I hold my breath, cursing myself to keep still. I can't believe I've gotten myself into this mess. I'm acting like a newborn in these woods! I've been here nearly the longest of anyone, how could I have been so foolish?

The group below me, they are men, I think, what's left of them anyhow. I wouldn't be concerned, except I know one of them. Gondric. He is a master of poisons. One hit from him and I'm dead, no matter how hard my elf blood resists.

This is a test. Do I wait it out or do I make a run for it? This tree is strong, but my legs are tense and I don't know how much longer I can go without shifting my weight.

Damnit. If Gondric wasn't there, I'd just kill them. But between him, the archer, and the swordmaster, I don't like my chances much.

I breathe in softly and close my eyes, leaning my head close to the tree.

It's me or them.

Please, if there's a spirit left buried in this forest, please hear me. May my feet be swift on your branches and not disturb a leaf on your arms. Please, give me strength that I may pass across you in silence.

I intake softly, sending a prayer up to the blue moon above me, checking that each of my knives are safe, holding my sword close in its holster, and then I take a hesitant step across the branch, leaving the safety of the dense leaves.

The wood creaks beneath me, and I curse, biting my lip harshly and turning to see all 3 men staring directly at me.

"Hello boys" I say, forcing a smirk and then jumping across to another tree, avoiding an arrow by a hair.

"What, don't like the company? Now, where's your hospitality?" I ask sarcastically, throwing a knife quickly, watching as it embeds itself into the archers neck, sending him dropping to the ground like dead weight.

"Well well well, I'm feeling rather unwelcome here" I pout, glaring at Gondric, who has yet to move.

I duck behind a branch, narrowly missing the dagger that was no doubt covered in some treacherous poison.

I scowl to myself, what have I gotten into? If I die by the hands of men, I will be so disappointed in myself I'll probably haunt my own grave just to torture myself.

No time to think, it's go time. Kill or die, it's simple. I refuse to die. And I'm pretty damn good at killing.

I drop to the ground easily, throwing out a knife at Gondric, who avoids it easily.

He smirks, and I watch it pass by his shoulder. But shouldn't he expect more of me? Surely he's heard of me, just as I've heard of him.

I'm not that bad of a shot.

I whistle softly, jerking a finger towards my chest, and Gondric sees, too late, the thin, creamy white line going from my hand to the knife.

Spiders silk. Never noticed until it's already too late.

The knife lodges itself in Gondric's head, and he stares at me in shock before faceplanting to the ground.

But I'm being too cocky, and I nearly don't notice the swordmaster to my left, just barely jumping back in time to avoid his sword cutting me in half.

I smirk and toss a knife in my hand, sending it into his foot before he can blink.

I can hear him grunt, but he says nothing, he just lurches at me.

I meet his blade with mine, cringing when the metal crashes against metal, echoing through the woods.

Half the prisoners will've heard that by now. And I don't want to imagine what else will be coming towards the noise....

Let's make this quick then.

I send my sword towards his head, letting him delude himself into thinking I was attacking, and when he easily brought his sword up to block mine, I thrust my left arm into his chest, lodging my hidden knife in his heart.

When I'm satisfied he's dead, I pull my arm away and let him drop to the ground.

I slowly walk to the bodies and pull the daggers from them, cleaning the blood off on my leggings and putting them back in their respective places.

I approach Gondric slowly, admittedly terrified. If he were to come close to me, get even one drop of poison in my blood, then I would die. Slow or fast, either way I would die.

I lean down and pull the knife from his head, wiping his blood on his parka, not wanting to risk having it near me.

All of a sudden his arm jerks out, a dagger in his hand. I throw my knife down hard on his head, cracking his skull.

I step back and leave the knife, not wanting to risk it again.

Only then do I notice something. Thin beads of blood gathering at my ankle.

He cut me.