"The cold will kill me before a Hunter does, I swear it." Sanders grumbles. I roll my eyes and focus on putting one foot in front of the other, not the cold that's seeping through my boots, and the constant remarks on the weather, me, and the warm tavern we've just passed that Sanders points out every five minutes.
"Yeah, well, it's not my fault you went and got drunk." I retort. He stops walking and turns to face me. His blond hair is shoulder length and his bloodshot eyes are all over the path.
"Don't try to pin this one on me, Wolfe," He hisses. "I would have won that fight if you hadn't-"
"If I hadn't what? Saved your drunk ass a beating? Thanks, Sanders, I'll remember that the next time someone's took it upon themselves to try and rob you, alright?" I push past him and keep walking. He sticks out his hand and grabs my wrist, pulling me close enough that I can smell his whiskey breath and whatever poor animal he ate last night.
"Don't you talk down to me, Wolfe," He says, whiskey breath choking me. "I can turn you in just as easily as I broke you outta that deal you made." My face must be showing more emotion than I want, because he smiles and lets go of my arm, brushing his own off like I'm a beggar who's approached him for a coin.
"That deal," I pull away from him. "Was a setup. Another Assassin took a fancy to me and wanted me dead. I didn't ask for your help. Your a drunkard, who at one point was probably as good a man as Ivanov." I spit in his direction and he winces. If you want to wound Sanders mentally, compare him to Ivanov Krieger. Rumor says he feeds his enemies to his pet Dire Wolf. This rumor pisses me off, because 1) I don't eat people 2) I'm not his pet and 3) people shouldn't even know about me. A Dire wolf Shifter is rare and they say died a long time ago. Their just legend in today's society. But I know firsthand that I exist.
My cloak is soaking and I have to pull the hood back over my face once we reach the next village.
"That's it Wolfe, I'm not standing in this rain anymore. I'm going to go get drunk and act like I don't know you." Sanders announces.
"You don't." I mutter. Sure, he knows I'm an Assassin, but that's about it. We enter the tavern and Sanders goes to the bar. I go to a table in the corner and twirl a black rose in my fingers.
A man maybe a moon or two older than me walks towards Sanders at the bar. I'm keeping my word and staying out of it until Sanders points at me and the man's gaze finds mine. His hood is pulled over his face, hiding anything I'd see. He makes his way through the crowd towards me.
I stand up and walk for the door, acting casual in my movements. I turn to look over my shoulder, putting hand on my dagger when I see that the man follows me. I turn forward again and run into the chest of a man I hadn't seen. Smiling eyes look down at me, the same mischievous look in them that I have in my own.
"Ryko," I say in relief. My brother smiles.
"It's good to see you, Max." Only Ryko can call me Max, the nickname he came up with when we were young for Maxine. By calling me Max, he breaks through the lie I have formed around myself. I stopped insisting he call me Crimson years ago. Deep brown hair, almost black hair, kind eyes, that innocent look we share, that in the end get's people killed. I look over my shoulder again. The man is no where to be seen.
"Let's talk outside, shall we?" I grab his elbow and lead him outside.
"Are you on a job?" He asks. I shake my head.
"Just finished one," A man. It had payed well, but I'd been having nightmares for a few night's about what would have happened if I'd dropped my dagger. I rub my throat unconsciously.
"Was it bad?" He asks gently. I love my brother. Always knows when to crack a joke, when to be serious, when to be brotherly, and when to help.
"A little, but there aren't marks that don't fade." I shrug. His eyes have pity in them, something I don't like. He's over protective sometimes. Ryko's eyes look past me.
"You've got a shadow." He mutters.
"I know." I don't look. "I'll meet you back here in an hour." He nods and- slipping a piece of paper into my hand- walks away. I glance down at the paper.
Double hit. John and Carla Manning. Eight year old daughter, has nightmares will sometimes climb into bed with parents. Date of death needs to be in five days.
I walk back into the bar, searching for Sanders. The man follows me back in, and just before he puts his hand on my shoulder, I stick my foot out. The barmaid trips, dumping ale on a man sitting down's trousers. The man exclaims and stands up, grabbing the front of a man's shirt, who was walking by. The man swings, and I duck, the thrill of a bar fight ripples through the room. I turn to look back, and the man stands on the other side of the bar, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. I ignore the unspoken threat.
I make it to the alley on the other side, scaring a group of women collecting water from a well. They slosh water on the ground as they walk quickly towards their houses. Small, hut-like houses. Usually only two bedroom, a bathroom, a sitting room and a counter serving as a kitchen.
My bow is slung over my shoulder beside my broadsword and bow quiver, raising eyebrows and frightened looks from children. Only a fool isn't afraid of an Assassin. But then again, as a woman, no one would guess I was an Assassin. Because as part of the treaty, women and children can't be Assassin. I broke both rules at the age of twelve. They'll assume I'm a squire or something of that degree. They'll wonder why I'm not wearing a standard woman's garb though. A dress with flats, my hair in a braid. Many girls walk past me, either avoiding me or pausing and staring for as long as they dare. Men do the same, only they aren't just staring at me pants, T shirt and cloak, they stare at my face. Which for some 'odd' reason pisses me off.
"You lose something over here?" I ask one of the men. My own little curse. Not being able to hold my tongue. He shakes his head and continues walking. I reach the edge of the town, then use the woods as a cover as I go all the way back to the front of the bar. Ryko waits for me.
"You lose him?" He asks. I nod, pulling my hood back. I pause, and put it back on. The hills have eyes, and the walls have ears. I sit down beside him on the deck of the bar, and we sit in silence for a moment.
"Are you thinking about the job?" He asks.
"Which one?" I ask. There are so many.
"The one now. Are you going to do it?"
"Ryko. It's practically a remake of our parent's murder. Why would I want to take the job?"
He sighs and rubs his face tiredly. "I need the money." He catches the look on my face. "I'm sorry, Max, but if I don't get this money, Camus will have my hide. Please, I know I told you that was the last time, but this is, really. I won't ask again. I'll- I'll get a stable job and I'll try and take care of Riff better, but I just don't have the money right now."
My brother had a stable job as a trader for years, and that's when he met Shay. They had a child, Riff, and Shay didn't want to be a mother and ditched them. Riff is six now. Ryko lost his job as a trader during the War Of Lost Sons, just like so many others. A King in another territory (country) thought his sons were being held captive, and declared a war. His sons had drowned in a river near the hunting woods, and the King had called back his army after destroying two major cities and killing hundreds. Ryko does odd jobs now. Transporting weapons into other countries, clothes, food, whatever he needs to. He's a good man. He hasn't missed any of Riff's birthdays, he's never not paid the rent, he helps around his neighborhood, but when night comes on, he takes his jobs and doesn't blab. He's been raided twice on a drug bust, and since he doesn't take any home, doesn't touch the stuff, and it isn't in his system, they leave. He's a good man in the wrong place.
"Ryko, don't worry about it," I say, giving him a hug. "It'll get better for you." I whisper.
"But what about you. Is Sanders treating you okay?" Ryko had spent a lot of money to get Sanders to bail me. Little did he know, Sanders is a drunk who has a girl in every port.
"He's great, Ryko. I'm so glad you found him." He searches for a lie in my eyes, but I'd mastered lying by the time I was fourteen.
"You are most complicated twenty two year old there is." He jokes, pulling me in for another hug.
"And you are the most complicated thirty year old there is." He releases me and mounts his horse, looking down at me.
"If you ever need to stay somewhere, you know where I keep the key, alright?" He asks.
"I know. Tell Riff hi for me," I dig into my pocket. "And when his birthday comes around, give him this." A gold medallion with 'Riff' written in the old Elven language. Ryko smiles.
"He's never going to let it go." He rides down the lane and I let the pride sink in.
Riff loves Elves. He's crazy about them. Ever since I'd come for a visit with an Elven friend of mine when he was three, he's been wholly fascinated by them. He's learning Elven as a second language, and he amazes me, as a five year old who hasn't even mastered english yet.
I turn to the woods, peering into the trees for any signs of life. A bird flutters, a moth detaches itself from a tree, and a nymph waves shyly at me. I wave back. Nymphs are gentle and shy in these parts, whereas in others they're hostile and will trap you in spider webs. I shudder, remembering the web I was caught in. Lucky I'd had my dagger at easy access.
I look for a decent hotel and set five gold peices on the counter. The woman looks at me.
"And your companion?" She asks. I turn around. No one.
"Companion?" She nods.
"The man. The man that entered and then left." She explains. S***. I didn't lose the tail.
"He's not with me, and if he asks my room number, don't give it to him." I slap down two extra gold coins, just for her, and she nods. I take the key and let myself into the room. A sofa, a desk, and a bed.
"Thank you, Odin." I mutter, taking off my weapons and lying on the bed. Within seconds I'm asleep.

~*~*~*~

"Don't tell me. Umm," Ryko's face tells me that the answer is in plain sight, I just think it's a tough one. I look around the room. A picture of Riff and Ryko, a shelf with books, a window- an open window.
I sit up and look at the window. Open. I stand up and close it, chills rippling down my body. I don't scare easily. So why are you actually shaking right now?
I look to the door. I jiggle the door nob. Still locked. How the Hel did the window open? Not that Hel had anything to do with it.
I pick up my dagger and twirl it on my fingers. I look at the window. Open. What the Hel? I close it, then sit on the edge of the bed and watch it. It slowly opens. I quickly go to the window and look out. Nothing. I laugh at my stupidity.
"Come on, Maxine, what did you think it was?" I ask myself. "The Ghost?" The wind. The wind is blowing against the window, which opens inwards. I chuckle again.
I lay back down and put my dagger under my pillow. As a second thought, I reach over and light the kerosene lamp. Then I latch the window shut and close the curtain. I pull parchment, a quill, and ink from my backpack.
Dearest Riff, I apologize that I could not make it to your birthday this year. I am very busy, but I hope that the medallion your father so kindly brought from me to you will suffice. I am heading into the badlands soon, and hopefully I will find something of your interest there, and will send it along with a letter.
~Aunt Max. ~
I fold the top and bottom of the letter over the middle, putting it in it's own little envelope. I grab a small circle of wax and hold it over the candle for a moment. It melts a little and I put it on the envelope, pressing my ring onto it, with my seal.
I put two daggers in my belt and grab the letter, throwing on my cloak. I blow out the kerosene lamp and lock the door when I walk out. I decend the stairs to the first floor and look for a trader, or a messenger. A wagon passes the tavern and I hurry after it, hailing it by raising my hand above my head and tucking in my thumb. The wagon stops and I go to the front.
The man peers down at me from behind a bushy grey beard and I hand him the envelope.
"It must get safely to Grendul, along Fox Lane. Ryko Shane." I tell him.
"What are you trading then?" He asks with a french accent.
"Gold?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"Silver. Makes people think I've got more money than I do." He winks. I pull ten silver coins from my pouch and hand them to him. He leans closer.
"You'd better watch out, missy, that man doesn't look like someone you'd want to dance with." He nods over my shoulder. I turn. Between moving carts, horses, and people, I see that same black cloak. I turn back to the trader.
"Four more silver you don't tell him what I gave you if he asks." I offer. He shakes his head.
"Traders honor. I don't ever cheat my trades." He bades me a good day and yanks on the reigns, his chestnut ponies setting off.
I look over my shoulder again and walk back towards the hotel just as it begins to rain again. I step inside and the woman waves her hand at me. I go to her and before I can ask, she speaks.
"The man didn't ask me, I swear! He just went on ahead and knew which room you were in!" She's shaking, obviously frightened that I don't believe her.
"Thank you for the warning," I look towards the stairs that lead to my room. "I'll take care of it."
I walk up the stairs on light feet, my dagger in hand. The door to my room isn't open. I slowly turn the knob and fling the door open, my dagger drawn back, ready to throw. The room is empty. There are signs someone besides me has been in here though. I walk through the room the way the evidence proves a man did. I pause in front of the desk, where the footprints in the rug are deepest. I close my eyes.
A man. A man might want... money. Notes. Anything! I open my eyes again. The only thing moved is my parchment. Flipped over and moved an inch to the side. Then there's the dot of spilled ink. He must have picked up the quill and a drop of ink fell. I walk to the bed, pick up my broadsword and see that it was pulled from it's sheath. Admiration… I look at everything else. The parchment and the broadsword are the only things that were moved.
I look around again, for anything I could have missed. Nothing. Then I notice the most obvious sign. The kerosene lamp is lit. I go to it and freeze when I see what dangles there.
A black Dragon scale, inscribed with a scythe. Reaper.
I grab my cloak and my broadsword. I don't need anything else. I walk back downstairs, the rain pouring down now. Pulling up my hood, I walk across the street to the tavern. I scan the room and, not seeing a certain black cloak, take a seat in the corner, leaving my hood up.
"What would you like, s-ma'am?" The barmaid asks.
"Dragonale." I reply gruffly. She thought I was a sir. Hmph. She walks away, and I again survey the room. Drunkards in the right side, others on the left side. Across the room is a group of men, drinking and guffawing at the barmaids. Disgusting. My ale is sat in front of me and the girl tries to peek under my hood. I grab her wrist.
"Unless you want to loose that hand," I snap. "Keep it away from my face."
She nods hastily and stumbles away. Two hours pass and no one leaves, but one person enters. More of a shadow than a person, really. A dark Elf. He sits down across from me and pulls an envelope from his dark forest green cloak. We sit in silence for a moment, a custom to see who will speak first.
"Your a woman." The Elf says gruffly. Blonde hair, a Roman nose, downturned mouth.
"Is there a problem?" I ask with a sickly sweet grin.
"Of course not." He smiles back, the jagged scar on the left side of his face making him wince.
"You've got a target for me?" I ask. He shrugs.
"I do." He nods. "But not just you. Reaper is needed." I stare at him.
Reaper is an Assassin that is only in it for big sums of Ediram (money) and the last person to work with him was found dead in a forest, twelve miles from where the target was.
"You're insane." I push away from the table and begin to walk for the door.
"Five hundred Ediram and your nephews life." The elf calls after me.
Riff.
"There are written laws that say you can't come within five feet of my nephew." I say over my shoulder. He can't. But written laws aren't the only thing keeping Riff and Ryko safe.
"You're right about that." He agrees. "But there are no laws that say Reaper can't."