The dark figure sat in the shadows for a while longer, staring after Ryn.
"Idiot."
With this he stood to his full six feet and turned up the lamp. He had dimmed it when he had sensed Ryn coming. It wouldn't do for Ryn to know who exactly he was dealing with, after all.
He ran his fingers through his short coarse hair, wincing as his claws caught in a snag.
"They never think past the next pay. Too bad for them."
An intoxicating aroma came from the next room. "Ah!" He smiled. "Dinner!"
* * *
Tamia was sore. Her feet ached, her head pounded and she was weary beyond imagination. She had walked for nine days, eating berries and roots she found in the woods.
Her shortbow was slung over her shoulder, useless. She had snapped her last string three days ago, stalking a young hare. The prospect of having no meat was enough to make her grumpy.
Apart from her physical ailments, she was reeling inside. After her mother died, she packed in a daze. The prone body of the attacker was still slumped against the hearth. She had taken out her hunting knife and drew it across his throat, all emotions numb.
She then turned her back on her mother, her home, her life. Unsure what to do, she had just chose a direction and walked.
Looking back on the day now, Tamia almost vomited. Not only had she killed a man, she had left her mother's body to rot, without the proper rituals demanded by the dead.
That night, she started a fire and stared into the flames. A owl flew overhead, its mournful call echoing Tamia's grief. It was always the worst at night, when labor was no longer distracting her. Her mind buzzed with thoughts, and her emotions boiled inside her.
If only he hadn't come.
If only she hadn't froze when he grabbed Ma.
If only she could go back and preform the rituals.
If only...
No!
Her mind rebelled. She wouldn't think of this. She can't feel like this. No more self-pity. As she lay down to sleep, she resolved to not look back.
So, in the morning, she mechanically ate some tubers she had cooked the night before. She packed up, and she walked.
Where? she didn't care.
True to her word, she had locked out all emotions. In the weeks after, she reverted back to natural instincts. She ate, slept and walked, never allowing herself thought or emotion. An observer would have thought her insane, her eyes glazed and a strange half-smile on her face.
Her once healthy hair was falling out of a much unkempt ponytail. She was filthy, dirt staining her fair skin a dusty brown. Her leather vest was torn and a leaf was snagged in her loose trousers.
"Oi! lady!"
Tamia span like a startled animal, hand on the hilt of her hunting knife, eyes searching the dense bush.
A figure dropped out of the trees, landing in a crouch.
"No need for the knife now... just want to talk."
It was a child... Tamia blinked. No. Not a child... He was too well proportioned, as though four feet tall was his intended height. His large brown eyes were dancing in mischief, and his chestnut hair looked untameable.
Tamia's eyes focused, and a light in her face was relit.
"Who... who are you?" Tamia's voice was faltering and rusty after her days of solitude.
"Me? I'm your savior."
)
Darn it. Oh well. I hadn't hoped to get this far any way. I really loved and can't wait to read number five! Please keep them coming! They rock! 
