He had been right. They either saw him leave and decided not to follow or they had lost him in the crowd and didn't know how to find him. Either way, he was safe, and they would figure out that he wasn't in New Byrne by tomorrow. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, putting his hands on his knees as he leaned forward slightly. Everything that had happened caught up on him, and he suddenly felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn't believe his partner had betrayed him. They had never been close, but they had been partners since they became apprentices! Three whole years of running around the streets, completing contracts, watching each others backs so they could get the money, splitting it up and taking the group's share to the leaders!

He should've known not to trust him, to not let him take his share and the group's share himself. He should've known that he'd be keeping the company's stack of coins! Then when he'd get caught, like a snake he had a backup plan. And what was that? Cerra. He had put at least a hundred coins in his box of coins to make it look like he had been stealing from them for months, and to the BladeDancers, that had been enough evidence. Now here he was, run out of his home, while his partner was getting off scot-free with a few extra coins in his pocket. Cerra had never stolen so much as a penny from the BladeDancers. Doing so would mean death, or exile if you got away. And it seemed like, for Cerra, it was an exile.

He had only been a couple of months away from completing his apprenticeship. He would've gotten his second dagger and then he wouldn't have needed his partner anymore. He would've been getting more contracts that paid a lot more. He wouldn't have been stuck with tracking down estranged spouses or killing those that had ticked off the wrong person. He gritted his teeth before he looked around the area he was in, shoving his hands into the pockets of his white sweatshirt. He kicked a small dirt mound beside him with his beat-up red sneakers, before he began to walk. He didn't know a lot about the area outside of New Byrne City, considering the last day he had spent in school has been third grade, but he knew there had to be civilization nearby. A city, a town; even a village would do. He could get some kind of job, save up enough money to...

To do what? He couldn't go back home. He wouldn't be able to send anyone he knew anything without threatening to give away his position. The BladeDancers would be on his head and he'd be dead, with his body abandoned in a ditch. That happened all of the time, if not every day. Cerra himself had done it a few times. There wasn't time to have morals when you hadn't eaten in a few days. Cerra didn't like being on this end of the blade, though. He sighed before he pulled out his dagger, looking down at the blade. The handle was a light green, shimmering in the moonlight that fell down through the trees. The blade was sharp and clean, as he had sharpened it just this morning. He took very good care of his dagger, even if it meant cleaning blood off of it for hours. He gritted his teeth and looked forward as he remembered his second dagger.

It was customary for BladeDancer apprentices to learn how to fight with one dagger during their apprenticeship, and then once they became of age they would get their second dagger. It would look just like their first dagger, and if they were a true BladeDancer, they'd be able to adjust to two daggers pretty easily. Though, it was hardly a secret that many had private lessons from their mentor to adjust. It wasn't easy, but there were a few that made the transition smoothly. Cerra could've been one of those people, but now the only fate his second dagger had was the trash compactor. His heart throbbed at the idea of that happening to the beautiful blade, and he growled. His heart told him he couldn't let it happen, while his mind told him he had no chance of stopping it.

But Cerra didn't get to think much more about it, because he suddenly felt eyes on him. His grip tightened on his dagger as he stopped, realizing that he had made such a horrible mistake. What was he thinking, letting his guard drop when he was in an unfamiliar place? But it was already too late because he felt the familiar, cold tip of a sword pressing lightly against the back of his neck.

"Don't move." A voice growled.

"What's a human like you doing in Quidill territory, hm?" Another voice sneered, and Cerra gritted his teeth as he quickly took in the situation. He was outnumbered, two to one, with his ambushers not even an arm length behind him. Not to mention, they weren't human. They were Quidills, and that was just his luck. He stared forward as his mind buzzed, trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this alive.

"What do we do with him?"
"I say we kill him."
"Nah, nah. We should take him back to the base, see what the torturers will get out of him. No one ever wanders this way, there's gotta be a reason for why he's here."

Cerra gritted his teeth before he finally decided that he was just gonna have to do what he did best. He decided to wing it.

He turned quickly and grabbed the sword by the blade, ignoring the way it bit into his hand. Scarlet blood ran down the underside of his arm as he ripped it out of the Quidill's hand, flinging it to the side before he kicked them in the gut. While they staggered back, he turned his attention to the other one. He spun his dagger and ducked underneath the sword that tried to take off his head, and as he stood up he plunged his dagger into their stomach in one fluid motion. They let out a loud cough of shock and Cerra tried not to think about the cold and slimy black blood splattering onto the ground and his shoes as he yanked his dagger out. Before he could think about it, he turned and sprinted further into the forest. As he did he heard the Quidill he hadn't stabbed screaming for help.

He cursed as he realized that no one sent a two-person patrol and that he was going to have a much bigger problem on his hand. Why couldn't he get a break?! Everywhere he went trouble liked to follow, even outside of New Byrne! He ran as fast as he could, but he knew he couldn't for long. He didn't know the area here and the last thing he needed was to run right into a Quidill base. He looked around the forest he was in. The trees towered over him and the moon gave him such little light. He couldn't make out anything. A bush could be an animal and he'd be none the wiser.

Then he did see something. There was a glimmer that reminded him of the way the sun reflected off his clean blade. For a heart-stopping he thought someone was about to leap out, banishing a sword, but he came to a stop anyway. When nothing happened he shoved the leaves of the bush aside and found something he hadn't expected to find out here. A trap door. He looked around and wondered if this was a good idea. It could lead to a Quidill base for all he knew. But then he decided that he really didn't have any choice. He grabbed the handle of the trapdoor which was as cold as ice, and with a creek much too loud for his ears he pulled it open. The only thing under the hatch was darkness. He crouched down, gasping for breath when he heard shouting behind him. That Quidill was catching up and he had gotten reinforcements. He looked back and swallowed before he looked back down at the hatch.

"Oh god," he muttered, "I'm going to die."

Then he leaped down.