises on his face, stumbled into her table, knocking over her tankard. Willow looked up at him, her eyes narrowing a bit as she examined him.

He looked over his shoulder at her for a moment, and then turned away, barreling toward his opponent, a bigger blond. He caught the other man by surprise with a broad shoulder in his stomach. The blond lost his breath and fell to the ground, and the brunet was on top of him instantly, pummeling the blond's face and throat until someone pulled him off.

Willow watched curiously as the victor spat blood onto the floor and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. He glanced around the room, one side of his mouth curled back. When his eyes caught Willow's, he tilted his head and smirked. He spat again and, finally acknowledging the proprietor's urging, left the tavern.

As the tables were reset and the inhabitants of the tavern started to talk amongst themselves, the barmaid brought Willow another tankard of ale. "This is my last," Willow said. She put a couple of coins on the table when the barmaid told her how much the ale cost, and the barmaid swept it into a pocket and turned on her heel.

Willow drank the ale more quickly than before. By the time she'd emptied it, she felt as though the lights were brighter in the tavern than they had been, and she was mildly dizzy. She pushed the empty tankard away from herself and stood, wavering slightly before gaining her balance.

She made sure she had all of her belongings with her and stepped out into the lane, blinking at the sudden loss of light. She thought there was an inn just up ahead and started toward it. She was just at the alley between the tavern and the next building when a hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her into the shadows.

"Came to find me, did ye? Be done in a second, love." Willow recognized him as the brawler from inside. From the look of his tunic and the stench his clothes were exuding, he'd just been retching, and one meaty palm was still propping him up from the side of the building. He squinted at her in the moonlight, and then smiled a little. "I saw ye lookin' at me," he said. "Int'rest ye, do I?"

Willow wasn't quite sure of what to say, and finally settled on, "Your technique leaves much to be desired."

The hand still holding onto her gripped harder, and a breath later, Willow's back was hitting the side of the building. She lost her hold on her pack and it fell to the ground, but she didn't notice. She'd already reached up to the man's wrist and was digging her fingernails between the small bones there, to loosen his fingers.

It worked, and he let go with a growl. "Bitch," he said, and in the dim light from the moon overhead, Willow could see his hands stretching in her direction. She grabbed his wrist and spun away from the wall, forcing him in a circle until she could twist his arm behind him.

The man clearly hadn't been taught to fight, since he just roared in pain and wrenched his arm free. He took advantage of her obvious lack of balance and swung his fists wildly, landing a punch to Willow's abdomen. With a wince, she grabbed his arm and brought him over her hip. He landed in a heap on the ground, and Willow leapt onto his back, taking his head between her hands and twisting until she heard a snap.

The man stopped moving. She stood slowly and tilted her head to the side, looking down on his body, a pile of denser shadows in the dark. She blinked a few times, rubbed her stomach where he'd punched her, and examined him.

It was easier than she thought it would be, to kill him. She went around and crouched by his face, confirming that he wasn't breathing. She made a small sound in the back of her throat and stood again. She went to her pack and picked it up, swinging it over her shoulder. As she walked by his body again, she saw the glint of moonlight on something shiny in his belt. It was his belt-knife, slightly loose from its sheath.

Impulsively, Willow took the knife and cut the cord that tied the sheath to his belt. She sheathed the knife and slid it into the opening of her pack. A small smile crept over her lips as she left the alley. No one had walked by, no one had seen. No one would ever know that this was her doing. She bit her lip against the laughter that bubbled up in her throat, and shook her head.

Once on the main road, she headed toward where she thought the inn might be. It was a little ways down and slightly crowded, but she was able to pay for a room for the night. She would have to leave in the morning, go somewhere new. She would never be able to get away with more fighting in a small town like this. But where could she go? The capital, perhaps? Maybe out of Tortall altogether, but she would make her final decision in the morning.

A/N: Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this! Let me know what you think about Willow! :) Love, Sarah