The winter was harsher the following year, and Lon'qu and Ke'ri went out to Heron Hill less and less – it was simply more comfortable to stay inside, curled up together by a warm fireplace in one of Shuo'li's many libraries. Besides, there had been reports of bandits venturing further north these days, and Lon'qu didn't want to take the risk. He knew that Ke'ri was headstrong and could hold her own, but against armed bandits, the two of them did not stand a chance.

The bitter weather took its toll, and Lon'qu's mother fell ill one day. For three weeks, he stayed away from Wufen, nursing her back to health in Linan. Taifen showed a bit of empathy, and allowed Lon'qu more time away from the forge to care for his ailing mother. Though Lon'qu could not see Ke'ri, he took comfort in writing her letters, and was grateful when her replies came packaged with parcels of medicine from the finest physicians of the capitol.

But even those did not help alleviate her illness. As the days passed, her strength waned and her countenance grew paler. Lon'qu knew what was happening but refused to believe it, refused to see it. Already, the landlord's wife had begun preparing funeral arrangements and though he could acknowledge that she had the best intentions since she and his mother had been good friends, he could not help but resent her for refusing to believe that his mother's condition could improve.

In the final hours of the third week, she drew her last breath. Her pulse stilled, and her hands grew cold.

Lon'qu fled.

Before he had even realized where he was going, he found himself at Shuo'li's mansion. Ke'ri's light was still on, and he threw a pebble at it to draw her attention. In a few short moments, she was downstairs.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered furtively. Then, glancing at his expression for the first time, she shook her head. "Never mind, silly question. I'm here for you, no matter what."

"C-can we…" in his mind, his request sounds childish, immature, but he voices it regardless. "Can we get out of here? Go to Heron Hill?" Even though he had run the entire way to Shuo'li's mansion, he still wanted to flee. Deep down, he knew that running away would solve nothing, but his instincts told him that if he continued to avoid his problems, they would magically absolve themselves.

Her hand crept into his, and he marveled at how she was able to calm him down with a simple touch. "Of course," she answered with a sad smile.

They set off together, neither person speaking a word, for Lon'qu did not trust himself to speak. Ke'ri, too, felt as though there were no words in the Chon'sin language that could properly express the deep sadness that she felt on Lon'qu's behalf.

The moment they reached Heron Hill, Lon'qu knew that they were in for trouble.

The moon shone lazily, a waning half-crescent hanging low in the sky. The line of trees across the river cast eerie shadows, filling Lon'qu with a sense of dread. He turned to Ke'ri to voice his concern. "Let's get out of here. I shouldn't have brought us here. It's dangerous." Although she would never admit to being scared, he knew she was frightened – her grip on his hand had tightened, almost imperceptibly.

She nodded. But before they had even taken one step back onto the road towards safety, dark shapes burst forth from behind cover of foliage, and before they could react, Lon'qu and Ke'ri were surrounded.

"What have we here?" their leader asked superciliously. "A nobleman's daughter and a street urchin, out cavorting after dark? Don't you know that it's dangerous at this time of night?"

Lon'qu held his tongue, wary that a single wrong word could trigger an attack.

"At least, now that we, the Devil Mountain Bandits, have claimed this region as ours," the man added as an afterthought. "Anyhow, we are not interested in harming either of you. We could sell you off as a slave," he nodded at Lon'qu, "and I'm sure your father would pay a pretty penny to see you returned safely home in one piece."

"No," Ke'ri replied, her voice cold as iron. "You will ransom us together."

"I don't have to listen to what you say," the leader replied angrily. "Haven't you noticed? We're the ones who control whether you live or die. You will be ransomed, and the boy will be sold."

"Though we might want to do a few things before we ransom you," an unshaven man standing beside him added, looking her up and down appreciatively. He licked his lips unpleasantly, and Lon'qu itched to rip off the green armband that the man wore in order to strangle him with it.

"You wouldn't dare," Ke'ri replied tightly. "My father will hunt you down. The very day I return to him, he will have your heads by nightfall."

"Empty threats," the man hissed. "He is afraid of us. Why else, then, would he allow us to roam freely, taking whatever we want from whomever we want?"

"It is because he does not think that you are worth his time," Ke'ri answered. "You call yourselves the Devil Mountain Bandits, but all I see is a group of thugs playing dress-up, stealing from the elderly and weak."

The man growled angrily, and moved towards her, hand raised. "It's time somebody put you in your place," he muttered. Turning back to his leader, he asked, "Dorian, do you mind?"

"Don't hurt her too badly, Garrow," the leader warned. "I don't want to face Shuo'li's wrath."

"A little roughin' up never hurt nobody," Garrow replied, a nasty grin plastered on his face. "And I'm not afraid of Shuo'li." He was closer now, and Lon'qu knew that in a few more steps he would be within range.

However, he hesitated. Could he take them all on? Lon'qu had not honed his skills in the arena for a while, choosing instead to focus on working in the smithery. They were severely outnumbered, and he would have to simultaneously protect Ke'ri while attacking. Perhaps it would be better if he stayed his hand…

Then Garrow's fist struck Ke'ri squarely in the stomach, and as she cried out in pain, Lon'qu lost all reason. His sword leapt out of its scabbard and into his hand, almost of its own volition. Just as quickly, it flashed through the air and drew blood.

The bandit yelped, jumping backwards. His face darkened with rage as he drew his own sword.

"A thirty year old bandit and a boy who can barely lift his sword? Doesn't seem like a fair fight to me," Dorian remarked. "Garrow, be sure not to hurt the girl."

Dorian had been right – it was not a fair fight at all. Garrow was slow and clumsy, and Lon'qu's Killing Edge danced from side to side – slashes, thrusts, undercuts – and it was all he could do to try and parry. But unbeknownst to Lon'qu, Dorian crept closer from behind, ready to end the mismatched battle with a dishonorable strike to the back.

A/N: Quite the eventful chapter...