Kahlan stared into the embers of the fire, gripping the hilt of one of her daggers. Though too lost in her mind to stand watch, her dagger would bury itself in the dagger of whatever stumbled too close. Earlier, she had thought she heard something, rather, felt something, but when she looked, she only found a swaying tree branch. Kahlan attributed it to a bird, even though she felt it wasn't. Whatever it was only worsened her mood.

Richard snorted in his sleep and her gaze flickered to him, her eyebrows drawing together. Lately, almost everything he did irritated Kahlan and she had a guess or two as to why, but it still didn't seem justified. Maybe she was just too stressed out and taking it out on him. The thought itself bothered her. Angered her.

She was the Mother Confessor.

She had to be stronger.

Kahlan rose to build the fire back up so they could eat. When he awoke, Richard would complain that she should've let him do it, but she didn't care. She'd just smile and wave it off. Though she wasn't herself—or maybe she was. Spirits, she didn't know anymore. But she'd been mostly able to contain it. Until that cursed Mord'Sith. Kahlan's eyes settled on the sunlight beginning to break through the treetops, bidding goodbye to the tranquil time to herself.

"Richard."
The man didn't stir.

Normally, a smile would tug at her lips because of such a thing, but she only felt her eyebrow rise. The woman crouched, picked up a rather small rock and pitched it at his prone form.

The rock glanced off his shoulder and he flailed about before trippingly standing, sword held out to defend himself.
Kahlan laughed, "You should probably pull it from the scabbard first."

Richard looked at the sheathed sword dumbly and scratched his head, a sheepish smile coming to his face. "That would be helpful, huh?"
She merely shook her head, a small smile coming to her face. Richard beamed at her, making his way over to help with the fire.

When Kahlan waved him off, his pace became uncertain. "Are you sure?"
Her lip twitched, but the smile remained in place. "It's already taken care of, Richard."

The man's face fell, provoking a feeling of guilt from Kahlan, before looking into the forest and back to her, grinning. "Did you hunt, too?"
"Not yet," she replied, not really liking where he was going.

Richard squeezed her shoulder. "Then I'll be back soon." He stooped beside his bedroll for a moment and walked off into the forest, leaving her to stare after him.

Something troubling struck Kahlan.

Struck her so hard she just fell to her knees.

She wanted to break something, to feel the impact of her fist on someone's face, to hear someone beg her for mercy only to be denied.

She wanted to kill someone.

Blue eyes fell upon shaking hands, clenched into fists. She relaxed them, running them down her thighs over and over. Finally, she just clasped her hands together, her knuckles white. Heart thundering in her chest, she closed her eyes and attempted to focus on it.

"What's wrong with me?" she whispered into the air.

Her gaze fell upon the small fire and she sighed, moving to lean back against a log. Richard would be back soon so she didn't need to worry about keeping the fire. She realized her hands were in fists again.

Kahlan exhaled loudly, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She closed her eyes.

A twig snapped and Kahlan's arm shot out, but she twitched her fingers at what might've been the last moment. The dagger buried itself in a tree next to a wide-eyed Richard, frozen in his tracks.

By the Creator, she could've killed the Seeker. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

He laughed, but she could hear the undertones of fear. "Of course. I'm glad you're on my side."

She rose to relieve him of the couple of rabbits he caught as he freed her dagger from the tree. Kahlan accepted it with a small, forced smile. "I wouldn't be on anyone else's side."

"Good," he said, stealing the rabbits back from her, "because I'll take care of this."

Though she ached for something to do, to occupy her hands, to keep her from thinking, she let him take to the task, moved to the other side of their small fire. She had to be more careful. If she didn't contain whatever was wrong with her, she wouldn't be any good to the Seeker. Richard, she corrected.

Once again, Kahlan got lost in the fire, listening to the faint crackling of it. Soon her eyes focused on Richard. What about him had changed? He was stronger, wiser, perhaps more determined.

He chose that moment to rub the back of his hand across his forehead and looked up, smiling at her. She returned it mechanically, the action making the man nod as he went back to preparing their food.

It wasn't him, it was her.

What about her had changed?

Before Kahlan could even think of where to look for her answer, a suspicious cracking noise caught her attention. It couldn't have been the fire, it sounded off. Her eyes cast around and she was rewarded with the sight of a few swaying tree branches. One was broken, barely attached to the tree anymore, but what made it so interesting was the fragment of red leather stuck to it.

Hands flying to her daggers as she rose, focused solely on the thought of the woman it belonged to, she couldn't help the glare fixed on Richard when he caught her by the arm.

"You can't just run off, what is it?"

"A Mord'Sith."

His brow furrowed. "How do you know it was just one?"

"If there were more, they would've ambushed us, so," she looked back to the leather, "Why are we discussing this?"

"I think we should split up."

"Excuse me?"

"I can track her, you try to find Zedd."

"Are you crazy?"

Richard gazed in the direction of the leather, avoiding her intense eyes. "You said it yourself- she's alone. If she ran, it was because she felt threatened and-"

"We're wasting time, Richard!"

He pulled harder on her arm as she tried to break free. "Kahlan, you can tell when people are lying. Go to the camp and try to find some information on Zedd. There's no more than three men, you can handle yourself."

"Meanwhile the Mord'Sith gets away."

Richard released her arm and offered what he must've thought to be a reassuring smile. "By now, she's slowed down because she's not being chased and she'll feel overconfident."

She couldn't quite look at him. It occurred to her that her fingers hurt, so she relaxed her grip on her daggers, sheathing them. "And if she has friends waiting for her?"
"Then why would she be travelling alone?"

There was no winning. "This isn't the best plan, Richard."

"I know, but I don't want to be here any longer than we have to be. There's something wrong here."

"All the more reason to stay together." She said the words, though she didn't feel them. Part of her was happy to be left with herself.

He turned to go, but whipped back around, a troubled look on his face. "You don't think it's Cara, do you?"

"No!" It came out faster than she meant it to, surprising herself as much as him.

"I was just wondering, since she makes you so upset…"

"I didn't think it until you mentioned it."

Richard studied her a moment longer. "Be safe."

She merely nodded as she started putting out the fire. It was a shame they didn't have time to eat. As Richard's footsteps faded, she realized she hadn't told him to be careful, or that she loved him.

A gloved hand caught hold of a man's collar and shoved him into two advancing men. Seeing a fourth man rushing her, Cara made a hasty decision to land a kick on him despite her questionable sense of balance and the fresh beer coating the wooden floor. The blow made her slip and she barely caught herself thanks to a table. He let his sword clatter to the ground as he stumbled into a different table, but he just grinned and heaved a nearby chair at the Mord'Sith. Busy trying to regain her footing and gauge how quickly the two of men on the floor would recover—since one was unconscious—she barely noticed the chair in time to raise her arms.

The impact sent her backward and over thanks to the slippery floor and the less than helpful chair behind her. She cursed, bracing herself for the fall with her arms.

She hated small environments.

Cara seized pieces of the very chair that hit her and hurled them at her attacker, lunging forward as she did so. The man batted away the hunks of chair. A stray piece collided with his face, but his jaw fell open when an unexpected agiel slammed into his side. Then another. He passed out.

Or died.

It didn't matter.

About to bring her fist down on his face anyway, the Mord'Sith stopped. She had two unaccounted for assailants.

She whirled around to discover that a man was being by held one of her attackers and beaten by the other. Strange as it was, Cara didn't hesitate to holster one of her agiels and run over. Her arm slipped around his neck as her agiel drove into his spine, screaming as loudly as he was.

She tossed him aside as his remaining companion pushed the beaten man into her. The extra weight made her grunt and she heard him drawing his sword. With no other option, Cara shoved the man back into him and whipped her agiel across the brute's face. They both fell to the ground and her boot elicited a sickening crack from the man's neck.

Cara gazed around wildly, chest heaving from exertion, and discovered no more hostiles, just a few men that were too terrified to flee when the fight started. The bartender peeked out over the counter as she retrieved her bow and arrows. She'd have words with him later. Her gaze came back to the man entangled with the body of her enemy.

Holstering her agiel, she crouched beside him, rolling the corpse off of him. She stared at the man as he sat up, coughing and holding his side, looking back at her despite a swelling eye. "You attacked them." A statement, not a question.

He laughed, though it quickly became a cough and he simply nodded.

"Why?"

"Haven't had hope in a long time." He winced as the bartender held a wet rag to his eye.

Her lip curled into a smile. "How long is a long time?"

Though he looked as if he expected her to beat him to death, the bartender spoke up. "Laugh if you want, but you have them running, not the Seeker and the Mother Confessor."

"They were here?"

"Passed through quickly, looking for an old wizard," chimed in the bloody man.

"Shut up, Tommy Boy. Will, help Tommy to a bed." The bartender moved as a man came over to get Tommy up.

Cara grabbed his collar, drawing his attention away from the beaten man. "How long ago and who is they?"

"Few months. A Mord'Sith and a young wizard came in with these damn slavers."

Things made little sense, she wanted to kill someone and her patience was wearing thin. "And they kidnapped the old wizard." He nodded, compliant, but her voice still rose. "What do they want with the old man?"

He leaned away from her a little. "Elysan needs him for power, don't know what for." He ran a hand through his balding hair, adding with a curse, "Don't even know why they're taking our people. We need—"

"What was that racket in this damned…"

The haughty voice trailed off, but Cara knew it well. Turning in time to see a Mord'Sith staring at her in surprise, she smiled, stalking forward. "You ran off before I could greet you at the Temple. How rude of you, dear Trianna."

The woman ran off, yelling to someone. The thrill of the hunt made Cara's blood sing. She ran after Trianna, but cursed loudly at the sight of two more slavers waiting for her. A glance told her that her prey was riding off on a horse.

"Say we don't kill her yet and share her?"

The larger one laughed his agreement, cutting his axe through the air. His companion gripped a rusty sword and started toward her.

"I'm getting bored of all of you," she drawled, grabbing her agiels so tightly they screamed as if excited for blood.

The small one with a sword lunged at her with a cry. She deflected it with an agiel and struck him in the throat with the other. He crumpled, broken.

Cara rolled her shoulders, circling the larger man that had merely observed, the delight gone from his face. "Your turn."

She feinted, but he caught onto it and slammed the butt of his axe into her left shoulder. The shock of it nearly made her drop her agiel, but she gritted her teeth and held onto it for dear life as the blade of his weapon swung in her direction. Her agiel caught it by the hook of its blade. The blow she suffered and the man's raw strength made her fall to a knee.

She had to keep the blade away.

The Mord'Sith's free agiel connected with the inside of the man's knee. He howled in pain and wrenched his axe backward. The movement tore her agiel from her grasp and threw her off balance. He stumbled backward, unable to hold himself up properly from the injured knee. She picked up the fallen man's sword and drove it into the larger man's gut before letting an agiel scream into his chest.

Damn everyone for wasting her time.

Cara tried to ease her breathing as she went to retrieve her other agiel, testing her shoulder as she went. Having two of them was more than an advantage.

"There's a horse behind the tavern," called the bartender from the doorway.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"You weren't a friend."

She was going to point out she might very well kill him and was anything except his friend, but he'd already ducked back inside. With a huff, she stalked off to get the horse and wished she hadn't had to abandon her original horse in the first place. Damned trees were too thick for the beasts. But it didn't matter now, as she rode down the same road as Trianna. She'd have to abandon her horse, too. There was no way the Mord'Sith's lair was out in the open, by a plain road. And Cara would follow.

The hunt was on.

Down the road, out of town, Cara's suspicions proved right. She dismounted, noticing that the dirt was kicked up as if a maddened horse ran by instead of the normal prints she'd been following for a while. With a smile, she backtracked on foot until she found the start of the crazy prints.

"Not clever enough," she laughed, walking off into the trees.

She made sure not to get too excited despite the mad beating of her heart as she tracked Trianna. However, she eventually found a significant lack of previous passage and looked around with a scowl.

"Maybe clever enough," she growled.

Rolling her shoulders, Cara started in a direction at random. She stopped. She was being eager again, not thinking. There. The faint sound of a river. Cara stepped carefully, taking a few turns to get closer to the river, cursing Trianna. The Seeker. That damned Confessor. Mother Confessor, she noted with a dry laugh. Just as she began to think about beating up a tree to settle herself, the Mord'Sith heard a female voice. She dropped to a crouch and eased forward, half hiding behind a tree.

Fury burned in her veins.

The Mother Confessor spoke to herself as she walked along the river.

She drew her bow and pulled out an arrow, aiming at the dark-haired woman, murmuring, "Your heart is mine, right out of your chest."

Then a man stumbled out the brush. He shouted in surprise as loudly as the woman and Cara turned at the sound of more voices, realizing just off to the right was a small camp with at least two other men. She was too distracted by the woman to notice it at first. A stupid mistake. Let her die, then. Be done with it. If she lived, Cara could shoot her. Problem solved.

But to make things interesting, three men followed the first one out the brush. The Confessor was sorely outnumbered with just her daggers and Cara sighed. There wasn't anything entertaining about it.

As the men formed up to flank the lone woman, Cara loosed an arrow. Before a man fell, another arrow flew to bury itself in a man's leg. He cried out and though there was a certain amount of confusion, the Confessor apparently saw an opportunity, getting a hand on the one closest to her. Cara shot off one more arrow before running the small distance to the river and across it. She didn't want to miss the fun, after all.

The confusion had just about worn off, but the Mord'Sith swung her bow across the head of the man she'd just shot. Then her agiels came out.

Though they were a ragtag team and the confessed slaver was perhaps too intent on protecting the Confessor, they made short work of the surviving men. Just as Cara put her agiels away, she was shoved to the ground.

"What do I do with her, Mistress?" He leveled his sword at her, standing between her and the dark-haired woman.

"Get your pet or lose it, Confessor," she spat.

"It's okay. What's your name?" Kahlan touched his shoulder.

"You sure?"

Cara stood, wrenching the sword from him. "I'm sure."

He made to grab at it, but Kahlan's voice cut through the air. "Enough!" She eyed the Mord'Sith, but didn't move. "Your name?"

"My name is nothing, Mistress."

She gathered her daggers with a sigh, too tired to be aggravated by Cara's thinly veiled laughter. "What are you doing here?"

"The other Mord'Sith had us checking the forest in two groups."

"That's why there were more than three of you," Kahlan mused, choosing to ignore Cara's bored expression. Cara. Mord'Sith. "Other Mord'Sith?"

"Trianna," Cara supplied.

Kahlan frowned at her. Eventually, she nodded. "The one you were hunting?"

Cara nodded once.

The woman asked, more to herself than anything, how everything tied into each other, but the man took it to heart and opened his mouth. And promptly closed it thanks to Cara smacking the flat of his blade into his stomach.

"Cara!"

"What? I didn't kill him. I just know everything you need to know." Her eyebrow quirked. "And I didn't know we were on a first name basis, Confessor."

Kahlan sighed heavily. "Give him back the sword, we could use his help."

The Mord'Sith snorted. "Kill him or something, but be done with it. He's a blundering idiot and likely to get us killed."

"I'd die for my Mistress!"

Green eyes rolled. "And you were so eager to lick her boots you knocked her over in the middle of battle."

His jaw worked, but Kahlan cut in. "Fine. Go, protect the people of that town as you would me." Her hand stopped his protests. "Go."

The man's shoulders slumped, but he turned to Cara nonetheless, holding out his hand. "Yes, Mistress."

The blonde hesitated, though Kahlan couldn't guess why, and leveled the blade at his throat. "There's a man," she paused, tilting her head, "Thomas or something, at the tavern. He'll know someone that will help you, but make sure he's alive."

He looked to his Mistress and, receiving a nod, said, "Thomas or something. Tavern." He then took the offered sword and left.

Kahlan wandered over to the abandoned camp instead of watching the man go because she might've called him back. Something uncomfortable filled her stomach at the thought of being left alone with the Mord'Sith, though she supposed it didn't matter anymore.

"Where are you going?"

She sat on a log, not bothering to look up. "I imagine you've got a lot to tell me and only because you want revenge."

Cara started to object to wasting time, then bit her tongue as she actually looked at the Confessor. It was evident she hadn't been sleeping well for perhaps days and something troubled her as deeply as her apparent tiredness. She'd be no good to fight after more travelling. "Very well, we'll discuss it here."

"I don't know you, I don't trust you and I don't like you," she started as the Mord'Sith sat across from her, arching an eyebrow. "However, you've saved my life twice and I need—"

"I've counted four."

Disbelief washed over Kahlan's face. "You're counting?"

Cara smirked. "Defeating Darken Rahl, the Temple, and that ambush."

"The fourth?"

The blonde tilted her head. "Five, actually. This morning I didn't shoot you and—"

"That was you! Why'd you run from us?"

Cara's brow furrowed. Run from a Confessor? There was no way… True, she ran, but not from… "Trianna," she spat. With a dismissive wave, she continued, "Then before the ambush when I didn't shoot you."

"What is your obsession with shooting me? Or lack thereof?" Kahlan leaned back, trying to make sense of things, but finding it muddled by her mind and held her head. "You're a strange Mord'Sith, saving my life over and over."

A silence hung in the air for a while. "I just want to kill you myself."

"Later," she murmured, moving to a bedroll, oblivious to the somewhat unpleasant smell of it.

Green eyes watched as the woman's breathing settled and her expression relaxed. After a while, Cara stirred herself, uncertain why she'd been staring so intently at what should've been her enemy, but she knew one thing and it struck her so terribly that she couldn't get up to patrol the area fast enough. The Mord'Sith had no true, compelling desire to kill the Mother Confessor. She cast the realization aside, settling her mind on a single thing:

She was going to kill Trianna.