Freya walks alone amongst the trees of a long-forgotten grove. She can smell the familiar scent of maple against the dreary backdrop enticing her senses to get closer. As she walks she hums a gentle tune that reminds her of her childhood, one that her mother used to sing to her.

"Snap!"

She stops abruptly, her senses heightened, listening for the tiniest of movements.

"Snap!"

Her hand instinctively goes to her stomach, with her other hand reaching up and carefully lifting her bow from her shoulder. She holds it in her right hand, the seasoned grip melding to her hand as if they were one.

"Snap!"

The sound reverberating in amongst the close-set trees of the grove, bouncing from trunk to trunk in the hour before dusk. Her left-hand reaches down to her waist finding her quiver there strapped to her leg. Unfastening the leather throng keeping them together, she lets it fall away and grasps an arrow. Pulling it free, she listens or any other sound.

Nothing. Where are you? She sniffs at the air, searching her mind for any unfamiliar smells. I cannot think like this. Breathe, and relax. And stop doubting. She nocks her arrow, holding it low as she moves forward, her steps almost silent on the damp leaves that litter the ground as her eyes scan in every direction. She immerses herself between two trunks and pauses, listening. Her ears twitch as she concentrates, using all of her knowledge and skills. They twitch left as she hears a distinct crunch of something crushing a newly fallen leaf – too light – then they twitch right with the sound of rubbing bark and the slight split as it is ripped from the tree's trunk – that way – her head turns first, then her body follows, her arms taut still holding the bow ready.

"Snap!"

This time it comes from the same direction, she breathes in holding it, as her senses heighten to the point that her surroundings slow very slightly. But it is enough that she can see the leaves swaying in the slight breeze that runs through the grove, the noises from the various insects are doubled in volume, she can hear a distant stream as it drips through the ancient rounded stones in the rock bed. Even her vision clears and blurs at the same time as the spectrum of colour grows and becomes vast.

"Snap!"

Her eyes focus as the sound gets closer, this time almost within distance so that she can see them clearly. Freya tenses, waiting for the moment to come, she holds her breath as her body starts to sweat in the coolness of the air.

"Crunch, snap!"

They are closer than ever now. Freya begins to raise her bow, slowly pulling back the string getting tighter and tighter. Taking a deep breath, she fills her lungs holding it, her heart rate falling as she focuses on what is ahead. The bow coming in-line with her eyes, the string pulled back to her jaw, she stands ready to loose, to kill.

"Crunch!"

The sound comes from directly to her right, on the other side of a large oak drunk. She closes one eye, ready.

She releases her breath, dropping her bow and releasing the tension. A sandy coloured fawn steps around the corner stopping in front of her. It sniffs the air, suddenly aware of the strange scent surrounding it and it turns and bolts away.

"Damn deer," she sighs, relaxing her body not realising how uptight she actually was. Looking down she takes a deep breath with the scents of maple and oak caressing her senses, invading in through her nostrils. She smiles to herself, you are putting too much pressure on yourself. Relax and enjoy the surroundings.

"Crunch."

The sound further away than before, but her keen hearing picks it up clearly, it can't be the doe. She pulls herself from her thoughts, snapping her head up and looking straight ahead. Buried in amongst the northern treeline stands a figure she is unable to make out from this distance. She tries to focus her eyes.

"No." She whispers, as her eyes lock onto an arrow. One that is heading straight for her. She sees it flying through the air, unable to do anything, even as she hears the twang from the distant bowstring. Folknor.

She does not even flinch as it hits the mark. It lands on her cheek, slicing her from cheekbone to ear. She has no thought, her mind blank. She raises her bow, pulling back in the same instance, it all takes less than a second as it reaches her eye-line, string touches her jaw and she loosens with a twang reverberating in her mind. The gryphon-feather tipped arrow flies straight and true, it lands with a hearty smack, protruding from the figure's chest directly in the heart. She reaches for another arrow, nocks it, pulls and releases. It lands true again before the figure can even fall, sitting parallel with the first. The figure makes not a single sound as they slump to their knees, then topples forward lying still.

Freya breathes again, now only aware of the sudden pain that rushes forward sending her system into shock. She clamps a hand to her face attempting to stem the flow of blood that has started to run down her face.

Focus. Breathe. There could be more. She starts to shake with the realisation that they nearly had her, that they nearly succeeded. He is still following me. Hunting me. Her eyes dart left and right, searching for any other movement as her heart races and her breathing becomes laboured. Calm. She tries to without success. She reaches for her stomach – Calm! She shouts in her mind and finally takes a breath, in and out, in and out. Her heart rate starts to slow, the shakes begin to subside and her focus returns just enough so that she can sense her surroundings.

Scanning around she cannot sense anything close. "Right, fix this up and get moving." Kneeling she leans her bow against the nearest trunk and pulls out her knife, planting it in the soft ground. She pulls off her satchel placing it on the floor and rummaging through, she finds a bundle containing small pieces of cloth. She takes one then rummages for the other item she needs. "There you are," she says, pulling out some sticky leaf's. Setting them out on the ground she sets about wrapping her wound. Folding up the cloth she pushes it against her cheek turning it red instantly, she then pulls apart one of the stick leaf's and places one at either end of the cloth and two in the middle and presses down. It sends a gush of blood from underneath squirting out, but as she takes her hand away it holds. "Thank the Gods."

Putting everything away, she lifts her satchel and fixes it to her back once more, she picks up her bow and knife, then pulls out another arrow, nocking it. She listens again for any sounds but all she can hear is a few tweets from up high and a slow rush of water from a nearby stream. Confident she is alone she steps from cover readying her bow. Stepping slowly at first, her bow pointed at the ground, she moves towards the downed figure listening all the while.

Reaching the figure, she stands in front looking for any signs of life. I can't see who or what you are with that cloak covering you. Her eyes zoom in on the back looking for the slightest movement as she starts to circle around to its side. Nothing thank the Gods. She gives the still form a quick nudge with her foot – Nothing. Lowering her bow she replaces the arrow to her side and puts her bow over her head, the bowstring resting on her chest. Sliding her knife from its sheath, she moves it to her right hand as she squats down next to the figure. Reaching forward she carefully lifts its cloak from where she suspects the head to be.

The first thing she notices is the curled blonde locks of hair that have escaped from under her helmet, it flows down her back stopping at her waist. "By the look of your skin, you must be Aldredian. And a high class one to be sure," she says aloud looking at her smooth tanned face. "Well, you are a pretty one... were a pretty one. A shame really," she says scanning her immediate area again.

She kneels down beside the dead Aldredian and brushes back her golden locks, revealing raised cheekbones that highlight her almond-shaped eyes now staring out, dead and still. Stabbing her knife into the ground once more and gets both hands up under her and rolls her over onto her back. Moving her hands down to her side, she sees one arrow broken in half from the fall but the other intact, still protruding from her now oozing chest; the dark liquid already starting to congeal. "Gatan!" she swears. Bracing the body with one hand she pushes the intact arrow in further and through the Aldredian, pulling it from the other side once it sticks out enough. She wipes it off using the cloak then returns it to her quiver.

Freya then turns her full attention to the Aldredian, she inspects the clothes, all black, from head to foot, boots and all. She then pats her down wanting any clue, I need to be sure that He sent her. Nothing. Gatan! She stands and stretches up, then scans her surroundings again, a gentle breeze now flows through the grove obscuring the scents and any sounds she could pick up. She turns around using only her eyes and focuses, scanning each and every tree that she can, still nothing. They don't normally travel alone... unless.

She spins around facing the Aldredian once more, I wonder. She takes a step forward again then kneels, swiping more hair aside she reaches into the neck of her boiled leather jerking, feeling for... "Ah-ha," she blurts in triumph, pulling out a small pendant. She yanks it up, breaking the leather throng attached to the woman's neck. It snaps easily on her cold neck. "Right, let me have a look at you," she says holding the pendant up to the light. It is only small, an off-colour dirty yellow with a metallic sparkle. She sits it in her palm, studying it more closely, she closes one eye, pushing all of her focus on this task.

Holding it still, she studies the thin circular pendant; it has a pronounced profile around its edge and a raised emblem of a grand flame with a bleeding arrow sticking through the centre. "Assassin!" she hisses, clenching her fist, squeezing the pendant tightly into her palm. "He is still following me, even this far away." She throws the pendant down, "Damn him! Damn him to the deepest reaches of Valour." She looks up at the dark green sky and shouts, "You will not have me! I swear this by all that is good and just!"

Relaxing she breathes deeply, taking in the air, her body shaking in rage. Well, that was very ill-conceived, she chides herself. There could be more lurking about. "Gatan!" she hisses through clenched teeth. I need to be on the move, she thinks, her eyes scouting the immediate area for anything he can scavenge. Rummaging through the Aldredian's satchel she only finds a handful of crumbs from an old loaf and some soogberries half squashed from the fall. And she pulls out a small package wrapped up in a silk cloth. Untying the thin leather that binds it she flips over the cloth revealing another pendant attached to a delicate chain.

"Meena," she whispers, it is all she can manage as tears form at the edges of her eyes. She blinks, letting them fall and weeps for all to hear. Sniffing loudly to stop her nose running she holds the pendant tight to her chest as her body shivers and from the sudden emotions spilling from her.

"Oh, my sister," she sobs again. "What has he done to you?" She runs her hand across her face, wiping her eyes. Opening her hand, she turns the pendant over and reads the inscription there –

To my dearest Meena

All my love, your sister

Freya

Her blood starts to boil as she lets her anger in, consuming her, attempting to block out the pain of knowing she is the last now. She puts the chain over her head and tucks it into her linked jerkin, the bowstring keeping it tight. She scoops down grabbing her knife and returns it to its sheath, then sets out towards the stream she had heard gushing before.

She walks briskly, her ears alert for any signs. She must have been alone. She passes by oaks and spruce and a few elm trees too, touching them as she goes, taking in their aura. Walking along, the only thing she can think about is an image of Meena in her mind, imprinted there, burnt into her retina's, just hoping that she did not suffer, you know she did.

Stepping forward on instinct she finally reaches the tiny stream. It sits between two long rows of beech trees as if a protective barrier, it runs south deeper into Aldreda curving in and out of trees and bushes alike as she follows with an eye. Making her way down the small embankment she reaches the base and kneels down, the soft mud laps the side of her knees. Leaning forward, her hands dip into the clear water and she lifts and splashes her face, washing away the now dried blood that covers the left side of her face. She scoops up some more, splashing her face and then her neck, savouring the cool liquid as it runs down her back tempering her mood a little.

Reaching around to her waist, she unclips her flask filling it eagerly. She takes a hearty swig, refills it then screws the top back on, returning it to her waist. Freya stands once more staring at the sky just as the suns are setting and the day turns to night, the blood moon already in the sky. She undoes the clips holding the bottom of her linked jerkin and breathes deeply, finally relaxing. She gently runs a hand across her bulging stomach, caressing the skin and what lies beneath.

"I will keep you safe little one. And hopefully, you will be born into a better world. I hope..."