Amaranthine, countryside

Delia slipped out early one morning a few days later and saddled a horse. She rode out to Ser Timothy's estate, hiding her horse in a thick stand of trees. She hid herself in the tall grasses beside the road leading to the his house. She armed herself with the darkspawn short bow and a quiver of darkspawn arrows. It wasn't long before she heard a horse cantering down the road. She carefully peeked up from the grasses. It was him. Wolf had been accurate about his morning ride. Hopefully he was also accurate about his involvement with the conspiracy.

She waited until he had just passed her location then she quietly stood and drew. She released the string and the arrow hummed, slicing the air like a falcon diving on it's prey. The arrow hit him squarely in the middle of his back. The horse, feeling something amiss, reared up and Ser Timothy tumbled to the ground. She drew a dagger and went to check that he was truly dead. She knelt over him and felt for a pulse. There was none.

"Bravo," a deep voice said from behind her. "I was having my doubts about you, but perhaps you do still have it."

"Wolf!" she growled, turning slowly toward him. Her fingers itched on the dagger. "Are you spying on me now?" She strode purposefully toward her horse.

"Accidentally actually. I was in the area and saw you ride by, so I followed you. I wanted to make sure my partner wasn't getting in over her head. You never even noticed you were being followed?" He followed behind her closely.

Again with the critique! she thought. She shot him a glare but didn't answer.

"Your carelessness is going to cost you someday, my dear," he said.

"And your tongue is going to cost you, today!" she hissed.

She stopped suddenly and spun, launching herself into a flying kick to his chest. It was worth it to see his eyes open wide and hear his breath being expelled forcefully. He fell backwards, flat on his back. Neria leapt on him, straddling his chest, her daggers drawn.

"It would seem you're still the alpha wolf," he said.

"Or just one dangerous bitch," she said. She put her daggers back in their sheaths. One half of her mouth twisted up in a sly smile, and she bent to close the distance to his face. She pressed her lips against his. "I didn't hurt you did I?" she asked, mumbling against his lips.

"I'm recovering already," his hand snaked around the back of her head and he twined his fingers into hair, tugging at her scalp. He opened his lips under hers and his tongue gently stroked her bottom lip. He sucked on her bottom lip and bit it gently.

Delia shivered as a bolt of pleasure lanced through her middle. It has been so long! she thought. Perhaps my maidenhead grew back. She put her hands behind Wolf's head, as if to press his head against her harder. But her fingers found the knot of the black kerchief he used to hide the top part of his head. She gently began to coax the knot loose.

"Oh no," he said grabbing her hands with his own. "None of that, now."

Her eyebrows crashed again with irritation. "I want to see you," she said.

"I think that wouldn't be wise. You are, after all, the law in these parts. What's to prevent you from hanging me?" he asked.

She snickered. "Oh I don't know. Maybe the fact you know rather a lot about me and my colorful past. Enough to have me hanged in Denerim. And you did just witness me murdering a minor noble."

"Nobody would believe me if I told them the Hero of Ferelden was a thief and assassin."

"I suppose you have a point there," she sighed. She got up and dusted off her pants. "There is a dead man in the middle of the road and his horse has probably returned to the stable. We might want to leave the area."

Wolf got up. "Right." He paused a moment, looking at her. "I'll have another name for you soon."

She walked to her horse and mounted, taking one more glance at him, she rode off.

"Eat something," he called after her.

She turned in her saddle and made an obscene gesture at him.