Asher didn't know if her sudden embrace or her war trophy were more unexpected.  She felt good there, and for the brief moment her hair brushed under his chin, he found it smelled rather nice.  "I told you I would.  Always do." He responded to her, but his voice emerged low and tired.  He saw where she'd erected Zaine's severed head, and felt little remorse for her fate.  She'd brought it upon herself.  He felt it likely that nobody would miss her.  He took pause when he saw her message.<br/><br/>"That's not a warning, it's a challenge," he said bitterly.  He looked down at her again, his brows pressed in concern.  "You... want them to come, don't you?  The Chief wants to finish the job.  I told him to move the Clan but he won't.  Not until either side is eliminated."  Asher clutched at his bowstring and began limping swiftly away from the grisly scene.  He didn't want to be there when the scouts found it.  His word was about as useful as a rhech in a jam pot.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">I</span>can't stop them.  If they attack, it will be in full force, and they know what to expect this time."<br/><br/>His limp transformed into a frustrated march.  He was headed nowhere in particular, but intended to put as much distance between himself and the encampment as he could manage.  Leaves crunched under his boots and he vaulted over the gnarled roots, and for a good distance he said nothing as his mind seethed with questions.  Where would he go?  He couldn't stay around.  If he ever crossed paths with the Clan again, they would kill him.  He could take up odd jobs, there was always mercenary work around.<br/><br/>He smelled water.  His pace slowed, and the trees abruptly thinned when the valley opened up into a lake.  The surface shimmered like glass, small waves lapping at the stones scattered on the shore where he finally halted.  The air was fresh here, and a small breeze rolled past him.  It was amazing how a simple change of setting can clear one's mind.  He stood there until his breath slowed and calmed.  Then, he unstrung his bow and quiver, laying them between a collection of rocks, threw off his armour and dove bare-arsed into the cold water.  The bindings around his head unraveled and floated to the surface.