BACK

It wasn't long after arriving to Spiral Hold that Faralona knew what she wanted to do to earn her keep. She was quite an adept rider, after all, and with a bit of practice out in the light woods within sight of the fields, there was plenty of game to hunt. Carson the blacksmith with a stable, where Backy was being boarded, offered to lend her a hunting spear. She eagerly took him up on it, and eventually mastered a one-handed spear toss that bagged her wild wherry and feral pigs.

Backy wasn't the best mount for this task, of course. She was used to pulling a cart or being raced a little on nice, even turf. This was rougher work, in terrain that she'd never experienced. But then, Faralona kept her head and used a confident tone when addressing the mare, and over a little more time, only a few weeks, the runner learned as much as the girl about where to hunt and what to sniff for.

One afternoon, some six weeks after her escape from her father, Faralona learned of a troupe of riders sporting Hogsden's flag approaching the Hold, and she blanched. The guards at the gate had long since gotten used to her, knowing her situation (they'd managed to coax it out of her after a day of bartering and gambling over the pelt that she didn't feel like selling down at the Circle) and keeping her appraised of things. One of them had a flitter that liked to roam - and apparently the little creature had an eye for colors. The silver and red standard showing two horse shoes and a hogs head was a banner that the flitter just couldn't get out of his head.

From atop Backy, Faralona sat stiffly and guarded, near the gate house to the Hold.

"We can just say you've not come through here," said the one, bearded, man. His younger and balder companion nodded deeply. They clearly had taken a liking to Fara, she was competent and strong willed - they'd half considered asking her to join the city guard.

"... They'll find out, how did he know to look here?" She asked, more to herself than anyone present.

"It's possible he's just searching every place within riding distance, now," said the bald guard. That made Faralona's stomach sink.

"That's more likely," she said, "it's not like him to have thought to ask around first. I ... wonder how angry he's going to be when I send them home without me."

The men on the ground glanced at one another, and back at the steely glare on the girl's face. Her bruised cheek had healed weeks ago but there was a small scar under her eye from it. She'd thought about having it tattooed black, or perhaps red, just to prove it was there.

She wore it like threadscore, a badge she'd earned. In a way the men both respected her and were frightened for her. Too bold perhaps, too eager to fight. She still got into spats - but with young men and women who were of a par with her abilities. She was learning when to hold her tongue, but still apt to mess up, especially if it involved love, men, or a woman's place in the world.

The riders from Hogsden were within sight now, their standard flying high and proud. There were five riders, none of them nobles from the House though, and that made Faralona's grim face adopt a somewhat nasty grin.

"I can handle this," she said to the guards, but she turned to them and smirked. "If it looks like I'm about to do something really stupid, stop me, okay?"

They chuckled nervously, but stood by as she passed them and went onto the road.

Backy recognized her stable mates, even after two months away. But her ears went back, she sensed her rider's anger and fear. She gave a little knicker and Faralona's hand went to gently touch her neck. "It's all right, girl, they'll go away soon enough."

"There she is," called one young man in the group, and foolishly tried to urge his runner toward the girl. The man in front, who Faralona recognized as one of the House guards, held his hand out and stopped him.

"Landry's got a bounty out on you," he said. "We're to bring you back alive but if you fight he just wants your--"

"He can't have my anything, and he won't be seeing me alive any time soon," Faralona spat, "you're not going to get any money from him, he's practically destitute. You know that." She tightened her grip on the reigns.

Without even pausing, the leader of the group said, "your scalp, and barring that, we're definitely to take the runner. She's of more value than you are, girl."

Faralona's green eyes narrowed, down to slits. "I own this runner. I bred her, I foaled her, I trained her, and I keep her fit. He wouldn't know how to take care of a runner if it bit him. Especially if it bit him." She shook her head.

"I think you need to look at this rationally," said another of the guards behind his leader, "You're a horse thief, at best."

"No, I'm a horse thief at worst. You don't remember why I ran away? Or do you believe whatever that oaf told you about me?" Faralona spat on the ground, "he can rot, to the Red Star with him. Here," she said suddenly, sitting back a bit, "how much did he offer you as a bounty? How much?"

"More'n you've got ye' li'l--" an older man sputtered, but Faralona pulled a small pouch from her saddle pack.

"Fifteen Marks? More?" Faralona said. "That's enough for three full Marks each, that's more than my father ever had in his lock box."

Angrily, the leader of the group urged his runner a few feet closer. "Where'd you steal that from, now? You're digging yourself deeper and --"

"I earned it, you foul pig," Faralona growled, "Do you think this spear is just for decoration?" She nodded at it, resting in its sling at her right side. "I'm hunting for pelts and meat, it's a better living than I could ever have at Hogsden."

The head of the group glanced at the guards past Faralona, and yelled toward them, "what're you looking at? We're here to take this fugitive thief back for trial."

"I don't think so," yelled the bearded guard, "she's one of the best hunters we've got, I think you should take her money and go. She'll make more." Faralona heard the groan of his leather armor as he stood straighter and away from the gate's wall. "Shards, I'll give you two more Marks, if it'll make you leave all the quicker."

He flicked one of them into the air, Faralona caught it, then the second he tossed, and put them into her purse. Then she absently tossed it at the leader of the Hogsden guard.

"Don't come back. Don't look for me. Don't bother telling him I'm here, either. I'll find out about that."

"He knows you're here, he'll come looking himself." Said the man, glancing at the pouch he'd stretched to catch. His fingers felt around the cloth, yes - there were many Marks, heavy and solid, in there.

"Let him. I'll send his scalp home to my mother." Faralona turned Backy around, and headed into the city gate. When the party of Hogsden men were making small talk and shifting their own runners around to head back the way they came, Faralona dismounted and stood by the guards.

"You didn't have to do that, now I owe you two Marks," she said.

"Hardly," he replied. "You owe me a wherry dinner is all. The look on his face was worth half a Mark itself."

When the group had gotten over the slight rise that led away to the north, and were about to head back into the light woodland bordering Spiral Hold's land, Faralona lept back onto her runner.

"Where you going?" Asked the bald guard.

"Into the woods. I'll be right back." Faralona kicked her heels gently into Backy's sides, and sped off into the turf and the rougher terrain of the forest. She knew the area well enough by now to know just what she was looking for.

Well, she knew approximately, but not exactly. When she found the drooping rock formation and the half-covered signs of a fort, she pulled up short and gave a whistle. "Heyo!" She called, half-hoarse and eagerly. Not at full volume, she knew how close the road was.

Eventually three men and one woman crept out of their hiding places among the stones and plants. Without even letting them get angry with her for intruding on their territory, she said, "there's a group of men from another Hold, red and silver banner, they've got some Marks on them. I'd suggest going quickly and getting them. Their runners have just come quite a ways and will be tired. Don't harm the men, don't hurt the runners. Take the Marks and clear them out to the north - only the north. Don't let them come back this way."

Stunned, the woman with a scar from Thread along her forehead said, "why, what'll you give us for getting your Marks back?"

"No, no, you keep them. I just don't want them having it. And I want them to know that they're not welcome here. This is your woods, right?" She winked. "There's at least seventeen marks in one pouch, whatever else they have as well. Just don't hurt them or their runners - and stay out of my trapping area."

"Aha," one of the men laughed, "you're the hunter that keeps taking our dinner!"

"Well you are bandits, someone's got to keep you from getting fat." Faralona laughed. "Go quickly, they're on the road already."

She then turned and sped around back to the road and the Hold gate.

NEXT