Chapter Five: Friend or Foe

To leave home behind was one of the hardest things Zerith had done. Never once had she looked back from atop Applegrabber, but her heart ached with homesickness already. Just think of how I will be in a few weeks when I am much farther away! She had finally been able to let go and forget her sadness once she crossed the Last Bridge onto the East road, where her heart beat quickly at the sight of Weathertop, a haunting beacon of glowing fog beneath the moon in the black night. These hills that surrounded her were too open, and the canter of her horse made her nervous at the sound of his hooves breaking the silence. Being alone was not comforting in the slightest, though the warmth of her loyal steed consoled her in her darkest hours. In all the months she had wasted in a state of indecisiveness about making her first large journey alone, she had not seen Gandalf nor received anything related to him. While she knew he was not dead, it had pained her to think that he had simply vanished without a word to her after their ordeal together. The witch Uirien was the thing of the past, and so was Gandalf, for the time being. From this moment on, you will go alone, she told herself, keeping an ever vigilant eye on the road. So far she had managed to remain unseen by man or beast, and she prayed the shot to Bree would remain that way.

Zerith could make out the South Downs, and she painted a picture of the time of her dream-sleep. That was truly the day her life had made a complete flip; from girl to woman she transitioned, never being able to grasp the other's hand for a moment of recollection. She imagined the snow as a thin blanket upon sparse grass that had sprouted from the ashes of just months ago. Death was replaced by life was replaced by grim expectation of the cold hold of snow. It was surely a sudden thing for a wintertime to come in a place that did not see too much of it. The woman would not complain, as the cold never bothered her anyway.

The hair on the back of her neck rose and chills ran down her spine as Zerith had an odd feeling of being watched. She slowed Applegrabber to a halt to survey the area, taking in her surroundings with sharp eyes. She would soon reach Weathertop, and though the place gave her the creeps as equally as everywhere around her did right at the moment, she decided it might be best to rest there and go to Bree in the morning. Something did not seem right. It was surely a foolish move to rest at Weathertop, but she always regarded herself as such. Turning her course to the hill, she kept a stealthy pace as she approached.

-o-

Crackling of a small fire brought the color back to Zerith's cheeks as she sat among the old ruins nibbling on bread and fish jerky. Nothing could be heard save for the fire and the soft movements of Applegrabber's hooves as he feasted on hay. In a moment of quiet contemplation, Zerith went over the path she had chosen to take to travel east. The Old Forest Road is too dangerous and uncertain. I should not pass by Dol Guldur, and I cannot take the Forest River. That would lead me too far into the King of Mirkwood's lands. Valar, I wish Gandalf were here. Such a wise wizard. He has travelled all over Middle Earth, so he would surely know the easiest way. He could get me into Rivendell, but without an elf-friend, I cannot pass through there. Zerith gazed up at where the new moon was supposed to be, watching the glimmering of the stars pass through black, wispy clouds. Standing to stretch, she climbed an old yet sturdy pillar of stone to watch the road she had just travelled on. The wind made her pull her fur cloak tighter to keep the warmth in. There was another traveler on the road by horseback, for a furious gallop cut through the night. She observed the stranger and her heart leapt a beat when he stopped, got off of his mount, and examined the tracks of Applegrabber when they had turned to stay at Weathertop. Before the stranger could look up, she quickly leapt off the pillar, grabbing her bow and quiver that lay with the rest of her gear. Zerith made sure her sword and dagger were within reach, and she returned to her lookout on the pillartop to hide within its shadow, observing the person that stood close to their horse. Who is this, a friend or foe? After what seemed like forever, they mounted and turned to the hills. The woman felt as though they had seen her, but she let out a breath of relief she did not know she was holding once she lost sight of them. Though she was safe, it was time to go. She turned tail and packed what little she had taken out of her bags and the saddlebags. Applegrabber raised his head curiously, flicking his ears at her scuffling. After she put out her small fire and gave the ruins a once-over, she prepared her horse for the short journey to Bree. He huffed with a warm sigh upon her neck, and she smiled sadly at his displeasure.

"You will be able to have a good rest soon, and then, a long journey! Do not worry, my friend." She patted his side and he whinnied in response.

As Zerith and her companion made their journey down Amun Sul, she did not take notice of a silhouette approaching the South Downs.

-o-

The long journey ahead of Zerith started out to be an interesting once. After getting into Bree with some hassle from the gatekeeper about 'the darned time of night to be making a ruckus' she laid her eyes on the Prancing Pony. She would have argued that the sun was coming up, but he hurried her and her horse in before she could reply. She was not surprised to see few people up in the early morn but cared little save for the stables and the Prancing Pony. Making sure to keep her hood up at all times, she approached the stables slowly, barely noticing a small figure approaching her quickly.

"Ah," The little one started in a high, happy voice, "A fine horse you have there, ma'am! If you plan to stay at the inn, I will take your horse. The name's Bob."

Upon first glance, Zerith was surprised to hear such a mature voice for a child. However, she flushed in silent embarrassment as she realized he was a hobbit. She had never actually seen one in real life, so it gave her pause. Quickly recovering her senses, she smiled down upon him.

"That would be great, master hobbit." She passed the reins to him, and even Applegrabber was confused at the little man. He flared his nostrils and shuffled his hooves, never lifting his gaze from Bob. "Shall I pay the innkeeper for both your services and his?"

He nodded, scratching the back of his neck. His curly ginger hair glinted in the early morning light, and his hairy feet were caked in dirt and mud of Bree. "Yep. Barliman Butterbur will help you out. Be careful, though, as he has a terrible memory." With that, he turned away to the stables with Applegrabber trailing behind, hesitant to leave his master. Zerith's lips turned upwards slightly in a grin as she noted her horse hover over the hobbit's hair to nibble on it. The loud closing of a door from across the road brought her out of her trance, and she quickly darted to the inn's door, not wanting to make her presence known to many. She had gotten enough strange looks already for one lifetime.

-o-

Warm air rushed to her face immediately, a strong contrast to the cold air of dawn lingering outside. Zerith took in her surroundings; the square-shaped bar where the innkeeper Barliman feverishly tended to men who guzzled down mead a-plenty. She stood before the bar, keeping her face concealed under the shadow of her hood and her black hair. After a while, the hubbub slowed its pace, and she gave Butterbur a loud whistle. Shifting her weight, she watched him scuttle over with a twitch of his mustache. He inhaled deeply, as though he was preparing for a long speech.

"Ah! Hello lass. Welcome to the Prancing Pony. You will find no finer rooms, warmer fire, or stronger drink! I have never seen you before here, girl, but I am always glad to see new customers coming through! In fact, I have not seen a new face since…" She tuned his prattle out for a while, letting him go on and encouraging him with distracted nods. This man is chatting my ear off. While pretending to pay attention, she examined the other patrons on the other side of the bar. Most were men, though she saw hobbits scurrying about. Luckily the atmosphere was too warm and boisterous for anyone to notice her presence, save for one. As she scanned the crowd, she locked gazes with one man for a split second and chills ran down her spine, though she could not understand why. Something was definitely not right with him, and she would make sure to keep a watchful eye. He sat in the shadows where the lanterns' light did not reach so she could barely make out his features and could not bear to look at him for long, but what she saw was sharp and menacing, unfamiliar even. Her focus was diverted when Barliman finally ended. "Now, what can I do for you?"

Shaking off the startle in her voice, she smiled softly to seem friendly. "While your beds and nourishment sounds wonderful and I would much like to partake in them, I must first ask a question. Do you know of a grey wizard named Gandalf?"

The innkeeper stared blankly in thought at her. "Gandalf….Gandalf. I have not seen him in years, if my memory serves me right."

Zerith's disappointment was evident on her face, and her smile faded a bit. She would have pursued the information further had the gaze of the man she did not like pierced her. With a stutter, she made to hurry the innkeeper up. "Ah, that is all right. Thank you. I would like a room for the night and food and drink. I will also gladly pay you since one of your workers, Bob, stabled my horse."

After counting her coins with zeal, Butterbur went into another long ramble, showing her to her room and then seating her at one of the empty tables in the great room. She noticed it was the only one not occupied, and as she was presented a gracious meal of fruit and bread with a large pitcher of water, she felt eyes on her, everywhere. She must have looked a bit strange since she had not yet changed out of her armor and weapons, cloak still concealing her from most unfriendly eyes, but a woman travelling was not so suspicious was it? She could be waved off as a Ranger, and many people around her were too drunk to care. That did not stop some from gaping at her body for longer than she felt comfortable. Already, she felt uneasy on her journey. First it was the road, the mysterious stranger at Weathertop, and now the inn, and that scary-looking man. She wished Gandalf were here, and wiped at the soft moisture that gathered in her eyes. Zerith scolded herself internally for being so weak as to build up tears. She was a woman now, not a girl, and she was on her own.

Gulping down her water gratefully, she listened to the general conversation of the inn. Some chatter amused her because of the drunken slur, and others intrigued her coming from others more sober. Despite the warmth of comforting food and drink, Zerith was still uneasy at the man's intense stare. He ate and drank nothing, only crossed his arms and watched her. Boldly, she held his glare for half a minute before he was the one to become uncomfortable. He looked away, turning to a man next to him and whispering something. Finally, after being relieved of the chills down her spine, Zerith made for her room. It was a decent size, with a fluffy single bed in the corner, a writing desk and a wardrobe, and a bathtub in an alcove. She ran her hands over the smooth wooden walls and eyed the beautiful tapestries. Out of exhaustion, she collapsed onto the bed on her back, staring up at the ceiling before relinquishing her weapons, bags, armor, and cloak. She had not even noticed that someone drew her a bath, and her muscles relaxed as soon as she plunged into its clear depths. There was something always refreshing about scrubbing the dirt, grime, and blood of the road off of you after a long travel. Zerith lingered long in the waters until it became too cold, and then she dressed in a dress, leggings, and her leather boots, strapping her leather harness for her shortsword and dagger to her back, and tying her fur cloak tightly. She ran her fingers through waist-length wet hair and weaved it into a complex braid that would stay for a while. Making sure her room was secure and safe, she passed quietly out the door to the market for some fresh air.

-o-

The afternoon was clear and cool as men and hobbits alike sloshed through the mud of the streets. Some hauled wheelbarrows behind them, and others just seemed like they wandered to wander. Zerith learned that many a kind of folk dwelled here. It was a place of usual acceptance and she liked the town. She passed for a woman of the land with her dress and it was easier to not feel so suspicious and cautious without her armor. Her weapons were odd to everyone who laid their eyes on them, but she went wordlessly by. Of the market, she only browsed some of the more interesting items. Of the one she lingered on most was a silver scaled cuff inlaid with beryl. She did not consider buying it as she had no time for such luxuries as jewelry, but she enjoyed examining the fine works of the market nevertheless. She returned to her room in the inn before the sun set, and was assured her luck had turned for the better when she saw that the man she had exchanged glances with was not at the spot he had been. Good riddance. The woman was greeted with a view of her room, but she found that she could not close the door. Someone was holding it open. It closed shut silently as she allowed whoever was behind her more room to enter, and she immediately unsheathed her sword and dagger, whipping around to face the assailant. And to think, she had just mused about having a good day…

"Ah, so the man who will not stop ogling me finally decides to say hello." Zerith teased, staring into warm brown eyes.

"I was not 'ogling' you as you say. A woman so armed and armored raises any eye, except those too lazy out of drunkenness." She snorted at his words, noticing his careful speech. The common tongue was not his native language, and he did not look like a man from Rohan or Gondor.

"What do you want, then?" Zerith snapped, pointing her sword at the man's throat, who only clasped his hands behind his back and smiled at her reaction.

"Just to know your business." The man nodded slightly, as though to assure her he would be no threat.

"It is my own, and my own alone. You think you could ask anyone here in the inn or even in Bree about their agendas? There are shady people who would soon harm you."

"And you?" His voice was rich and low.

"I do not harm innocents, but should you prove a threat, I will not hesitate. I am a shadow of my own making." Zerith calmed her voice, watching the man stiffen and become familiar of that which had sent her deadly glares.

"Good. I only wish to speak, and offer a proposition." He moved away from her to sit on her bed, and Zerith lowered her weapons but did not sheathe them. She relaxed enough to take the man's appearance in. He wore a simple tunic, but his boots were well-worn. He had deep brown shoulder-length hair, and light brown skin. His cheekbones were high, and features sharp. "My name, first. Call me Hassun."

"Zerith." She replied before returning to a somewhat-hostile tone. "What kind of proposition?"

"An adventure for an adventurer. You are the most intriguing person I have seen all day, so I come to you to offer a journey, and payment, of course. As you might have guessed, I am no common man of Gondor or Rohan. My people are a long-lost tribe that has moved south from Ered Mithram. We are looking for an outsider to journey to our main camp and speak with our leader, as she requires a task to be performed before we may return to our homeland."

"Why would she need an outsider? It seems like your own people would be more qualified to do her bidding." Her rapt attention was caused by the mention of the Grey Mountains. The Tarakona, of course! Unless there is another tribe, it must be them! He is my way to meet them! Her excitement built up into an overwhelming knot.

"Her interests are not known or explained to us. She is a wise-woman and we follow her guidance. She is troubled by the coming of something great, though we know not what. It is our hope that she might find outside information from a stranger. Perhaps you might suit the task. I have been sent to find someone worthy enough and to travel with them back to our tribe. I assure you, you will be richly rewarded. We have fine leathers, textiles, metals, precious stones—"

"When do we leave?" She interrupted, sheathing her weapons and relaxing her stance.

"As soon as possible, or reasonably quick for you, my lady." He stared, waiting for her reply eagerly.

"Tomorrow." Zerith said quickly, knowing that the quicker she fulfilled what Gostir asked of her, the better. It could be dangerous to tell the Tarakona of who she was, and it was most likely a terrible thing to do, but they might be able to help her understand it better and build up the walls that separated herself from the dragon. He was still forever chained to Melkor, held by an unseen force, and she knew that the connection could and would corrupt her being. The part of the serpent that the First Dark Lord held onto longed for Zerith to succumb to either death or inevitable full, evil possession. There was another side of the dragon that had lived before he moved to Ered Lithui, where his spiral towards corruption took its root. Remembering everything that she had been told that made up her being made the woman very world-weary. How was she to escape someone she had to cling onto for life?

"Ah," Hassun rumbled, standing and stretching with audible cracks, "suitable for me. I will meet you by the stables at dawn tomorrow. Until then." He approached he door, but she stopped him by touching his arm lightly. She felt the slightest tense of muscles, but they quickly relaxed when she stepped back.

"I just have one more question, pardon me. What tribe are you a part of, if it is not too forward to ask?" She was shocked at how small her voice was, the quivering of it making the man turn his gaze on her immediately. Zerith waited with widened eyes.

"The Tarakona, though we will be no more soon." She winced at the hidden woe in his voice, and how he swiftly left her side and shut the door in her face. Leaning up against the wall, she could not forget the look in his eyes. How he looked so deeply, as if he saw something more in her dark gaze. She rested a hand on her heart, closing her eyes to listen to the beating for a moment. Tired from the day's worries, she hurried off to bed and fell into sleep in moments.

When she awoke, she realized how much she wished the dragon came into her dreams that night.

-o-

"Okay, okay!" Zerith giggled as Applegrabber burrowed his nose into her bag of apples. "You love the things so much, no wonder your thievery became your namesake." With a wide smile, she rested her forehead on her steed's neck, running her fingers through his dark mane and plaiting strands of it. Her horse always knew a way to dissolve her worries and instantly put her into a good mood. She had been waiting for Hassun for an hour, and grew impatient by the minute. Maybe it was all a ruse. Maybe he found someone else. Well, with or without him, I leave today. To forget about her troubles, she buried herself in the work of tending to her horse and making sure he was all ready for the world ahead. It was a dangerous place, the uncivilized lands, and she was inexperienced in fighting or travelling save for a few scuffles with wolves. Out there, there was so many more dangers. Barrow-wights, wolves, orcs, goblins, men. Not a comforting thought. She did not doubt that she had been trained to fight by one of the best, but she still felt unconfident in her skills. There was a more pressing fear rising within her heart. If worse comes to worse and I must use my fire-breath, Hassun will know what I am. Surely the Tarakona have not forgotten their old enemy, and the woman who turned their back on them to follow his teachings, only to kill him and end her life in the end. He will want my head if he knows what I am. I need to douse the embers in my throat.

"Ah, so this was the stallion I saw dumping buckets while the hobbits' backs were turned." A voice called, and she heard sloshing footsteps behind her. The owner of the voice rubbed Applegrabber's nose, earning a sneeze and a facial of horse mucus. With a grimace, Hassun wiped his face with a spare rag draped over a wooden partition. "He only seems to like you. I cannot see why." From out of the corner of her eye, she saw the man smirk.

"You are going to become a ball of sweat in all that thick fur. The snow has passed, and we will not be going by places where you need protections from a harsh frozen wasteland." She retorted, examining the fur armor he was covered from head to toe in. For weapons, she noticed he had a bow and quiver on his back and a sword at his belt. Turning to face him, she took of his fur-lined leather helmet, forcing it into his hands. "I will not here you complain if you become dehydrated and miserable, and you will not rely solely on me while we travel. Where is your horse?"

He muffled a laugh with his hand. "It ran off when it became spooked on my venture to Bree. I should have just asked to stay with you at Weathertop." She saw a snicker coming and she turned away, assembling her bags and saddling Applegrabber, not lowering herself to indulge him.

"You are a strange woman. I have seen few females so fierce, defiant and temperamental." Hassun broke the silence, leaning up against the wooden pole of the stable's structure and crossing his arms, watching her pack up.

"Can you say nothing other than insults?" Zerith grumbled, retying her cloak and leading Applegrabber from the confines of the stable. As Bob passed, she gave him a wave and smile. As soon as he passed, she shot a glare at her new male companion.

"It is not always a bad thing, you should know. You are unique. It was all I meant to say. Forgive me, I am not well at communicating with others." He mounted her horse, moving back so that she could hop up and take the reins. She did so, and resisted the urge to squirm out of his grasp when he placed his hands lightly upon her waist. Her focus was on the people who gave her sideways looks as her horse pushed forward into a trot. Soon, I will no longer feel like everyone thinks of me as though I am evil. I will find salvation in some way, and some solace because of my blessing and burden.

"Yes," She mumbled, only loud enough for him to hear, "I suppose I am. Thank you." She suddenly had an interest in Applegrabber's mane, and kept her face down, pulling her hood up as they passed the gate of Bree. Her mind wandered to the road, and she spoke up quickly. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"We should go around the Misty Mountains and head for Dale. From there, I can show the way." Hassun spoke quietly as they both trudged along the beginning of The Green Way.

"Have you travelled a lot of Middle Earth?" She inquired, urging Applegrabber into a leisurely canter.

"No. Only when I was searching for a companion for my people did I first explore the lands unknown to me previously. The way I suggest we go was the same way I travelled, though I went alone."

"Alone?" Zerith asked in awe, wondering how he managed to escape all the perils. "You must be a great warrior, or just sneaky."

He chuckled at her remark, and she listened to the deep rumbles inside his chest. "I am proficient at stealth, though I prefer a mix of combat and shadow. It gives you an edge on the enemy. Still, our minds and senses are what will aid us the most. That and your friend here." He gave Applegrabber a hearty pat on the side which made the horse rear and break into a straight, pounding gallop. Zerith burst out with laughter as Hassun was thrown back with a yell of surprise, and he held onto her for dear life as she held her hood on her head and steered Applegrabber down the old road.

-o-

The two companions started the cycle of travel and rest as they stopped between Bree and Tharbad just as the shadows faded into the night. Taking refuge close to the road under the safety of a jutting cliff upon the head and a tangled mess of trees, a flickering fire lit up their faces. Their bedrolls were safely tucked under the protection of the cliff as they sat before the flames. Hassun stared into them with an unreadable expression, but Zerith's gaze was to the treetops, where she longed to see the stars. Her comrade rummaged through one of Applegrabber's saddlebags as Zerith tied his reins to a tree trunk. He produced potatoes and carrots ripe for a stew, and a solitary hare hung from a rope upon the horse's saddle. Supper started as soon as Zerith disappeared into the concealment of the woods, foraging for herbs and other safe plants to eat. When she drew too far into the depth of the wilderness she spun on her heel to return to her companion. Her steps were quick and light and the howling of wolves spurred her towards the light of the fire. Safety closed in around her as she saw a pot hanging above flames with Hassun stirring with a hum. Dashing the food she had gathered into the stew, she allowed herself to rest, sitting and watching the man who she had been lucky to discover.

"I should thank you for accepting my proposal," Hassun spoke softly as they ate. "I was beginning to doubt I would find someone so capable of making the trip."

"What made you think I am capable? We are only on a first-name basis." Zerith responded, taking a long drink of water as he thought about his next words.

"I rely on my instincts. They are vital to being a hunter and tracker." He replied deeply, watching her closely.

"You must be skilled, then."

"I am the lead hunter of my tribe, grandson of the shaman. I train the others and oversee them. I must be on my toes, and not even my bloodline would assure me such a tough and esteemed position within my people." His voice was guarded and his throat was tense. She did not expect him to be so on edge when he spoke about his own flesh and blood.

"It does seem like there is a lot of pressure on you. Are you the only one who leads the hunters?" She asked, crawling over to her bedroll and unsheathing her sword and dagger, placing them close to her so she could utilize them if needed. She left her armor on, for it brought her great comfort with its weight upon her body. Letting her hair free of its many braids, she combed it with her fingers, burrowing into her bedroll and propping herself up on her elbows.

"Yes." Hassun sighed, rubbing his temples. "Those who are older than the rest do try to guide and mentor them, though. It is a mixed blessing. I may not worry about them as much, but the tactics for hunting differ, and it confuses things." Zerith laid her head down, listening to the timbre of his voice and his movements as he stood and paced the camp.

"You should not concern yourself too much. It is bad for the heart and soul." Yawning, she closed her eyes, resting her forearm over her eyes. Within a few minutes, she heard him come close to her, preparing for sleep.

"A good leader always cares for his people, even if it is to his detriment." His voice had finality to it, and she soon drifted off to sleep, the lull of the woods and fire becoming a lullaby.

-o-

Darkness consumed her vision, and like glass the haze of unconsciousness shattered before her. She stood in a familiar place, with dark rock beneath her feet and an endless shadowy void as the sky. Her heart filled with an emptiness and her gut constricted into a knot. She was alone here, when she knew she should not be. She needed him! How she lamented for the absence of the bringer of solace and guidance. So afraid, so afraid. He must have had the binds to darkness pulling him into the abyss of evil. That was what he said, that he would allow her to speak to him when he was not under the influence of corruption. She could not guess how long he would be gone from her land of dreams and nightmares, but there were so many unanswered questions, and the weight of an unknown burden increased as though she were being drawn to a magnetic force.

"Gostir?" She whispered, fear muffling her voice until it was a mouse's. She could not comprehend the empty numbness inside her heart. There was no response, and she stood as the dream-world faded from view.

-o-

In the sluggish moments of awakening, Zerith felt arms roughly shake her, and a voice calling out to her. Wincing as she opened her eyes, she was met with familiar ones.

"You have got to wake up. This is no time to throw your life away for sleep." With those words, her weapons were thrust into her hands and she was pulled up from the comfort of her bedroll. Warmth suddenly left her, and she noticed that the fire had gone out and Hassun was in a fighting stance, gripping a broadsword. In the darkness of the early morning, she heard the frantic and excited barks of wolves. They were cackling like madmen hunting their prey. Zerith realized quickly that they were the targets.

Leaping out from the nook of the hill, she took in the scene. Applegrabber was safe but spooked, beginning to pull away from the tree he was tied to. Hassun had her back, listening to the call of the dastardly hounds. All that could be seen were the trees, and the glowing fog hovering above the grass.

"What is the situation?" She inquired swiftly, as she and her companion circled, keeping their backs pressed against each other.

"You heard the howling last night. I tossed and turned because of it until I saw one, then two, then three creep close to the camp. The fourth one was the last straw." Hassun responded angrily.

"Do you know how many there are?" She asked, feeling the oncoming death hang heavily in the air.

"Besides the one I saw, I do not know, but the howls are constant, loud, and ominous. I do not know if the two of us can handle this." The strength in his voice waned.

"Have some hope, friend." She tried to make light of the situation, receiving only a frustrated huff in return. Just as Hassun inhaled to scold her, a beast jumped from foliage into the clearing. It was a mottled brown canine with savage fangs and putrid yellow eyes. Snarling, the hair that rose on its neck made it seem much larger than it already was. It prowled low to the ground, sizing up the larger of the two humans. Foolishly it lunged towards Hassun as his stroke fell upon its neck, and its blood painted the ground sanguine. Only a pawn to a larger pack. As soon as it perished, two others replaced it, both frothing at the mouth with bloodlust in their eyes. Breaking out of a daze, Zerith whistled at a white wolf close to her, who had turned its back to target Hassun. When it turned, she kicked it hard in the snout and brought her dagger down upon its spine and shortsword in its belly. It let out an ear-piercing cry, and she drove her weapons further to quickly end its life. Her heart was beating furiously as she stared down at the lifeless, bloody body.

"Your horse!" Hassun yelled, bringing two wolves down and wincing as he glanced back at Zerith, who was already running to save her friend. Another one of the wretched beasts was nipping at its heels, but Applegrabber was not letting it gain any ground, furiously bucking and stomping. As Zerith drew closer, a massive force sent her sprawling on the ground, weapons flying behind her. A stink of death and muck filled her nose with the world blurring before her eyes. A furry, twisted face brushed her own, digging its claws into her shoulders to pin her down. She let out a cry and punched the wolf as hard as she could as it grazed its teeth by her jaw, trying to get to her lifeline. With one arm fighting as best she could, the other searched behind her for her sword, dagger, anything to do more damage than her measly punches could against solid muscle. Her name was being called but it was lost to her in her fight for life. A sharp pain passed her jaw and it spurred her on, kicking and combating. She was tiring, and using the remaining adrenaline she grabbed the scruff of the wolf's neck and shoved it away with a boot to the abdomen, rolling to one side to escape and flipping up onto her hands and feet, running to her weapons before her enemy could recover. It lunged, but she would not let it have her again. At the last second she raised her blades, and shuddered at a sickening gurgle that marked the hound's demise. Looking up and wiping the blood from her neck with her elbow, Zerith wiped her blades off and went to the rescue of her horse, slashing at the wolf who had begun to rip into Applegrabber's rump with both her blades. She had killed three, but Hassun had killed more as he was the prime target. After the fifth body at her feet, Zerith had all but gone solo to fight the plagues on her night. Being caught up in the heat of battle had given her tunnel vision. When she glanced back at him finally, her heart leapt.

She called his name as he called hers out of alarm. Six drove him into a corner, back into a wide-trunked tree. His eyes shone with no fear, only anger, but it would not help him for long. He did not look up to her face as he was about to meet his maker, nor did he listen to her calls as she ran to him. The only thing he noticed was the warmth and heat of flame arousing a burning smell of fur in his face.

There was no other way to go about things. In her mind, Zerith accepted everything that would come to her because of who she was. It was simply a matter of resigned hardening of her heart.

AN:

I'm back with another entry! Yup, Zerith isn't alone this time, or is she? Her mysterious new companion isn't all that he seems. I would really appreciate it if just one person would take the time to review this and put in their two cents. I'm not asking for much. See you next time!

Pronounciation of Hassun : hAH-sOOn