Vanna sat perched on the branch of a massive oak tree, leaning against its thick trunk as she stared off into the dense forest surrounding her. Her talons dug deep into the bark underneath them and were ripped free one at a time, only to slowly come to rest and dig back in as part of a repeating, subconscious process. She hated being anxious; it tended to bring out her animalistic side and get her thinking about the blowing of the wind, and trees, and catching squirrels... useless things that clouded her thoughts just when she needed them most. What she was supposed to be thinking about was how to get her gang out of the mess they had found themselves in. The bounty hunters on her trail were becoming more persistent by the day, and had begun to realize that they couldn't fool her with fake caravans. Last time they had used a real one as bait, and Zif barely had enough time to warn her and the others off before they all ended up dead. Now the Black Pinions were laying low, but that wouldn't save them from anything. The forest was no longer a safe place to hide, and there was nowhere they could run where a talking harpy wouldn't draw attention. What Vanna needed was a way out, and she hated the only one that came to mind.<br/><br/>A few weeks back, Liam had caught someone wandering through their territory alone. He was well dressed, but his pockets were empty and he was carrying nothing but a sword with which to defend himself. A quick interrogation at knife-point revealed that he was not lost but rather searching for the very bandits who had captured him, with the intent to deliver a message. The man was apparently a trusted servant of some influential lord, who wished to hire the Pinions to perform some crucial-yet-unspecified task that he could not allow the public to learn of. In exchange, he was prepared to eliminate all official records of their existence along with the price on their heads, as well as pay them a considerable sum of money for their trouble. All they had to do was meet with another one of the lord's men to receive instructions, complete those instructions to the best of their ability, and keep silent about the whole ordeal to whomever else they had dealings with.<br/><br/>Naturally, they instead kept his sword and left him to find his way back home without an answer. Still, the hunters seemed to disappear for while afterwards, and now they were back in greater force than they ever had been. The timing was too convenient to ignore; whoever wanted Vanna's help wasn't afraid to force her hand even if it meant the death of her and everyone she knew.<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Zif!</span>" she barked, turning her head to glare in the direction of their makeshift camp.<br/><br/>The ground at the foot of camp's modest fire pit buckled and shifted, revealing itself as a lanky henchman in a weathered cloak which blended perfectly with the surrounding dirt - whether by cunning or coincidence. Lifting a wide-brimmed hat from his duplicitous features, Randall Zifram staggered to his feet, blinking furiously as he scanned the treeline for the source of the command. He was a man of angles both literal and metaphorical; sharp of elbow, long of limb, dressed in fine-cut leathers... and possessed of a remarkable talent for dishonesty. Convenient, then, that dishonesty was his only trade.<br/><br/>"Ladyship."<br/><br/>Having located his erstwhile leader on the lower branches of a stately oak, he took a mock-bow which swept the dusty cloak from his shoulders. A narrow reed protruded from the corner of his mouth which vibrated as he spoke, having apparently materialized from nothingness.<br/><br/>Vanna narrowed her eyes at the sententious bandit. "I'm not a ship."<br/><br/>"Neither a lady," Zif grumbled into the brim of his hat. The angular black feather in its band quivered as if in acknowledgement of its owner.<br/><br/>"S'time for you to mingle with the common folk again." Vanna replied, scowling at the comment. "You're going back to civilization."<br/><br/>"Anten's Still?" he scoffed. "Now that's high praise fer a run-down shanty've trumped up-"<br/><br/>"Kyneswarden," she corrected him, smiling cruelly. "where the guards have sticks shoved so far up their arses they'll pinch ye for failin' t'greet yer neighbor."<br/><br/>The reed tumbled from Zif's mouth; his knife-edged eyebrows receded into the hat. His expression was a confounding mix of surprise, fear, intrigue, and avarice. At length it settled on an impenetrable half-smile which he wore like a finely tailored glove.<br/><br/>"Ambrosia fer the hearing, boss."<br/><br/>Avarice appeared to be winning.<br/><br/>"Remember that sorry little bootlick who came lookin' for us some time ago?"<br/><br/>"Aye. Reedy bloke strung tighter'n a bow, silver spoon lodged firmly in the posterior? I sealed a few lender's notes with that ring've his. Real officious-looking. Worked until some cad figured it for lowborn wick wax with a bit've berry pigment."<br/><br/>"I think his boss is puttin' the pressure on us, an' if so, he should still have some dupe waiting t' meet us there. Find out what he wants."<br/><br/>"Skullduggery, like as not. That, or the handful've silvers I lifted from his account with that bit of wit... 'longside the hand what did the lifting." Zifram winced, flexing his cold-numbed fingers in their gloves. "Hoping it's skullduggery."<br/><br/>"Skullduggery an'<span style="font-style: italic">coin</span>," the acrimonious harpy reminded him. "No use in it elsewise."<br/><br/>"S'much goes unsaid. No freedom fer bandits; no banditry fer free. No less than the cornerstone've good economics. Didn't quite figure us for the hiring sort, truth be told."<br/><br/>Sighing, Vanna turned back to stare into the empty woods again.<br/><br/>"Be careful, Zif. I wouldn't ask if it weren't our best shot."<br/><br/>*****<br/><br/>The sound of heavy boots stomping upon dried leaves and fallen twigs permeated the outskirts of the village known as New Covington. Although they were only six men strong, the group stormed through the lightly forested area like an army, maintaining a tight formation and a constant watch on all sides in anticipation of some unseen threat. Any pretense of subtlety that they may have once possessed was long gone, discarded along with their patience after countless days of hunting without any meaningful progress. Every trap they set had failed, every plan spoiled, and every search turned up nothing but dust and useless rumors. Their latest attempt, which had taken the form of a complete frontal assault against an enemy which did not exist, was accomplishing little more than terrifying the local peasantry into thinking their idyllic town was being occupied by a band of raiders.<br/><br/>In truth, the men were bounty hunters, and their interest in New Covington was minimal at best. No major trade routes passed through the village, and it was not the sort of lawless slum that could so easily harbor bandits either, not that any of them expected to find the infamous Black Pinions hiding in a town even amongst their own kind. Rather, the reason that six like-minded servants of the law found themselves lodging in such a peaceful place was because it straddled the border of a great forest, which itself was suspiciously close to the site of several recent attacks on wealthy caravans. It was not the first time any of them had attempted to comb the trees in search of their quarry, nor was it the first time that they had returned with nothing but blisters and sores for their trouble, and at long last their pride had worn down to match the miserable state of their footwear.<br/><br/>"Right!" one of the men shouted without warning, coming to a halt in the middle of a small clearing. The others followed suit, more out of confusion than anything, and turned to look back at him questioningly. Whatever he was doing was not something they had agreed upon.<br/><br/>"Every one of ye's thinkin' it, so I'm jus' gonna say it aloud." he fumed, stomping his foot down to further exaggerate his point. "She ain't here. None of 'em are! This is a-"<br/><br/>"Andre-" another member of the group began, quickly being cut off by his comrade's tantrum.<br/><br/>"No! This is a waste of time. Ain't no winged harlots hiding in this damned forest, an' I'm sick've pretendin' otherwise. You dolts can spend the next week here fer all I care; I'm goin' back t' the inn!"<br/><br/>"<span style="font-style: italic">Silence!</span>" hissed a third, pointing his sword at the man whom he had tried and failed to ignore. "Stay or leave, idiot, but hold your tongue before I rip it out. Same goes for the rest of you; I'm not here to watch you all make fools of yourselves."<br/><br/>His threat was well-received, and in the ensuing quiet he took a moment to kneel down, close his eyes, and listen intently. After a while, he was certain of what he heard, and with a low whisper he shared it among his comrades.<br/><br/>"I can hear talking to the south. Get the nets ready."