muscled shoulder at One Eye who rolled to his feet, gave a vigorous shake, and trotted up to join both Strongheart and Littlefoot. We go to hunt. You must decide what is best.
“What I do I must do alone,” Tanith returned softly. “It is my way, I will not be responsible for another.”
Strongheart gave a wolf-like shrug, tossing his head. Perhaps he feels the same.
Tanith grinned, hands busily at work on more arrows for her bow while she met Strongheart’s steady gaze. “Then he is a moon-blessed fool.”
No doubt you are right. Strongheart agreed and trotted off down the trail, which was considerably steeper since the devastating storm, One Eye on his heels.
Littlefoot came over to give Tanith a playful nudge and sympathetic whine before following the other two out and past the exercising bounty hunter.
Ankle deep in the lush grasses below the cave, Raptor saw the wolves depart. He knew the pattern. They were off to hunt. This time, Tanith was not accompanying them. Sometimes she did and other times she did not.
He kept moving. Slowly, forcing fluidity, though his body felt battered and much older than his thirty solar years. For a bounty hunter such as he, with a reputation such as his, stiffening injuries were the worst risk and his back still felt like an old piece of leather left out in sun and rain. Nonetheless, sweat and control were smoothing his movements, returning strength to his limbs. Color moved in his face with the strain and he was grateful Tanith was far enough away that she would not be able to see it. He did have his pride even if not his full strength.
Stiffness. Pain. Old skin cracking. New skin coming through, pink and shiny. Though Raptor could not see the wounds on his back he knew well the slick, pink appearance of wounds healing. The thought strayed into his mind that he might be approaching an age where it would be wisest to settle down as he had planned from the beginning of his notorious career. Though few knew it, he was a wealthy man.
He moved a little faster, then drew back, put strength into the movement, felt the pain recede, the movement flow more smoothly. With renewed consideration he decided time yet remained to him before he would seek retirement. And, he suspected such time spent with Tanith would be lively indeed.
Raptor considered the female Janissary he had been sent to replace. He had been fascinated by the documentation of her life and accomplishments as well as her mission. Fascinated even when he had believed her dead as had the Circle of Nine. Now, the word fascinated did not begin to cover his feelings. She had come back from the dead to save the life of the man sent to replace her. Raptor found it poetic, if in a backhanded way. And, though Tanith so easily brushed it aside, she would have her payment for the blood debt he owed. Raptor would have it no other way. A man who cherished life, despite outward appearances, Raptor always paid his debts. Paying this one, he thought as he moved through the limbering exercises, would prove no great burden. She was good, but she did not have the Amulet yet. She was brave, and well-accompanied by the pack—but many were the times when the pack was not near. He was not willing to give up his prize—the bounty on the amulet, which was considerable—in order to repay Tanith, but no doubt in a place such as Nashira, there would be other opportunities.
He found her to be hard as tanned leather and sleek as moonlight. A contradiction and a Janissary. Many women were Janissaries, some of them with reputations rivaling his own. But that type had never appealed to Raptor. He liked his women soft, feminine and preferably willing.
Even so, it was less peculiar for Tanith to have chosen the path she did in Raptor’s opinion, as he knew her background; knew what it was that had driven her to this choice. He had to admire her strength. Both, that she received the necessary training and that she had channeled it in the direction
“What I do I must do alone,” Tanith returned softly. “It is my way, I will not be responsible for another.”
Strongheart gave a wolf-like shrug, tossing his head. Perhaps he feels the same.
Tanith grinned, hands busily at work on more arrows for her bow while she met Strongheart’s steady gaze. “Then he is a moon-blessed fool.”
No doubt you are right. Strongheart agreed and trotted off down the trail, which was considerably steeper since the devastating storm, One Eye on his heels.
Littlefoot came over to give Tanith a playful nudge and sympathetic whine before following the other two out and past the exercising bounty hunter.
Ankle deep in the lush grasses below the cave, Raptor saw the wolves depart. He knew the pattern. They were off to hunt. This time, Tanith was not accompanying them. Sometimes she did and other times she did not.
He kept moving. Slowly, forcing fluidity, though his body felt battered and much older than his thirty solar years. For a bounty hunter such as he, with a reputation such as his, stiffening injuries were the worst risk and his back still felt like an old piece of leather left out in sun and rain. Nonetheless, sweat and control were smoothing his movements, returning strength to his limbs. Color moved in his face with the strain and he was grateful Tanith was far enough away that she would not be able to see it. He did have his pride even if not his full strength.
Stiffness. Pain. Old skin cracking. New skin coming through, pink and shiny. Though Raptor could not see the wounds on his back he knew well the slick, pink appearance of wounds healing. The thought strayed into his mind that he might be approaching an age where it would be wisest to settle down as he had planned from the beginning of his notorious career. Though few knew it, he was a wealthy man.
He moved a little faster, then drew back, put strength into the movement, felt the pain recede, the movement flow more smoothly. With renewed consideration he decided time yet remained to him before he would seek retirement. And, he suspected such time spent with Tanith would be lively indeed.
Raptor considered the female Janissary he had been sent to replace. He had been fascinated by the documentation of her life and accomplishments as well as her mission. Fascinated even when he had believed her dead as had the Circle of Nine. Now, the word fascinated did not begin to cover his feelings. She had come back from the dead to save the life of the man sent to replace her. Raptor found it poetic, if in a backhanded way. And, though Tanith so easily brushed it aside, she would have her payment for the blood debt he owed. Raptor would have it no other way. A man who cherished life, despite outward appearances, Raptor always paid his debts. Paying this one, he thought as he moved through the limbering exercises, would prove no great burden. She was good, but she did not have the Amulet yet. She was brave, and well-accompanied by the pack—but many were the times when the pack was not near. He was not willing to give up his prize—the bounty on the amulet, which was considerable—in order to repay Tanith, but no doubt in a place such as Nashira, there would be other opportunities.
He found her to be hard as tanned leather and sleek as moonlight. A contradiction and a Janissary. Many women were Janissaries, some of them with reputations rivaling his own. But that type had never appealed to Raptor. He liked his women soft, feminine and preferably willing.
Even so, it was less peculiar for Tanith to have chosen the path she did in Raptor’s opinion, as he knew her background; knew what it was that had driven her to this choice. He had to admire her strength. Both, that she received the necessary training and that she had channeled it in the direction
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