As black shadow focused so intently on his targets, managing to kill eight of the nine men, he did not notice that he was being watched. When his bow lowered, a lithe figure sprang from a branch behind him. The woman was clothed much the same as he was, all dark clothes, tightly fitted and obscuring most of her facial features. Even her eyes were pools of darkness, a classic Akashiman brown so dark that it was hard to tell if she had pupils or not. A long braided ponytail was pulled through a hole in her hood, silver ribbon that bound the end of the braid the only light that caught the moon. The girl took a classic ninjitsu stance, both of her hands occupied with small steel daggers. Without warning or word, she lunged forward, swiping her blades towards black shadow's chest.

black shadow, you may not bunny this NPC. We are now in battle, and I will be writing with you directly. I will be erasing this message once our battle is underway.
As Elthas and Barnabas barreled back towards the small shack at the lake, they soon lost the guardsman. The stolen horses were covered in a sweat, steam wafting and dissipating after them from the heat of the magnificent beasts and the chill of the air. It was almost as if the men barely had to guide their steeds towards the lake, leaning into the evening wind that came off the water. The horses seemed to know where they were going, and their hooves beat out a steady rhythm. Within the hour, they were once more at the shack. The door was open, the fire inside glowing as if it had been piled up and stoked in their absence. Indeed through the door, the table that held their box of supplies was removed, and there stood a figure.

The woman Barnabus had spoken to was standing by the hearth. She lifted her hood, letting a mess of blond curls spill out. Her hazel eyes were trained on the two, the look flashing across them hovering somewhere between amusement and disbelief. Red lips, as dark against her pale skin as blood spattered against snow parted and she chortled out her greeting.

"So, you're alive, and you brought the horses?" She cocked her head, her eyes trained on Barnabus. "Tell me, how many of the royal guard lives?"

Behind the men, under the horses, a dark line began to trace in the soil. It was faint, as if the dirt was merely being wettened by some unseen source. As it began to form a circle, with lines cascading and looping through it, the horses ducked their heads and began to eat from the grass.