Erm. . . in answer to the questions, I update fairly regularly, as in I don't take anywhere near a month. But nowhere near two, three days either. About a week, perhaps. And huh? This isn't long? . . . Really? . . . Heh, oops. Oh and yay! (to Icekube) You're still reading! I was scared I'd have to start all over again. I'm getting a lot of complaints, aren't I?. . . but I'm sure there was animal testing, maybe not for cosmetics and all that crap, but surely where there's civilization there's the need for improving and having better goods whichever way possible.

And sorry for the elleth-ellon mix up. . . I do those a lot.

>

And so here I am, on some do-goody quest, in the middle of absolutely nowhere, and damn the sun is bright, Tera thought to herself while glaring burning holes through her horse's mane.

And yes, fine, she was whining.

And so what? It was their problem, not hers. They'd have to get used to that, too; she rather liked whining. Annoyingly, and often.

It didn't help that she was the last one ready to leave, much too early for even a thief, nor the fact that she had literally to fight to keep her horse, instead of the too-pure gray mare they'd rummaged up for her. She liked black, even if they didn't, and if her coal stallion was the ugliest beast within miles, well, she'd be damned if he weren't the fastest and by far the most intelligent.

"You're better than all these, all show and nothing to come out of it," she murmured to her Quest for War, ignoring the disapproving glances from the elves around her.

Which only served to darken her already black mood.

Still, she had Reggie, or so his pet name was, with her, and he'd never yet failed to be a comfort. This was her horse, and her own. Oh, she was no horse-tamer, but none else would he suffer upon his back. And he may be an ugly brute, with his almost emaciated body, lanky, bone-thin legs, and a head that could only be described as 'mean', but those yellowed, too-big jaws never once snapped at her, and those quicksilver hooves never once aimed her way.

Yes, she had to admit, she did love him.

Maybe it was his ugly face that only smiled her way. Maybe it was the fact that he tolerated all her frequent whining. Maybe it was the fact that he belonged, too, to the shadows, that he was dark and distant and excluded a chilling aura of death.

Or maybe it was the fact that he was more like her than she liked to admit; maybe it was the fact that he was an outcast.

And maybe he was the only thing she did care for, with a frightening intensity that she herself would not come to terms with. He was the only one who was hers for no other reason than to be hers, and she loved him all the more for that. And no elf was going to take him away from her.

Even though his paces were less than comfortable, and by the sixth hour Tera began to feel every jolt and creak of the saddle. And the saddle had not been made for comfort, but for speed. Her legs had started to cramp in the short stirrups, and her back had ached horribly from having to stay forwards in the saddle, instead of taking a comfortable slouch.

That sixth hour had been a long time ago.

"We stop here," a voice broke into her thoughts. She glanced up quickly, more than half embarrassed at being caught off guard.

"Of course," she replied to Glorfindel, ignoring a helping hand to leap nimbly off her very-tall horse herself. It was a long way to the ground for her sore self, and her five-foot frame looked half the size of her eighteen-three hand horse, but she was a thief, and an assassin, and if she could land safely from a rood or rafter, a little bit of stiffness couldn't stop her from doing so from a horse.

"For how long?" she questioned diffidently, ignoring the discomfort invoked by hours on horseback.

"Long enough for you to stretch out," came the reply, which immediately had her head tossed and eyes flaming.

She hadn't been any kind of burden for as long as she could remember, and she most certainly wasn't going to be one now. Not now, not ever. She didn't want to be seen by those elves as anything other than more capable than they.

"I can assure you that will not be necessary," she hissed, ignoring the biting stiffness in her legs.

Glorfindel noticed at once, mentally berated himself, and rummaged quickly through his mind for something, anything, to prevent an explosion.

Tera noticed, and hid a small, snarling, smile. So the elves had already learned to tread carefully around her. Good. That would be useful, and at least she knew she had their fear, if not their respect. Fear of what she would do was fine for now; it was better than she be thought of as little better than thief scum.

"Believe me, lady, it is not only for you," he amended hastily, and Tera could tell immediately that he was trying to conjure up a valid excuse, "some of us are travel-weary ourselves. Surely you won't mind being used as an excuse."

"You lie horribly, elf," she, well, not quite snarled.

"On the contrary, I do believe I. . . speak untruths very well, lady, provided you give me time to make them up," he replied.

That was the time when she was supposed to give her little, raging speech! How dare he spoil her tantrum!

She opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Glorfindel waited. And waited. And then, taking advantage of her lack of words, offered her his arm.

She took it without thinking, then snatched her hand back again.

"That was my tantrum you disrupted!" She didn't quite know whether to shout or snarl, and the result was an ineffective in-between.

Glorfindel shrugged, eyes twinkling in amusement.

"It was? I apologize, lady, if I had known, I would have. . . done the same thing," and now the laughter in his voice, enough to amuse and not to irk, was clear.

The un-irking tone still managed to raise her hackles up, however, and the fact that she very stupidly could not think of much else to say had her quite appalled.

"And now I think I shall to the wise thing, and keep my mouth shut an try to salvage this situation," she muttered, incensed but trying not to seem quite so immature.

"I must admit, however," the elf lowered his voice, still amused and sounding somewhat as if discussing the weather, "that you have made quite the impression among my fellow elves. We elves are a subtle race, and they were quite taken aback when you ignored their disapproval and insisted on your horse. A disapproving glance means quite a lot, you see."

Oh, thought they were so high and superior, did they? She felt flames licking the edges of her temper, and forcibly fanned them off.

"Well," Tera bit out, "I'm glaring daggers at them, and they aren't exactly killing themselves for me, now, are they?"

To her surprise, and to her irritation, Glorfindel let out a laugh, musical and low, the complete epitome of the word 'laugh'.

Had she ever mentioned that she hated perfection?

"Well said, lady," he chuckled, amused, "but be sure to keep that comment to yourself, else offend them greatly."

I say what I want, when I want, she thought with narrowed eyes, but nodded curtly.

"Of course. The last thing I want to do is offend them," she said, her tone very obviously sardonic.

She received a raised brow in reply, and a little smile, before Glorfindel went to rejoin his kin.

Shaking her head, she gathered the reins over her stallion's head and took them both for a walk, trying to stretch out the cramps before it was time to ride again.

The signal to ride came almost too soon.

"Lady?" An elf had come, gauging by his eyes –the only way Tera could really tell very much about them –infinitely younger than Glorfindel, to assist her.

She ignored the helping hand, as usual placing both hands onto the pommel of her side, readying her leap, when she suddenly felt hands on her upper arm, on the small, black design on her skin, where her sleeve had slid down her lean, scarred arm.

"And what is this?"

She whirled around, glaring. Proud, overbearing, and annoyingly curious?

"It is what it is," she hissed, tugging her sleeve back from where it had fallen. Had he never seen others mark themselves before? Or did he condemn her as one of those who practiced 'self mutilation'?

"But why a dragon?" The elf persisted with his questions, lifting her sleeve once more to gaze at the dark dragon, wings outstretched and fangs gleaming, fire surrounding its figure.

Tera tensed as she noticed the other elves eyeing both it and her skeptically. Even Glorfindel seemed to be waiting for her answer.

"I was feeling particularly mean that night," she said, trying to make light of the question.

It didn't work.

"And why did you choose it?" the elf pressed.

Idiot, insufferable, bastard elf! She not –quite –snarled at the questioning eyes of the ellon.

"So I could remind me of what I am," she bit out, eyes flashing, daring anyone to challenge her.

No one did.

For one moment all was silent. Tera kept her chin held in defiance, an angry pride etched in her body.

Then. . .

"And who are you?"

More silence.

The tension filled thick in the air.

And then again-

"A hunter," she snarled, "a fighter. Someone who will never, ever, be held down. To remind me that I am power, and I am death, and that no one can ever bring me down.

"And," her voice lowered into a smolder, "to remind me that my life is mine, and no one, no one, be he orc or human or elf, can rule it for me."

She leaped onto Quest of War, challenge still brazen in her high-held head and blazing eyes, and her mount tore at air with his hooves in answer to her stiff tension and tightened reins.

And the elves gazed on with a dispassion that screamed something behind the silk walls. And Tera's eyes blazed with the knowledge of what they were, or at least what she thought they were, thinking.

She was as different from them as night from day. As black from white. And neither can live with each other. She knew very well that she could never tolerate them for long. She knew very well that they could only mask a tolerance for her.

And so she sat, a dark assassin on her dark, rearing horse, and without a word the elves motioned their white steeds on. And she followed, the outsider, the one with darkness and flame that could almost be more dangerous than any orc or goblin. Although of course, she would never use that power for any side but theirs.

Or would she. . .