Ana has been to the forest for the last three days trying to scavenge any plants with medicinal properties to help the patients in the sick bay recover. It was not a job she was expecting to be doing or what was expected from her.

But she doesn't see much of a choice, not after they lost yet another supply cart to the royalists and the medicines for the rebels alongside much wood and rations. Winter is going to be rough this year, and she will do anything to make it easier for all of them.

Which is why, despite the warnings of her colleagues, she has been going to the forest each evening and has stayed her course until midnight came and forced her home. She had thought herself safe, and if not: are more than capable of driving off most attackers.

Unfortunate, then, that the first time she ever found herself in need of defense: not only is she alone, but against an enemy far outside her caliber.

The moment she sees her intruder, Ana recognizes the almost certain doom that hovers over her, though she has no plan on giving it so easily to the woman, to the Hunter.

As if reading her mind, the woman's smile drops for a moment. "I promise you I mean you no harm, Sister."

"You're no sister of mine," Ana rebutted, more out of wariness than anything.

"Then, I promise you no harm, Matriarch," the woman guesses correctly. "Not unless the need arises for me to do so." With a good enough promise beside.

She has heard a lot of this woman, her posters distributed in some kingdoms as co-conspirators in some of the most cruel and successful schemes in the continent.

And despite her roguish smile and devilish attitude, Ana also heard she has never once broken an oath. Assured by that information, she allows herself to drop her defenses and study the woman more closely.

She's wearing a practical set of clothes, with a form-fitting set of leather armor covering her entire body from the neck down. Tied to her neck is a cloak that shines with powerful magic, while hanging from her belt are tools of her trade: daggers, lock picks, potions, rope, and much more mundane tools.

She expected those, which is why her attention is quickly drawn to the woman's body and face—at least, that what she told herself is the reason. She's lean and tall, and no part of her skin is marked by scars besides a strange one beneath her left eye.

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Ana almost reaches out to trace it before a voice stops her: "Like what you see, Matriarch?" voice teasing, but not disapproving of her action.

Caught off-guard, Ana slowly pulls her hand back before gazing into the woman's deep emerald eye with a quiet defiance. "Yes." And honesty in her tone, refusing to lie despite how much it embarrasses her to admit it.

In reply, the woman laughed. The sound was earnest and charming to Ana's ears, so she didn't interrupt her laugh or her attempt at introducing herself right after she was done.

With a practice bow—instead of a curtsy—"The name's Quinn," Quinn introduces herself, hiding a playful smile with her bow. "At your service."

An opposite to Quinn's theatrics. "Article 15, section 3 of the Holy Fire Wartime Conducts." Ana's practiced answers are cold. "No members of the Chapter shall introduce themselves to a third party without confirming beyond the shadow of a doubt the party's affiliation and loyalty."

"Ha! Of course, I understand, Matriarch." Quinn shrugs nonchalantly. "I did just confirm that I am no enemy of yours, though. Did I not?"

"You're a sellsword, Mrs. Nathair."

"Quinn would do just fine, Matriarch. And I am no one's mistress. Unless... you want to make me one?"

"You're a sellsword, Ms. Quinn," Ana repeats, ignoring Quinn's question; eliciting a snort of amusement from Quinn.

"I am," she confirms, making it easier for Ana to get to her point.

"It means you have no loyalty but to the highest bidder."

"Sure!" Again, an affirmative accompanied by a handsome smile, almost distracting Ana from her stance. "I have no loyalty but to the highest bidder." Almost.

"Which means—"

"—I am your ally, Matriarch." Quinn cuts her off. And when Ana eyes her still with suspicion, she relents. "Or will soon be, anyway!"

"How come?"

"I am going to offer my service to Adder inside, and he will accept."

The confidence she imbued in her sentence makes Ana doubt her own judgment. The way Quinn's surprisingly cute face moves slightly to the side as Ana studies her is not helping either.

It's making her ask irrelevant questions, unimportant questions, detracting questions. Questions that are not a matter of the head but of the—"Why?" Ana forces her own questions out, to ignore and stops her train of thought.

"Why?" Quinn echoes in confusion.

"Why would he accept, Ms. Quinn?"

As if waiting for such a question to be asked, Quinn smiles bends knowingly into something more twisted. "Because I will kill a duke for him, free of charge." And when she explains her reasoning, it is not with confidence.

Ana recognized the tone, the way her eyes shone with an almost manic fire as she spoke the sentence. Quinn has faith, not in the world, not in the deities, but in herself.

"I see." Idly, Ana wonders if she can have the same confidence in herself one day, to accompany her resolve. However, she quickly shakes herself out of the thought with a shake of her head.

"Oh! You believe me, then?"

"I see no reason to distrust you."

"Besides the fact that I am a sellsword with no loyalty to anyone but the highest bidder?" she repeats Ana's own words back to her, forcing a small smile out of her as she answers in affirmative: "Yes."

The rest of the journey they spent in a quiet conversation, with Quinn being the one starting and leading all of them until they finally reach camp.

There, they say their goodbye, and with hesitance: separate themselves from each other.