For a while, I simply stood in the rain like a moron, letting it soak me to the bone. I don't even know what I was waiting for or expecting, but once I woke up from my daze I moved under the shelter of the tree, that I dropped from, to keep dry. The rain was unrelenting but I knew it would pass like all hard, summer-like storms do, so I would wait it out before trying to find the others.

As I wait, climbing up the tree to get better coverage, I notice the pouch tied securely to my wrist which causes me to groan in exasperation. I let him get away, again, without giving him back his ring (I even exchanged a few words with him this time. One of them couldn't be "Hey, here's your stupid ring back"?).

Sighing, I attempt to squeeze as much water out of my hair as possible.

Some part of me wonders if the lake I jumped so carelessly in was harmful- my thoughts on the matter finally catching up. If it was, I hope it would wait till I figured out a new strategy on how to prevent Aelita from carrying out her plan before destroying me.

We can't destroy the stone without also destroying Xalale- which I'm sure wouldn't bother most, if not all, my friends, minus Clifford- and that's not a route I'm entirely comfortable on traveling. There has to be another option in discouraging Aelita from rounding up the pieces again. We might have to go back to Eniorad and start from scratch.

"Well this was a waste of time," I think bemoaningly.

The rain finally begins to subside some, allowing me to chamber down and survey the area, ready to head back to where I last saw the others. Hopefully, they stuck close by for easy tracking- I'd hate for us to be split up without any way of locating each other, especially in dire times like these.

Just as I begin walking towards the slope that I took a tumble down a person jumps out from behind a tree.

I nearly have a heart attack, stumbling backward in shock before my senses kick in.

Before me is the most non-threatening thing I could have expected: a little girl. She has a dusky complexion that's littered with light freckles. Though a little on the shabby side, she looks harmless, maybe a jokester judging from the way she jumped out to try and scare me. She holds out a stick as if it was a defensive weapon, cracking an impish smile as I get to my feet. She couldn't have been any older than nine, Clifford's age range for sure.

"You got me," I say in good humor. "Where did you even come from?"

I hadn't noticed a child roaming around, but then again my focus was more on Xalale than observing my surroundings, plus the rain didn't help. She also blends in nicely with the forest, dressed in mute, brown rags.

She merely smiles at me, swinging the stick at her side, a fairly happy child. It seems odd she would be out here in the rain all alone.

"What's your name?" I ask.

She closes her mouth and shakes her head as if she were mute; for all I know, maybe she is.

"Can you talk?"

This time, she nods affirmatively, making me believe even more that she's a little prankster, playing around in the woods away from supervision.

"So you can talk but you won't tell me your name? Or is it because I'm a stranger?" I know people in Edalirwen are just as skittish around strangers as people back at home.

She shrugs at this, her dimpled smile returning. She's kind of cute in her mischief, causing me to crack a smile as well- I need to smile after such a day.

"Alright," I begin, starting to pass her on my way to find the others. "I'm going to find my friends. You should run home before anyone realizes you're missing."

Just as she nods in understanding, I chuckle looking straight ahead when the familiar cold bite of metal is pressed against my neck from behind. All traces of pleasantness have vanished from my face as my mind processes what's occurring.

Absentmindedly, I grip the sword in my hand tighter but the gruff, snarling voice in my ear warns me from acting out.

"Hand over your sword."

"Just when I thought I was out of unfortunate's hands."

Obeying without question, I hold out my weapon without turning around to face my threatening assailant. The sword is snatched from my hand before I'm turned around and shoved to the ground only to be pulled to my feet again. When I stand up, I finally get to see the owner of the hostile voice.

He looks just as his voice portrays him. He's got skin that's course, bruises and scar tissue that populates his body from his face to his burly arms. He wears the same kind of raggedy, dull clothing the little girl is wearing- he sticks close by his side, a small but still visible grin on her face.

"She's disarmed," The rugged man yells.

Like a signal, four more camouflaged people step out from the shadows, appearing out of thin air practically. They all look rough around the edges, even the one female that I see wears an intimidating face. On top of that, they all look in tip-top shape, perfectly capable of tearing me in two in a game of tug-of-war.

I realize, just then, I've walked into a setup.

"Cause I really needed this in my life."

Best case scenario, they're just lost and this is their way of asking for directions, worse case scenario, they're serial killers that work in a group mentality.

The man who seized my sword, tosses it over to a younger looking male, who I'm assuming is the leader, keeping his menacing gaze on me- they all do, closing in on me like lions.

"Relinquish all valuables you have on you," He holds out his callous hand.

Here's to hoping they're just a band of thieves.

Swallowing to get some moisture in my mouth, I speak up meekly.

"I don't really have any valuables on me."

"I find that a lie from a person who has the king's sword in her possession," He counters.

"I stole it from him." That was the God's honest truth, no shaky voice there.

They all scoff at this.

"You are a poor liar," He remarks.

"No, really, I did."

"Enough," He barks, aggressively sticking out his hand once more. "Hand over your valuables or else risk losing more."

Slightly shaken, I pat myself down in an effort to look like I'm trying to find something to give over. Secretly, I want to swipe my sword back but it's too risky. I really don't have anything of value on me so I come up with nothing.

The man is growing impatient with me, I can sense it. He points to my wrist.

"Open it," He orders tersely.

Remembering the pouch on my wrist, I hastily open it. The only thing of value inside is Xalale's ring which I've neglected to give back. I pull it out slowly, hesitant in handing over such a possession. Maybe if I was heated- like I was the other night- I would have flung this at them the first time he'd asked for valuables (making the snide remark that nothing Xalale owned was of value), but after losing his sword to these brutes, I couldn't stand the thought of giving them the one thing that drove me on my mission forward.

Taking out the ring, I can tell they're all in admiration of it; the girl's eyes become like Clifford's does when he gets excited. The man looks at it like he's seen God Himself but I dub out that flame by enclosing the ring in my fist, reluctant to hand it over.

In response, he tosses me an evil glare, holding out his hand.

"The ring."

The others become agitated as well, shifting with ill intentions.

I keep my closed fist tight to my chest even as he angles the sword to my neck.

"I will not ask again."

"This isn't even my ring," I confess, taking a small step back.

"That's of no concern to us. Give it."

"I've really dug my grave with this one. Where's an ex machina when you need it?"

But no ex machina is coming and they're getting impatient.

Mentally, I release a sigh of defeat then gingerly uncurl my hands, dropping the gleaming ring into the dingy man's rough hand. Once I've given over the ring, they're not concerned about any other possible valuables on me- thankfully- and like a pack of wolves after the kill run off, melting into the forest as they scurrying away.

"Yeah," I breathe, staring at them fade from view in the steady drizzle. "I'm definitely not stopping for any more kids."

The rain is definitely lighting up, allowing me an easier time relocating my friends. I should be making my way back to the last place I saw them, but at this moment, that issue has taken a backseat to a new persistent idea taking form in my mind.

The only reason- be as horrible sounding as it may be- that I came back to Edalirwen was to give back that ring which would burn on my finger if I never tossed it back in the face of its pathetic owner. I am not about to let a ragtag group of thieving bums take away one of the main inspirations for keeping me here; I would be lost without that ring. My need for the perfect jab outweighs any instinct to find the others and tell them I'm okay- I'm not going to be without the ring in my possession.

So with a half-baked plan in mind, I hurry off in the direction they fled, my mind focus on one sole task: getting back that ring.

Since I'm not a bounty hunter or anything, I have to rely on my instincts and common sense to help me track down the intimidating band. They've traveled far but I don't lose hope as I make my way through the soggy forest.

The rain has stopped completely now, though dark clouds still hang in the sky.

"So no weapon, no backup, no organized plan, what are you going to do? Persuade them with your words?" My common sense argues against this rash action.

Despite the tight knot forming in my stomach, I press on, my determination stronger than my fear.

Perhaps I could use some of the forms of intimidation Xalale and Aelita display regularly; they both possess powerful abilities yet rarely have to exert them to get what they want- they merely use their presence. That's what I needed to do, I need to bring out that side of me that would frighten even seasoned military men.

I'm not feeling particularly powerful, though, as I emerge from the forest, looking like drowned rat, staring across a road at a tavern across the way. My money's on them gathering there, and the clustered, overlapping, fresh footprints in the mud back me up on that assumption.

Marching across the muddy road to the lit up tavern, I pause at the door, swallowing any fear left in me before closing any last chance of giving up and pushing open the door.

The tavern is just like the kind you'd envision fairytale legends, like Robin Hood, frequenting. There's a fire churning in the huge stone fireplace, but it's the atmosphere that gives the modest place its warmth. Travelers, of every kind, congregate around low, roughly crafted, wooden tables with chairs crowded 'round and liquor overflowing as bets are placed and bellowing laughter echoes. There are some murmurs from the ones concentrating on not losing their bet, rowdy claps and whistles from the occupants clearly past their limit, and then there's those, like the shifty group in the corner, that contain their chuckles to themselves.

Their heads are close together in cahoots with each other so I don't think they've noticed me yet. They just get served a pint of alcohol of some kind that they merrily partake of- even the little girl has a cup of the stuff!

They're so absorbed in their private celebration that I'm standing right behind them before their leader notices me standing there, hands on my hips with a fixed look on my face. His sudden scowl almost scares away the bravado in me, but I stand firm even as they all turn their malicious glares to me.

I notice the ring on the leader's pinkie finger- an impressive trophy.

"I want my stuff back," I'm actually surprised at how curt my voice comes out to be.

For a tough group like them, though, it's nothing to wince at.

"You're not a bright one," He spits in disdain. "We'll give you one last chance to back down before we make you sorry for disturbing us."

"I'm not asking."

Damn, apparently being around people like Xalale and Aelita has given me some bite to my bark, that and I'm not fond of others taking what I have (or stolen).

Standing to his feet, his whole band follows in his lead, pressing down on me with intimidating effect, but I merely take a step back, keeping my steeling glare on their leader. By now, a hush as settled over the tavern, the servers and travelers are staring in our direction, the warmth dispersing as a tense edge replaces it.

"Why don't you face me like a real man with balls instead of hiding behind a cheap sword and a little decoy?" I challenge, rankling him. "Give me a fair fight and maybe then we'll decide who keeps what."

It's almost like a showdown in middle school where you challenge the top kid in your class to a skirmish after the bell rings, except no one here- patrons or servers alike- are going to break up this brawl- it's a no hold back duel.

So far, my nerves are holding out on me but I have to hurry this up if I'm not to back down.

"How about a sword fight? Winner takes all. I best you, you return my valuables. You best me, you keep my things. Deal?"

They exchange looks with each other, all of them sharing a twisted smile of amusement at this offer- even some of the drunker occupants of the tavern chuckle in disbelief at the sound of this. To be fair, they have every right to laugh at this outrageous challenge. I can't sword fight properly, not like Xalale or Coxen, but I have to get that ring and sword back somehow. If I die in the process at least I tried (which won't feel good at the end of the day so why bother trying to console myself?)

"Deal," He sneers.

We head to the middle of the room where there's an open space, as if just for these types of disputes. The man unsheathes his own sword but tosses it to me instead, which I fail to catch resulting in a few more heckles. I'm confused for a second why he would be handing me his sword before realizing, with my heart in my throat, that he plans on using Xalale's imposing sword. Already I'm at a disadvantage.

When I stated the man's sword was cheap, I meant it wholeheartedly. It's just long enough to be deemed a sword, but an inch or two shorter it could be perceived as a dagger. The hilt is made of smoothed down, weather-worn wood and the metal has lost all its luster- even a butter knife could inflict some actual damaged compared to this.

"Welp, guess who's going down swinging."

Instead of pointing out this unfair advantage, I allow him to sport Xalale's sword while I handle his meager one.

Everybody's attention is honed into this soon-to-be pathetic duel. I know the only way I'll survive this is to outsmart him, but that will be difficult seeing how I'm not the most clever fighter.

We glare at each other, a silent commencement to our fight. My war face is definitely more intimidating than my actions but that doesn't matter, I need to fake it till I make it.

He, with his striking sword, goes in for a jab first, narrowly hitting me on the side which would have proven to be a bloodbath. The only thing I have going for me is my reflexes, which, if that's the only thing keeping me from the doorstep of Death, I better start saying my prayers now.

We do a dance of swipe and avoid- him the aggressor and me the practically defenseless dancer hopping around the space. At first, making me dance around his blade amuses him and his buddies, but my act starts to wear thin on them and he gradually becomes more insistent about wanting to hack away at me.

I'm doing a fairly good job, all things considered, staying out of the way of the blade, but I know my luck is beginning to expire when he makes contact with my shoulder, creating a thin cut that tears my dress and reveals a string of tiny beads of crimson.

Clutching my shoulder for a brief second, I refocus on him quick enough to deflect his next blow.

My first strike sends a hushed ripple of shock through the immersed spectators- it's brief, but it does offer me some much-needed confidence.

He makes another bold move for my torso as if trying to slice me in two. I block him again, my eyes never leaving the hand holding his weapon, watching where it might strike next.

He's growing agitated with me. Working that jaw muscle, he clenches until his vein begins to throb on his forehead like a writhing snake.

We start circling each other. While he's probably staring me down like feral predator thinking how he can devour me, I'm more focused on how to get out of this without any further harm coming to me.

He must be getting tired of thinking so he resorts to taunting.

"Afraid to serve the first move, girl?"

I keep silent, still in thought over how to trick him.

"You are the vainest, foolish, coward of a girl I've ever met," He barks a sharp, brief laugh.

I let his words bounce off me like rubber (I've heard worse from the kids in elementary school).

All the time we've been circling each other, I've been searching for a weak spot where I might strike him- someplace vulnerable that he wouldn't expect. I've found it but I have to be quick, giving myself an open opportunity.

That opportunity comes in a split second but I'm prepared.

Going for an open jab, he goes for my stomach again. To avoid getting struck, I dive for his lower parts, the disturbing feeling of a blade penetrating the tender skin. I don't hit my exact mark but I'm pretty damn close.

While he howls out in pain, I take too long trying to reclaim the sword lodged between his legs. Even in his distorting pain, he takes the opportunity to swing at me. I do manage to fall back before serious damage is done, but I don't come out unscathed. A trail of oozing blood dribbles down the side of my neck- it isn't deep but I feel the sting.

With the sword still sticking out of his crotch, he goes to yank it out. I then make the rash decision to attempt to snatch Xalale's sword out of his hand while he's distracted. My quick thinking earns me the victory of reclaiming my sword from his grasp.

Everyone has gotten to their feet, staring at this unpredictable comeback from the underdog.

My heart is racing like it's hooked on caffeine as I have to stay ahead of him.

"Still need that ring," It gleams on his finger like a reminder not to leave it behind.

He's finally pulled out the now bloody sword from his groin, his rage overpowering any crippling pain that might have resulted from his injury. He spews all sorts of vulgar terminology at me that gets my blood to its boiling point.

Forgetting the organized structure of a duel, he begins to swing at me like a madman, hoping one of his crazed blows will get me. The blood on his sword flings off in droplets as he swings it about wildly.

Thinking fast, I hop up on one of the empty tables. He scrambles to join me on it, still thrashing about, his beet red face glistening with sweat as the serpent in his forehead is now a boa.

Adrenaline pumping, senses sharpened, and instincts on overdrive, I simply act without thought, jumping over to the neighboring table close by where he promptly follows. Table to table we hop, around in a circle until I stand with my back to the crackling fire and my weapon pointed at the unraveled, disheveled brute before me.

He jabs at me but I evade it by jumping to the left. He tries again with more vigor but I jump back to the right. Finally, he tries once more, going for my chest, but this time I send my sharp blade straight through his arm.

His wails were animalistic, chilling screams of anguish. I would match that as well if I were just impaled through the arm.

As he drops his sword, I swoop it up without hesitation, pointing both weapons at his neck as he kneels to the floor before me.

People are speechless after watching the battle unfold- to be honest, I am too. This was almost a David and Goliath spectacle here.

"I win," Though my breathing is a bit heavy, it adds to the overall edgy appearance I wish to obtain. "Now give me back my ring."

Out of the corner of my eye, I can see his posse isn't pleased with this humiliating outcome, but they know a fair fight when they see it and hold back.

From his curled up position on the ground, I think I'm going to have to repeat myself, but I see him work the ring off his finger. I stretch out to retrieve it, but in a blink of an eye, he tosses it into the fire behind me.

My heart takes a leap of fear into my throat as I scramble to fish it out with the tip of my sword. At first, I almost reach in with my bare hand but remember my limitations. Thankfully, I'm able to finesse it out in a reasonably fast manner, leaving it to cool on the ground first. Like a fool, though, the man sees this as his opportunity to swipe it back, but even before he can burn himself on it, the tip of my blade nails his hand to the floor before his fingers can grasp it.

The tip of my blade also happens to be hot, causing him to scream to the high heavens as a tinging noise mixes in. Startled, I pull back my sword, allowing him to cradle his wounded hand.

He curls into a fetal position, comforting himself against the pain of it all. Honestly, I wasn't aiming to injure him this badly, but I can't say I feel sorry for him. Maybe this'll teach him and others like him not to mess with me.

The ring is still warm in my hand but not scalding hot like it was before. I slip it back into my pouch then, after a second of thought, toss his puny sword into the greedy flames where it belongs.

"See, why can't I have these sort of mic drops whenever Xalale is around?"

Without saying a word, I make my way to the door of the tavern, stepping over the sniveling man and barely glancing in the direction of his crew who sit back, sending daggers my way with their eyes.

I feel like I'm an unstoppable force as I pause at the doors then exit the place, my head held high and my confidence restored.