"I refuse," Isla rebuked while concealing her internal debate.

The last coward of three released a growl, the sound reverberating in his throat. "Ye don't care if this dirty brat dies because of ye?"

"I don't know him. Why should I care?" Her free hand dropped to her hip.

"Don't lie tae me girlie, we saw ye talkin' tae him," the man voiced, shaking his fist at her.

"And your point?" Isla smirked. "At least I'm not the one using an outsider as a shield. A child no less. Are you that scared of a mere girl?"

"Shut ye damn mouth, we ain't scared!" The largest man yelled.

Her eyes remained latched onto their subtle movements, watching and waiting. She stiffened her frame, quieting her emotions and thoughts. "If you aren't scared then fight like men. Don't hide behind the boy."

Leef's short and stocky keeper loosened his grip on the boy's shoulders, one hand free.

"Hold ontae the brat, ye fool," the instigator roared as he slapped his head. "Ye tricks won't work, wench."

At his declaration, the wooden door crashed open. Thin rock spikes shot from the hallway, piercing the large brute's back. His eyes bulged and a throaty howl blasted their ears. One second more, and he collapsed, his body without life.

The shot-callers mouth hung loose. "What the..." He spun his body along with Leef's captor, seeking the source.

A blazing palm-sized flame walked towards them, the edges flickering. As the distance disappeared, the fire outlined Rydin's form. Another step closer, and his details became clear. His carefree and awkward attitude from earlier had disappeared. His hooded eyes lost their delicate green, instead, they sharpened to steel. The youthful face accompanied a dark scowl, both changes directed upon Leef's captor.

"Demons Hell. Magic," the ringleader stated. The word stroked his fears, his body trembling against his control.

With Rydin's distraction, Isla threw a knife, nailing Leef's holder. The blade punctured his lung, weakening his grip.

Leef squirmed before breaking free, running to Rydin for protection.

The still-standing man wheezed, blood leaking from his lips. He grasped his chest, his breathing escalating as his legs folded. Tear streams met his life-blood, the two mixing before they joined the earth. A final cough and the man's face followed the liquid descent.

She lowered her stance, charging the last pursuers blindspot. Her hand pressed the second knife against his throat.

"Ma'am, I mean ye no harm, I can leave ye. Ye don' ha'e to kill me," he pleaded with perspiration coating his brow.

She reached around, drawing his sheathed weapon. "Arms up. Start walking," she commanded while pointing the drawn sword away from the house.

A droplet of sweat rolled down his face and his wide eyes remained pinned to the knife. "Got ye," he voiced, raising his shaking arms upwards and walking forward.

"Leef. Inside," Rydin ordered behind her, the door slamming. He caught her tail, his voice breaking their silent trek. "What will you do with him?"

"Go back. I'll handle him."

"No. I'll come."

Isla remained attentive, sparing him no glance. She controlled her enemy's chain, maintaining her distance. "Coming won't change anything."

"Probably not, but it doesn't matter."

The cowardly brute slowed, the river three steps ahead. "Where now?"

"Stop," she instructed, her voice accompanied by the river's steady tune. Isla walked around him and lowered the knife. Swapping the sword to her dominant hand, she raised the weapon.

"What ye plan tae do-"

The man's words ended as Isla struck him. He wailed, floundering at the blade gouging his stomach. His frenzied gaze lost focus and he teetered, his weight shifting.

Isla twisted and removed the blade, kicking him and his outstretched hands. He fell backward, writhing a moment more before his final rest claimed him.

"Satisfied?"

Rydin remained transfixed, but composure donned his face. He swallowed, his gaze transferring to her. "Yeah."

She switched her focus to the corpse. With her foot, she flattened him out and searched his pockets. Her hands patted his cloak and the black undershirt.

He had nothing fancy. A leather bag containing a poor man's earnings. Add the sheath for his weapon, and the spoils were lacking. She sighed. Well, better than her death.

"Something wrong?" Rydin asked.

"He was poor."

Rydin scratched his brow. "Detra isn't exactly rich. Well, maybe the nobles in Lutenberg. But why would they get their hands dirty? Unless you pissed off one of them? Wait, did you?"

Isla frowned, sheathing the blade and depositing both items on land. "No, not exactly."

"Then who?"

"It doesn't matter," she growled.

"Fine, fine. I'm just trying to help."

She rolled her eyes, returning her attention to the dead. Perhaps due to vengeance this time, but with the fresh bounty, these men wouldn't be the last. Leaving their rotten carcasses front and center would only proclaim her direction, they had to clean-up. Plus, who wanted to present the roaming Demons a feast. No thank you.

"Want to help?" Isla questioned.

Rydin pocketed his hands, staring. "Sure. What do you need?"

"Dig a hole with your magic. We'll need to lay the dead to rest."

"Okay, where at?" He turned around, checking the landscape.

"Near that clump of trees. The ground should be better." She pointed in the direction she mentioned.

Rydin moved towards the specified location and squatted. He laid both hands upon the bare covered earth, falling silent. The ground before him shook, small tremors traveling from the epicenter to her. Gradually, the area depressed and the vibrations ended.

"This good?" Rydin stood, wiping his hands clean. "Not too muddy."

"Yeah, looks good. Let's move him."

They each grabbed a side of the deceased. With his heavyweight, his waist dragged through the muck. As they reached the pit, they heaved the man over, dropping him.

"Two more to go."

"Right..." he groaned, following her lead.

"We can always leave them. I'm sure no one will ask questions."

"Yeah, let's leave them. I've always wanted to be jailed and hanged for murder."

"Specifics," she declared then changed her tone. "Don't worry. I'll leave tomorrow. If anyone asks questions, just blame me."

He caught her lead, joining her stride. "Are you sure?"

She glanced his way. "Yes. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Hmm. I just figured you could use some rest."

Isla avoided acknowledging his statement, instead, her gaze landed upon the dead. "Pick one."

"I'll be nice and take the heavy one."

She snorted. "That's your reasoning?"

"No comment," he mumbled, his jaw flexing. He crouched, grabbing the man's feet then stood. "How do you handle this?"

Isla snatched her responsibility by the arms, dragging him forward. "Handle what?"

"You know, the feeling of having killed." He questioned from behind.

"They aren't exactly innocent."

"But what if they were?"