Zara silently counted down until the impact. Her assailants may have considered themselves clever and quick; but the young woman knew, unfortunately, exactly what she was getting into; and exactly what needed to be done. Whether or not she made it out alive was another story. It was hard to suppress her natural survival-based instincts as she ran towards the ambush; and every moment was an endeavor not to turn on her heels and scatter. The thief had attempted to look as surprised as possible; which, like most of Zaraâ€™s expressions, was a cold stare at her attacker as her blades met flesh. She gave into the pressure upon her throat and stopped struggling; it was a lot less painful that way, and as she slipped into unconsciousness; she tormented herself with the question of â€˜why?â€™.  It wasnâ€™t necessarily the question that bothered her, but rather the answer.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>She peered over the windowsill from the outside looking in towards the forge as the chaos ensued.  The knife to her fatherâ€™s neck glistened in the crackling fire. She turned away to eye Jackâ€™s bow settled against the back of the building, waiting; calling to her. The girl bent down and reached for it. The flashes came quickly as the sensations flowed through her body. She traced her fingers downward over the weapons curvature. It was far too large for the childâ€™s stature, but that did not prevent her from knocking it and aiming through the open crevice.<br/><br/>Blood flowed like a liquid river down his neck and seemed into his stained shirt. The wide-eyed eight year old drew back the arrow and froze in terror. The group of men began to rummage through the forge leaving the dying man like a slab of meat upon the ground. The burning sensation within her heart quickly chilled to a glacial freeze as she released the arrow; striking true. She watched the body crumple in amazement at death as the men scanned the area.<br/><br/>They were alerted to her presence. She ran. They were faster. Soon the young girl found herself held up by the back of her neck and the others circling like sharks. No one went without paying their debt to the thievesâ€™ guild without repercussion. She knew she had been caught; she knew the pain would come. They pried the bow out of the hands of the blacksmithâ€™s daughter; and forced her to the ground. She had taken one of their men; and she owed them a replacement.<br/><br/>Thrown over oneâ€™s shoulder and carted off to an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people; thrown into a holding cell to be trained and groomed; her heart corrupted to their will. â€˜How many times have you shot a bow?â€™ the one had asked; the one with the gleaming sword of silver. Their fearless leader. â€˜Once,â€™ she had told them; and no oneâ€™s aim had been truer. An asset; of course, to their cause; someone to train from a young age that could be at war with the world. She would never be at war with the world; the cold shroud of revenge had already hidden her heart deep within.<br/><br/>---<br/><br/>Eyes fluttered open; she rarely slept. Thatâ€™s when the nightmares generally surfaced for Zara. At first she welcomed the long rest, but she quickly became aware of the dwindling pain inflicted by Lezarrâ€™s men, and she groaned softly. She looked around the small, barred cell. The realization finally hit her, that she may not escape this place. No, she assured herself, she would escape; when one of them presented an opportunity. When one of them underestimated her. That dwindling spark of hope was the only thing that gave her enough strength to sit up from the earthen floor.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I really hope no others tried to follow meâ€¦or if they did I will hopefully get a chance to kill them myself before they or I should die.</span>She sighed softly before moving back against the wall to rest her hands on her knees and her head back against the cold stony surface.