*Kora*

Thock. Thock. Thock. Sweat streamed down my brow as my axe hit the tree one last time. I heard the satisfying crash as it hit the forest floor, and set down the axe, stretching. It had been chopping down that damn tree all morning. Aro said it was to 'build muscles' but I just think that he wants to get me out of his hair for a while.

Well jokes on him, because I had finished earlier than normal. I made my way towards the tent where Aro slept, and poked my head in. "It's done!" I said, my tail raised high in the air and curled like a question mark. My guardian looks up at me and sighs. "I figured." He says, shaking his head. I grin, knowing what his next words are. "You give me more grey hair than old age." He says, and I deepen my voice to match his. At this, he chuckles. "I suppose that line's getting old." Aro smiles at me fondly.

"Like you?" I taunt, laughter on the edge of my voice. "You little- '' He gets up, his last words in elven, and I shriek in laughter as I bolt across the camp. There's no way I'm out running Aro, nobody can. He may be a bit old but he's still the best assassin around. But I can still hold out on him for a long time, and I can move as silently as a cat when I want to. I dart into the woods, darting behind a couple trees and making fake trails, then climb a tree and sit there.

Aro's like the father I never had. He's the organizer of the current assassin camp that I live in, and has been for as long as I can remember. He found me near the Cathail tribe's camp, in the snow, and the verge of death. I lost my pinky from frostbite that day, and I now only have nine fingers. I'm also what people call a 'freak of nature.' Not to my face, but I still hear it from the other people at the camp, and I also see the looks some of them throw at me. I don't let it get to me though. I'll show them all I can be a better assassin then them.

I'm a Dyekin, a mix of human and Phoral. The Phoral are humanoid animals that are as smart as humans, maybe smarter. Sorenia, the Kingdom that I'm technically a citizen of, is native to only one: the Cathail. They are snow-leopard Phoral, which I am half of. I'm half human and half Cathail. I look like a regular human: I have tan skin instead of fur, although the hair on my arms is a bit thicker than the average human, and hair on my head. I do not have a muzzle, I have a human nose and mouth. Only difference is that I have cat-like eyes, which are still brown, and ears and a tail to match. The ears are black, and my tail is a standard grey. And how I despise them. I despise the cat-like features, they are the only things preventing me from not getting dirty looks. I also despise my mother, who I remember clear as day. I hate her, and I hate everyone who hates me just because of my species.

Whoops, I need to keep my anger in check. Aro says it always gets the better of me. I take a couple breaths, and think of happy and fun memories of me and Aro, as well as counting to ten, when I hear the sound of a horse panting.

I look up curiously, wondering why there is a horse in the woods, before scrambling down the tree trunk and darting across the forest floor, keeping quiet. I soon spot the culprit of the noise; a white horse, or now a pale brown one, and an exhausted looking elf on its back. I smell the air, looking the elf over. I've seen elves before, we had plenty back at camp, but they've never talked to me at all, and this is my first encounter with someone outside of the camp.

It seems to be my age, which makes my heart lift a bit, before dropping. The elf is wearing clothes that clearly look expensive. Noble. I'll point them the right direction, then be on my merry way. I think with disgust, lightly grasping my dagger in case anything goes south. Aro had taught me how to use it a couple years back, and I have since never went anywhere without it.

I step out of the bushes, and the elf's head shoots straight up.

*IRA*

When I hear the rustle of the bushes, three emotions rush through me; fear, defiance, and hatred. If this was father's people, then I'll go down fighting. What surprises me is when a girl, maybe about my age, steps out. She had tanned skin, with freckles over her cheeks and nose, with honey brown eyes and chocolate brown hair. Their hair is overgrown and tangled, much to my disgust, and they have cuts and bruises all over. They're wearing a sleeveless top, and pants cut off at the knees, along with odd looking shoes. One thing that catches my eyes, whoever, is how they have cat ears and tails, like a Cathail, but looks so human. Then it clicks.

Their Dyekin. So my father didn't send them after me, he wouldn't send someone so below him. That's a relief, although I think I have other problems to worry about, judging by the way they're looking at me. "The way out of the forest in the way you came, pointy ears." They say, nodding back to the path. "Now get out of the woods."

This annoys me to no end. "Get out? Why should I? These aren't your woods. Your kind couldn't even buy a house if they tried." I snap, surprised that she would dare talk to me like that. Her ears flatten slightly, and her tail tip is twitching. "I wasn't saying their mine, you know." They respond with a snarl. Hit a nerve, I see. I think with some satisfaction. "Listen, just point me in the direction of the assassins camp, and I might not put your head on a chopping block." I say, hoping that they'll lead me to it. "Then take my horse to the stables and draw a nice hot bath for me when we get there, sound nice?" They stare at me for a few seconds, then begin laughing. Tears are coming from their eyes, and they're struggling to keep their balance. "T-that's the funniest thing I've h-heard all day." They say, wiping away the tears. I stare at them for a few moments, confused. Then it clicks again. We're in the woods. Where's a bath gonna be? I feel my face grow hot with embarrassment and rage.

"Listen, where is the camp?" I practically shout, when another figure comes out of the woods. I tense up, this is a man, with raven black hair and dark brown skin. He could easily be one of Father's men, he looks the part.

He looked down to the Dyekin standing next to him curiously. "Who's this?" He asked, and sighed when it shrugged. "They wanted to know where the camp was." It said, looking up at the man. "I said no, and they threw a fit." I tense up at the words that it spat from it's foul mouth, and get off my horse. "Listen here you half-breed." I spit out the insult, and both look at me in surprise as I unsheathe my sword. It was made by the dwarves, standard iron crafted to perfection with a gold hilt. Some of the guards had taught me to use it, and I was good at wielding the blade. I swung, only to be met with a clang of metal against metal. I avert my eyes to the Dyekin, and see it's holding up a dagger. In one swift movement that I couldn't track with my eyes, it kicks me the stomach, sending me sprawling, grabbing the hilt at the guard and pulling it away from me. I land on my butt on the ground, and stare up in shock at the now very furious Dyekin and man. "All yours, Aro." The Dyekin says, handing him the sword. I watch in horror as the newly named Aro raises the sword and brings it down on my head. The forest goes black.