Ankly's eyes were wide in shock as he slumped to the ground. By the god's graces, he had never been bested before. He had known this was a bad idea, that was the singular thought that possessed him as his mind went fuzzy, but an order was an order.<br/><br/>He died there, on the cold ground, the god's many eyes illuminating his stiff form.<br/><br/>________________________________________________________________________________________________________________<br/><br/><br/>Fayette spent more times in the woods than her mother found healthy. If she just spent half as much time working on her weaving as she did hunting, they wouldn't<span style="font-style: italic">need</span>her to bring home food. They could buy it with her wares. Unfortunately for her mother, Fayette found needlework to be maddening. Unfortunately for Fayette, the woods between her small village and the gates of Fira were barren, hunted out by the large population nearby.<br/><br/>She had been below the cliff face, in the woods, when the man died. She had seen it all from her perch in the trees, the two struggling forms silhouetted by the moonlight. Her hands shook in trepidation as she climbed down from the branch, lightly landing on her feet. She started forward, towards the path to the cliff face she knew so well. She stuck to the bushes, shying back into the darkness when the rider's tell-tale ruckus echoed through the quite night. She waited until the night became still again, the brisk night breezing carrying silence with it, before she darted up the path to raid what was left of the camp.<br/><br/>She made out well this time-- a horse, a whole, live horse, and a chained necklace she awkwardly took off the man's body. He was well dressed, she couldn't help but wonder his story. She thought about it the whole ride back, the man's bloody sword awkwardly hanging in her belt.  She'd have to wash. What was worse, she was late for her tavern work.<br/><br/>Money had to come in somehow.