A question, that was the problem, the man wanted answers to his question. As he clutched his stomach trying to keep it shut against the cold air he closed his eyes as he let the questions roll over him. The wind whipped at the waning branches of the trees. He pondered how to answer, as he decided he would answer, if it drew Ashiakin ever closer. He was the trap, the ticking bomb; he had to wait for the right moment to explode, to catch his opponent off guard.

"In Lavinya," He began before he remained silent a bit as if trying to gather his words, or battle the pain he couldn't feel, "A thief is more than a job, it’s a title. It means we aren't going to sell our soul for a few paltry bits of precious metal a day to men who would sacrifice us to further their gains..."

This time he winced as his words actually caused a bit of pain. It had been awhile since he had been forced to feel his pain, as he tried to coax it through the barrier, to play his part well. As he remained silent a bit more he decided to finish his words, "I named it as my calling, to not bow or bend knee before any form of royalty. So that one day I might wield their power, and shatter their chains to free those I cared about from their unwanted rule."

He left the words out there. He did not however relinquish his hold on ebony. The dagger was hidden under his cloak as he waited, ever patient. The murderer knew one thing about Patience, it was a hunter’s best friend, for eventually the wolf, unaware of its situation, would snap at the wrong moment, and the trap would be sprung.

When that occurred, the wolf would be destroyed.