Nether was old news in the Overworld by now, but still the villagers never got tired of her. Wild tales spread about a woman who searched for monsters at night but found none, who could burn villages with a flick of her finger, who could give a stare so harsh that it made people cry.

Some called it cakes and crab muffins. Others believed it, and had dreams that hurt to think of.

But Nether was real, very real, and was roving the countryside, searching.

One night, she was looking for a place to rest for a while before moving on. There was a village on the horizon but Nether didn't want to go there. Zombies preyed on villagers, and Nether was not prepared to go among zombies. They always rekindled a little hate in her- they'd given up the Nether in favour of the Overworld and more, nearer prey.

Somewhere behind her, there was a muffled curse.

Nether spun around and stared.

There was a woman there, crouching by a bush, with a bit of spiderweb on her face. She looked like a deer caught in headlights as she froze, staring up at Nether.

"Kym…" the woman whispered softly.

As she rose, Nether realised that she wasn't an adult, but about fifteen or sixteen years old. She was small, too- barely came up to Nether's chin. But her face seemed like that of an adult. Perhaps the scars did that. They laced her pale skin, every one a bad reminder.

Her armour was clearly made of iron, but it was old and scratched, with a deep groove in the side of the chest plate. The pale colour of it contrasted with the hair falling to her waist, dark brown except for a white streak. Fleetingly Nether wondered why she didn't tie it up.

The look in the girl's eyes was weary. She placed a hand on her sword.

Nether remembered the way all those so-called Overworld 'heroes' had attempted to fight her, back in the Nether. Her lips tweaked into a smile for the first time in days. She drew her own sword.

Even in the night, it shone like fire, and she could see the girl could tell that the sword would burn. The girl drew her own sword from its scabbard. It was simple and without ornament, just a long, sharp iron bar.

Without warning, the girl attacked.

After three seconds, Nether realised something was wrong. The girl wasn't dead. Was this girl amazingly brilliant with a sword? Or had Nether lost her touch?

Nether fought back harder, her sword and fury pressing down on the girl like iron weights. The girl gritted her teeth and fought on. Nether respected her for that, though she would never in a million years have admitted it.

The girl almost landed the sword on Nether's forearm, but Nether just about managed to jump back. She cursed herself and focused more.

It wasn't long before Nether realised: in her weakened state, she couldn't kill the girl immediately, but it would happen. The girl had needs of the flesh, and she was tired. She wasn't so much slender as thin and bony, so she was probably pretty hungry. Unlike Nether, the girl couldn't go on forever.

So Nether decided to bide her time, and wait awhile. Meanwhile she'd just bait the girl, play with her a bit, as she'd always wanted to do with the heroes in the Nether, but had been unable to because she had to remove the threat quickly.

Nether behaved like her strength was sapping. The girl's eyes glinted slightly, because, tired as she was, she had-

And suddenly she was pinned down. Nether's sword was at her throat.

Nether's red-white eyes glittered as she pressed the sword down harder on the girl's neck. Her pale skin blistered with the heat of the sword. Blood trickled down her neck from where the sword sliced into her flesh.

Nether grinned with savage pleasure, her teeth very white in her dark red face.

The girl opened her mouth. "Stop the amateur dramatics," she muttered hoarsely. She took a deep breath and rasped one word. "KYM!"

Something bit fiercely at Nether's shoulder, and scraped her back. She lost her balance and fell backwards to the ground, but was up again in a trice. Her face felt hot, especially behind the eyes. She looked with loathing at the burnt girl crouching on the ground, staring at her, and her wolf, which was nudging at her shoulder and whining.

She thought of a woman who had everything. Who had an entire realm, and many species to protect. Herself, of course. But the old her. Not this one.

"Don't you dare ever look at me again." Nether said. Her voice choked up a little. Hoping the girl hadn't noticed, she moved away into the trees.