Estelle had been practicing, starting small. She had swiped a few small trinkets, things that were easily overlooked. Buttons, scraps of fabric, nails, small candles, even some yarn scraps. All of these were basically useless to her, although she kept one or two of the prettier buttons for when she could sew a new dress. Then, across the market or in the next village or town she would sell them to the peasants for a fraction of what the shopkeepers charged.

She even snagged a dress of the clothing line of some wealthy landowner. She was less conspicuous in a dress, fluffing her hair to hide her pointed ears, blending in with the crowd. At every town, Estelle hid her armor in a safe place just outside in the woods. The leather would be fine in the elements, and she needed to protect it. Not to mention her back was still tender, still healing, and painful to the touch. The dress had a low back, which helped with the pain.

Regardless, the money was more than enough to buy a few potatoes or scraps of meat, and she felt good helping the community. The inflation in Melize was enormous on products like fabric and anything related to the home. Food was a bit more affordable for the average citizen, evidently. There were a few peasants, the poorest of the poor, that Estelle shared her meager supplies with. A piece of fruit here, some soup there.

She was beginning to grow used to the sharp pangs of hunger.

She was walking through a town, surveying the layout in case she needed to escape quickly, when she spotted a large crowd in the town square. She approached cautiously, her hand on her belt. There was the execution stage, with several young men lined up, slated to die. She met one of their eyes. He was a shorter man, with shoulder length brown hair and a short beard. Surprisingly, he looked unafraid. In fact, he was defiant, showing a cool disinterest in the proceedings, even as the man in front of him dropped to his death.

Estelle did not know what came over her as she shouldered her way through the crowd. In one swift motion, she pulled an axe out of another man’s belt, and before he had even realized, she was gone, slipping forward, forward. She had some experience throwing axes. Her uncle had taught her, before he disappeared. Stopping as close to the stage as she dared, she watched the young man walk forward, put the noose around his own neck, and smile at the crowd. The smile never reached his eyes. As he scanned the crowd, his gaze fell upon Estelle.

An officer walked forward and read off his offence. Estelle narrowed her eyes and glanced at the rope, ignoring the throbbing pain of her healing scars. Pull it taut, she thought. As if he read her mind, the man reached up and yanked the rope down, pulling roughly, disguising it as desperation. Or maybe it was. Regardless, one of the officers rolled his eyes and made his way forward. But he was too late. The axe flew and struck its target. Estelle bit her cheek to keep from screaming as she tore a few of her wounds back open. But it was done. The man was free.

Without pause, the man ducked, avoiding a sword to the neck, and struck the officer in the stomach, sending him reeling. As the other officers scrambled to draw their weapons, Estelle watched as the man pulled the axe easily from the wooden post and took out two of the officers before they could react.

He jumped down from the stage, and ran past, grabbing Estelle’s arm and pulling her along. She went willingly, eyeing the man, intrigued. By the time the officers rallied and came after them, they were gone.

They stood in the middle of the woods, hands on knees in the case of the mysterious man, and Estelle watched carefully for any officers that may have tracked them. She could feel herself bleeding again. Great.

The man, meanwhile, straightened up and hopped in front of her to meet her gaze. He had a short beard, long brown hair, and purple eyes. That was surprising. Some fae blood, then?

“Daniel Bloom.” He held out his hand.

Estelle took it. “Well met, Daniel. Estelle.”

“No surname?” He said. Before she even opened her mouth to answer, he smiled. “Mysterious.”

“An escape,” she said sharply.

His smile just grew. “You looking to escape this goddess forsaken country?”

She just snorted. “I thought that was obvious.” She scanned the forest around them again, listening for footsteps, and heard none.

“Come to the Black Countryside with me,” Daniel said cheerily. “It’s a safe haven, for people like us.”

“Criminals?” Estelle asked.

“Sure. That too.” And he started walking off towards the North, whistling cheerily as he went.

Estelle just stared after him for a moment and hurried to follow. “You know I’m not human?”

Daniel didn’t break his stride, just glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. “I suppose you’re quite tall for a human woman. Elf, then?”

She nodded, brushing her hair behind her pointed ears. “I try to hide it. The people here…”

“Are superstitious bastards?” Daniel offered.

“In a sense.”

“Well,” He said after a short pause, “The people of the Black Countryside tend to care more about skill than species. Of course, there are superstitious bastards everywhere, but most people there don’t care so long as you get the job done.”

She supposed that he knew that, with his bright purple eyes marking him as something just sideways of human. “Well, that will suit me fine then,” Estelle said. “I’m no stranger to labor.” That was a lie, but she was a fast learner.

“I’m actually a member of the army over there,” Daniel offered. “They have good benefits. The King is a bit of a dick, but it could be worse.”

“That’s what I thought back home,” Estelle said wryly. She wasn’t entirely sure that she trusted this man or his opinions, but she was willing to give him a chance.

“And where’s that?”

“What?”

“Home.”

Estelle hesitated. There was no easy way to say that you were raised in a cult that continuously failed to predict the final day. She had believed that nonsense for over a decade, questioned it for another two, and was now free and amongst normal folk. She didn’t want to say all of this, of course. But something about Daniel set her at ease. She could see herself becoming his friend.

“I don’t know exactly where,” She started. “I found myself in Melize after I escaped the Conmunis.”

“The Finis Temporum?” Daniel said. He didn’t look surprised, just thoughtful. “We call them that back home. They’re a bit… notorious for their beliefs.”

“It was my home for nearly thirty years,” Estelle told him darkly. She did not appreciate his cavalier tone.

“Of course, I’m just saying. There is a lot of shady business going on there. They kidnap elven children, at least according to some of the Elven Domos. Train them to become killers.”

She raised a brow at her travel companion. “I was born into it. And I am a killer.”

He just grins at her. “So am I.”

And they leave it at that.