A small smile found its way onto Kiara’s face as she set her sights on her prey, one she  had spotted near the crack of dawn, and tracked well into the better half of the day. This prey, a twenty-three point male deer, was well worth the trouble. The meat, if processed off by the most amateur hunter, would be able to feed her for the next few days. However, Kiara was no amateur, she knew how to process the meat in such a way, it would feed her and a party of four, for, at the very least, the next week.
The air grew silent as the deer moved out from the underbrush of the vast untamed forest to a small pond. As it knelt down rest, and quench its thirst, Kiara readied her bow, masking her presence, and blending among the trees. A sharp low whistle broke through the silence as her arrow sailed through the air. As the deer’s head raised and pivoted towards the sound, giving it little more than a second to react, let alone perceive the arrow as the threat it was.
Kaira’s aim was precise, her arrow penetrated the deer, striking its heart. Granting the creature a quick and painless end to its existence. She knelt down beside the beast, thanking both god and the deer, for the hunt and supplies the deer’s carcase would provide. It was a small ritual that had been ingrained into her by her mentor. Finishing her little prayer, she began prepping the deer so she could carry it back to her camp.
After carefully taking out the arrow, so she could reuse it later, Kiara knelt down beside the pond. Pausing a moment to stare at her own reflection, pulling back the hood of her cloak so she could see herself with greater clarity. Her long smooth brown hair flowed over her shoulders. Her skin appeared as if it would be soft to the touch. Her eyes, a burning hazel, showed she was not to be taken lightly.
She smiled at the memory of the last man who’d thought she was just some other girl for the taking. The whimpers he made as she twisted his arm and dislocated it from his socket were a sweet memory. Now Kiara wasn’t a sadist or anything of that nature, she just loved it when she could put someone in their place. She had a deep seated hatred for those who thought themselves entitled to the world, simply because of their birth.
Shaking these thoughts from her mind, Kiara returned her attention to the deer, pulling her hood back up in a manner in which her face was hidden by the hood’s shadow. However, when a white note on the deer’s carcass caught her eye, she jumped back, reaching instinctively for the short sword on her waist. Her eyes scanned the surrounding forest, before she allowed her body to relax, and reached for the note.
A smile found its way onto her face once more as she saw the note was from her mentor. Heh, the only person on this earth able to get the jump on me. She thought, as her eyes followed the words inscribed on the paper, the smile grew in size. Nearly jumping with joy after she finished, she hurried to gather up the deer and make her way back to camp.
Yet, she paused a moment, the sudden appearance of her mentor could not be a good sign, he normally wrote far in advance and never delivered his messages in person. Not that it really matter to her, Kiara would follow her mentor to hell and back. He had taken her in as a young orphaned, and raised her among his own. His own children had quickly accepted her as their sister, his wife treated her as if she was her own daughter, and he was the only father she’d ever known. Even if she rarely saw or spoke to him nowadays, expect through letters and notes.

Only a few hours of sunlight remained in the day by the time Kiara had returned to her camp. After she set the deer on a drying rack, she had entered her tent and began putting her gear away before she took noticed of the faint words of a distance conversation in a nearby tent.
As she approached the tent, she began recognizing each of the four voices, the first belonging to Draven, most likely dressed in his usual brown cloak with a shadow green tunic underneath. The second  was claimed by D’Alerian, who always favored his dirty white cloak and gray tunic. The third was owned by the only person she didn’t really enjoy being around of the group,  Ewan, probably wearing his gray cloak and dark maroon tunic. The fourth voice cause her to pause for a moment, before sprinting into the tent, zooming past Draven, D’Alerian, and Ewan to wrap the fourth cloaked figure in an embrace, which was quickly returned in kind.
“Speak of the devil and she shall appear.” Ewan said with a slight scoff.
“Not true, you appear whether we speak of you or not.” Draven said, passing Ewan a smart assed smile.
“Ignoring the idiot’s comment,“ D’Alerian said, nodding towards Ewan, “mentor, now that Kiara has returned from her hunt. May you tell us the reason for this unexpected visit?”
Kiara released their mentor, allowing him to speak and move freely. “Aye. I have come to ensure you are all prepared for the coming chaos. Earlier this week, the entire royal family was murdered, poisoned during their dinner. And I need not tell each of you what that means. The Kingdom may turn into a land of utter chaos in the coming-” Suddenly he reached into his cloak, flicking his wrist towards the tent’s entrance. Shortly following the flash and whistle of tempered steel sailing through the air, a loud thud rang out as the, now lifeless, body of a man slammed into the ground.
“This is what I mean, spies and assassins coming to take the lives of those able to stop their masters ploys to claim the throne. To arms, let us make clear just who’ve they’ve chosen to send them to the next life.” He said, unsheathing his broadsword and storming outside the tent.
Kiara, D’Alerian, Draven, and Ewan each followed suit, joining their mentor in the skirmish taking place inside their camp.
Right as Kiara exited the tent, the shimmer of steel caught her eye. She raised the broadsword in her left hand, parrying the blow, before returning a strike with the one she held in her right hand, planting the blade into the chest of her attacker. The attackers body had yet to even hit the ground before the next was on her.
As she fought on, a smile grew on her face, she loved the thrill of battle. The clashing and slashing of steel, the cries of those fresh to the fray joining in, the feeling of adrenaline coursing throughout her veins. The battlefield was the one place where birth carried no meaning, steel could care less if you were the third child of some wealthy family, it would cut you down the same as if you were a peasant.
Kiara continued on fighting for the better portion of an hour, defeating eight opponents. Once she was sure there was no threat, she knelt down, praying for the souls of those she had killed, thanking God for protecting her this battle and asking for forgiveness for the lives she had sent to him before their time. This was yet another ritual ingrained into her by her mentor, a way to insure one would never take the value of life lightly, or the loss of it.
“Bloody ‘Ell, darn thing won’t stop bleeding.”
Kiara whirled her head around to see Ewan standing there. The area around the upper right arm of his cloak and tunic soaked with a crimson liquid.
“Let me see it, I may be able to close the wound.” Kiara said, standing up and walking over to Ewan. “Or would you prefer to bleed to death?”
Reluctantly, Ewan pulled back his cloak and tunic, holding his arm out for her to examine. The gash in his arm was deep, needing weeks, perhaps even months to properly heal. It was also to wide to close with a bandage, either stitches or hot metal were needed.
Shaking her head, Kiara glanced up at him, “You have two options, I can either stitch it shut, burn it shut, or both. Stitching would help the wound close faster, but you may still lose a lot of blood. Cauterizing the wound would stop the bleeding, but it would never heal correctly. Also we’re all out of pain dulling herbs, someone keeps having to use them.”
With a disgusted scoff Ewan nodded, “Alright, alright, due both, I’ll need my arm back soon.”
Kiara nodded, putting one of her swords, placing it into the nearby camp fire, and grabbing the small sewing kit she kept in her pouch. She then proceeded to stitch up the wound, ignoring the groans of pain from Ewan. Once the wound had be properly closed, she retrieved her sword form the flames of the fire, and pressed the hot metal against the skin around Ewan’s wound. Ewan let out a groan of pain as the smell of burning skin filled the air. After the wound had been cauterized she set her sword to the side, letting it cool off before returning it to its sheath.
“All done. I have to give you some credit Ewan, I half expected you to scream like a little boy.” Kaira said.
“Oi lass, watch what you say, my don’t think I won’t risk reopening this wound to teach you a lesson.”
“Hehehe, I won’t close it again if you do. Plus what’s to say you can even catch me?”
“Enough you two, the mentors waiting.” Draven said as he walked up to them.
Kiara jumped up, placing her sword back in her sheath and began walking towards where she believe her mentor would be standing. “Then come on boys, what are we waiting for?”