“Warden,” The words cut through the blacksmith's shop in a panic, the man who uttered them rushing between anvils and racks of weaponry and armor. He was in a blind panic and Samantha had never seen a cultist act in such a way.

“Out with it, it's obviously important if you ran here to tell me,” the words were snapping with impatience at the delay. The man nodded and gulped more air before he was pulled up by the blacksmith, who Sam had come to know as Adrian.

“Stand up, you're not going to catch your breath like that,” The man snapped. The messenger nodded before he looked to Samantha and nodded one more time.

Samantha was sure the man would be dead soon if he didn't start talking.

“Arten, he found Lorelei,” The man began.

Samantha nodded before she spoke, “Good, why run back? You could have walked…” she paused before her eyes narrowed, “He didn't…”

The man suddenly hunched his shoulders like a struck dog before he said, “He and a few of his hunting friends are trying to get her on a hunt.”

He didn't even finish the comment before her sword was snatched off a nearby table. Quickly placed in the sheath on her side she looked to Adrian, “Every cultist, every god damn one that isn't in Arten’s circle needs to be where Lorelei is now. By the Dark Mother I'm going to kill that sick bastard if I get my hands on him! He's about to-”

She gripped her hand tight before she shook it and turned back to the messenger. Both hands clamped on the man’s shoulders, “Where is he taking her?”

“Old town, where the village was burned by Corone's Civil War,” He replied.

“You know the way?” she asked. He nodded before she pushed him towards the door, “You just volunteered to be my tour guide. Hurry, if he so much as scratches that girl I'm going to nail his head to the wall.”

Adrian moved elsewhere and a few men ran with Samantha and her messenger. There was no cries, not a shout between them. Some seemed to be excited for the prospect of killing, while others merely seemed to get more grim, preparing for the battle ahead. Old town was only a short distance from the smithy, but that was time Lorelei might not have.

Arten Greensbough was a hunter that had signed up to join the ranks of the Corone rangers. It hadn't taken long before someone from the Cult noticed his unnatural desires to hunt his fellow man. Such desires could have proven useful to Samantha, had he the ability to curtail them. More than once the Cult had bailed him out of situations, sacrificing other members as scapegoats for Arten’s crimes. He had shown up in reports often enough Samantha knew his name and had put him on a list of potential problems. Because that man was responsible for letting members of the Cult avoid deep patrols into Concordia, he had been allowed to live. Now, it seemed such mercy was spat upon, and for such men there was one sentence, the Dark Mother’s Forgiveness.

Samantha couldn't kill Arten, not for what he was doing today. She could however, make sure he learned to curtail his impulses or she would get that permission, even if it came post mortem. Hell, even a beating from Jeb would be worth it at this point. Lorelei had been a high priority conversion, and this man threatened to ruin the plot before it could begin.

The ruined cinders of Old Underwood stretched before her. Samantha came to a halt and scanned them hissing, “Fan out, if it has a dick and isn't Arten, kill it. I want that bastard found and brought to me alive. I need words with the hunter. All women should be contained but unharmed. They are not your prey.”

The Cultists grunted and spat out assent spreading through the ruins. Samantha moved down the center, leading the charge. It was a calculated move. If she found Lorelei first she would appear as a Savior, but to her men, leading the charge meant she wasn't going risking them on things she wouldn't do herself. She stopped spotting something and knelt, her eyes taking in signs of flight. These had to be Lorelei’s tracks erratic, uneven, not caring for the trail they left. Arten would have no trouble following such a trail.

She also saw the huntsman's boot prints. He was letting her tire herself out and taking it easy, avoiding the pitfalls of the forest while she could potentially hurt herself. What little emotion was left in her face drained as she felt the murderous rage fill her lithe frame. It took all her patience to remind herself that she couldn't kill Arten, he was a valued asset. She moved into the forest while the men scanned through the ruins, searching for what she knew they'd never find. A shrill whistle sounding off and letting her posse know where she was heading. They drew blades and moved into the forest with a cautious speed.

The hunter, had become the hunted.