[i]Tetra[/i] Through the woods the marauders led the Huntress. For hours they walked in complete, agonizing silence. It was becoming too much to bear; especially when Tetra tripped on an outstretched branch and was slapped by a leaf. “Ahh…to have the days where we weren’t being chased or led into a thick forest blindfolded,” Trinity suddenly blurts. “Those were the times…” “Silence your Ghost,” Jae orders briskly. “There’s a reason we’ve been silent this whole time: Fallen occupy these grounds.” Tetra whispers, “Then why are we going through these grounds?” “Cabal won’t follow. Their hold on the City is fresh so they won’t come too far. They will eventually. Now hush. We’re almost through.” The silence continues. Every once in a while Tetra notices something snarling nearby. She holds her breath and hopes it isn’t a Fallen scout. Finally she feels the ground change. Instead of soft and squishy if turns solid and hard. They were out of the forest. “Still can’t let you see,” Jae tells her. “Our outpost is a little farther ahead. We’ll talk there.” “I don’t have time,” Tetra growls. “I want my memory back, and I’ll go get Rys myself if it speeds up the process.” A gun clicks and she feels something press against her forehead. “No Light, no revives. Talk again and I shoot. You’re putting all of us in danger, Hunter. Get it together. The Warlock will wait.” “How did you know he was a Warlock?” Silence. They resume the march. [i]Cornelia[/i] The red-haired assassin scrunches up her nose at the sight before her: a bar and saloon with a massive amount of ruffians and brigands either fighting, drinking, or throwing up. An official fighting match was taking place in the center of the bar, within the confines of a rope wsquare. The cheers coming from that direction encouraged Cornelia. She smiles. Her soon-to-be friend is here. She approaches the ring. A large, stocky man with an ugly face, armed with an axe, was fighting a skinny woman clothed in a black tunic, hood, and mask about Cornelia's height who held no weapon. The woman is standing straight, barely making an effort to dodge the brute's predictable and primitive attacks. The man roars in fury as the woman sidesteps his blade. He moves to kick her and she ducks easily before sliding a hidden knife down his calf. Blood pours, and the man has no time to react before the knife meets his throat. He makes no sound as he falls. The woman has won. Cornelia is grinning, now. Cheers erupt from the crowd as the woman collects her reward from the manager. She sights Cornelia, who motions to a booth at the far end of the bar. Within minutes drinks have been poured, and the two are seated at the booth. The woman makes no sound, and makes no move to sip from her glass. Cornelia drinks her own moderately, conservatively. “So. How have you been?” the Warlock asks sweetly. The woman does not speak for a moment. “Bored.” “I’ll say! I was surprised to hear that you were fighting in a place like this. Not exactly a five-star establishment.” “It pays. I have enough to stay in a room and eat twice a day, but not enough to move on. It is an endless cycle.” Cornelia rests her chin on her palms and plants her elbows on the table. “How would you like to come with me?” “Where?” “Wherever the Light – and my revenge – take us. Nomads, more or less.” “Why me? Explain my role.” “You would be one of my bodyguards. A close ally and friend. A soldier and an advisor. Mostly a soldier.” Cornelia pauses. “Clementine, I am in desperate need of good friends who will help me. You are one of those good friends I’ve considered. I have fond memories of the time we’ve spent together. Our families were thick as thieves. So…what do you say?” “Anything to get out of this trash hole…madam.” The Hunter exits the seat and bows before her employer. Cornelia stands and smiles, pleased. “I have an excellent feeling about this arrangement, Clementine.”