Drawn and quartered she hung naked against a tree. A wooden sign was nailed above her head and in crude letters ‘SHE IS OURS’ a message to whomever would come. To whoever she would call. Be it Erik, or the Hunter. Or another ‘connection’ another ‘ally’ she had made.

Wolves tore at her, her head hung low. Moments before her death she had heard a voice but it didn't register who. There was a warmth in her chest before it was gnawed open. Skin ripped from her. Her body covered in blood, vitae and sinue.

Black smoke shimmered, crackled to life, filled in and around as an outline slowly came into existence. There was a moment, a heartbeat of time where the figure was insubstantial - then it almost visibly snapped together, forming into a vital, living form. Silver eyes shot around rapidly, dark skin went purple - and there was a near incoherent cry of rage.

In front of her corpse, he fought. There was no artistry to his movements - the coat-clad Hunter leapt forward, disdaining even his blade as his fingers drove into the wolf that was directly in front of her, burying into its neck as it tried to swallow its meaty prize. There was a wet shlick as his muscles drove his hands through the wolf’s hide, tearing through muscle and sinew. Then he snarled, and stood upright, and tore, ripping open its neck and nearly decapitating it. The corpse fell, a shining black gem rolling out from the terrible hole where it's head should have been, and the blood-stained hunter lashed out, grabbing another wolf as it leapt for him.

He spun, and drove it into the ground, crushing its skull into the ground. His gloved hand came up, covered in gore and viscera. The Huntsman flicked his hand - then drew his blade with a heavy click as he snapped it out to full extension. One hand ripped his mask down, and he snarled defiance at the circling wolves. The drow spun his jagged weapon end over end, furious silver eyes flitting between the wolves that remained. He stood between them and their meal - but two corpses lay at his feet. He was no trapped victim, but a killer unleashed and furious at them. The wolves broke - and ran, pelting away from her. The Hunter turned to Scarlet, breathing heavily and waited.

Normally Scarlet would have revived on her own. There would have been a flash of light...screams...anything. Instead her pale bloodied corpse hung lifelessly before him. Sickly pale skin already taking on the tinge of death. Hunter pressed closer and noticed another thing; her eyes had been ripped from their sockets. Two bloodied holes where her eyes used to be.

He snarled, furious. “Yours, yours and you treat her like this? You fucking bastards have no idea of what someone belonging to you should mean.” He slammed his weapon away, then brought her down - somewhat callously, but he didn't have the time to wait around to help her. Swiftly, she was flipped over, baring the sigil upon her back. He bit down on his wrist and tore it open, ignoring the pain as he let his purple blood fall down onto her back, slowly spreading out across the runework.

“Come on Dawn girl, come back to me.” As it slowly began to glisten, he sat down and pulled her into his lap.

There was a low thrum from her body then an explosion of light. He didn't look away as it ripped across his body, scorching him. Her body writhed and she screamed. Shrill cries of gargled pain as her body reconstructed itself. Warbled and choked cries were replaced with curse words and sobbing. Finally the light faded.

Scarlet lay there in his lap. Milky white eyes staring blankly before her. This had happened once before...someone had ripped out her eyes before she revived. It took a while for her sight to come back. Scarlet winced. “M-Master?” She breathed. She could feel leather against her skin.

Her voice croaked, cracked from dehydration. “Master I can’t see.” With a shaking hand she pushed herself up off of the man and slumped forward. “Food...shelter...warmth…” She droned on. “These were the things promised to me. These were the things taken from me.” Her shaking hands curled into the snow.

“I only sought to make the Hand stronger.” She shook her head. “I only wan-” her speech was interrupted with a series of coughs that wracked her body. A warm hand pressed against her back, massaging it gently. The leather clad man remained silent.

Scarlet closed her eyes. Lye did this. He always did this. He was remaining silent because she needed to work things out on her own. “I won’t leave you.” She said before laughing bitterly. Staring at the black emptiness in front of her. “You said you’d take everything from me. You said you’d strip me of humanity.” Scarlet turned her head toward the direction she thought her Master sat.

“I can see it. Even you have grown to detest what I have become. Madison is dead. You’re free from her grip. The hand is slowly growing.” Scarlet reached a trembling frostbitten hand out toward him. “I am strong Master. I may wander, but not far - not from you. How can I when you own everything?”