"And a good morning to you all!" A thin voice rasped angrily.

A lean figure stood silhouetted against the glaring morning light atop the stairs that led out into an already waking world.

Madam Dellah Talworth.

With the sharp clack of her heels, the old woman descended the wooden steps. She held her head high, harsh grey eyes sweeping over every face ducking down like scolded children.

And when the old woman's eyes locked with Arani's, a terrible chill ran up the young woman’s spine.

"Miss Lockefur!" The old woman barked.

Immediately the drunken crowd saw their chance and dispersed. Men and women alike rushed up the stairs, stumbling over each other and pushing to avoid the wrath Arani was about to face.

Arani staggered to her feet. She casted a glance over her shoulder to—

Lily was gone.

Quickly, her eyes darted to the retreating crowd, but the fortune teller and her odd friends could not be seen. But a certain Lon Talworth could be, his head ducked and freckled cheeks flushed as the large man meant to sneak past his grandmother. Behind Lon, Arani could also make out a certain pointy-eared and tailed trickster.

Those bastards!

A bony hand forcefully seized Arani by the ear and gave it a hard twist. "I have had enough of you indulging in such barbaric practices!"

Lon and Teal barely made it up the first few steps before old Dellah called out to them without even bothering to turn around. Arani swore that woman had eyes on the back of her head.

"Lon Talworth!" The old woman's voice cracked like a whip. "Do you take me for some blind old bat?"

"Not at all!" Teal piped up, not wanting to miss an opportunity. "We just take you for old!"

A new kind of fear settled over Arani as Dellah turned on her heel and leveled a hard look at the duo. And even while seething with anger, her tone remained level when she spoke. "And a good morning to you Miss Melbette. Since you seem well rested, perhaps you can assist Mister Orrin with his morning appointments?"

Teal's face fell, pointy ears dipping slightly and tail tucking around his leg. Lon snickered into his hand and elbowed Teal.

"And you!" Dellah then snapped at her grandson. Lon nearly jumped three feet in the air. "You are to meet with the head mason. Now!"

Lon groaned loudly and threw his head back. His speech was still slurred. "Grandma Dellah, be kind to me. I'm black and blue all over!"

"Then I'll add some purple for good measure! Get to it!"

Teal and Lon quickly scrambled up the rest of the steps, pushing and cursing at each other as Dellah stalked after them angrily, with Arani being yanked along behind her.

The old cantankerous witch did not possess a single merciful bone in her body as she hauled Arani Lockefur, rather painfully, up the creaking wooden stairs and out of the half-finished house where their nightly brawls were hosted.

Outside, the bright morning sunlight was just as unforgiving as the old woman. It caused a dull throb to settle behind Arani's eyes as she tried to blink through the obnoxiously blinding rays. No doubt the ale's effects were beginning to wane. All she could do was squint in the sunlight and watch as Teal and Lon quickly shuffled off to their assigned tasks.

All along the way, Dellah prattled on, scolding Arani as she dragged the girl by the ear through the dirt streets of the Dragon's Den— a quaint little settlement slowly being build from the ground up.

Builders were already hard at work, hammering out the skeletal foundations of new homes for the refugees squatting on the land. The hard clack of hammer head meeting wooden posts did no favors to the ache pounding behind Arani's eyes. Dellah's sharp voice also did not help.

"You are taking years off of my life, girl! When will you learn to act like a proper lady and stop running off to drink and flaunt among the men half-naked!"

Arani rolled her eyes. "I don't flaunt, I fight them! And there are other women there too!"

Dellah clicked her tongue in response and gave Arani's ear another twist. "Distasteful. You were raised as a lady. Try to act like one."

Down the dirt road, an old red bricked manor sat— the statehouse. It was initially the first and only standing building in the glen. A simple white flag hung over the moss spotted bricks. Stitched expertly into the stark fabric was a big orange dragon with speckled blue scales curled around the base of a tree, clutched tight in its claws was a sparkling blue jewel.

The creature was the settlement's mascot and imaginary protector. Farren Stone was the one who came up with the fearsome beast. He had stitched the flag himself with the help of his sister, Rose, and they had both lovingly named it Rikuto.

Oh please! Save me from this cruel witch's wrath, Rikuto! Arani pleaded silently to the flag.

But alas, the dragon only looked on solemnly with sad blue eyes as Arani was hauled up the stone steps and into the statehouse by the wicked witch.

"Upstairs immediately young lady! I want you washed and changed into some decent clothes!" The old woman ordered sternly. "You need to attend this meeting with Sandros Platt about town developments. Ordinances need to be set!"

Inside the statehouse, the permanent smell of dust and age settled in Arani's nose. Crates of supplies were stacked in no particular order in the foyer. A dusty brass chandelier hung unlit above the main staircase— steps wooden and dressed in a simple plum colored carpet.

When and how the old house was built was a mystery to everyone who lived in the Dragon's Den. There was no sign of the original owners– no papers or portraits to be found. The house just merely...existed.

Dellah marched Arani up the stairs, their footsteps muffled by the carpet.

"I don't see why I have to attend these meetings!" Arani groaned.

"Your father was a lord and master of ships." Dellah lectured. She clicked her tongue again. "Honestly what would your father say if he saw you wasting your life away getting drunk and wrestling with those ruffians?"

Arani looked thoughtful for a moment, or at least pretended to. "Don't suppose he would say much at all. The poor sap's corpse is too busy choking on dirt."

Arani was rewarded with a hard rap across the temple.

"I wish you could spend one day of your life sober!" Dellah snapped. With the her free hand, she threw open the door to a small bedroom and yanked the girl inside.

Thankfully, the old woman's gnarled fingers released Arani, and she quickly stumbled away from Dellah rubbing her sore ear.

"Wash up and put some proper lady-like clothes on. " Dellah commanded. She walked over to an oak dresser and grabbed a ceramic pitcher of water, and poured it into a matching wash basin.

A soaked washcloth was shoved in Arani's face and the girl did as she was told, but not with too much effort.

Once she was deemed clean enough, she haggled with the old crone for at least a clean shirt. Dellah insisted that Arani should wear a nice blue dress to meet Sandros.

Arani insisted she would sooner throw herself off a cliffside.

Much to Arani's favor, they agreed on a clean shirt and a pair of boots.

And just as soon as she was tucking her now prized shirt into her pants, Arani was hauled out into the hallway, this time by the crook of her arm. They marched down towards a set of wooden doors, and Arani knew beyond that was the drawing room where they held their daily meetings. A low groan rose from her chest.

Waiting by the top of the main stairs, a stout man with a shaved head and barely a dusting of a mustache above his lip stood patiently. His splotchy red face beamed at Arani and Dellah when he noticed them approach.

"Mister Platt." Dellah greeted politely. Her smile was pleasant but her eyes remained stern.

"A good morning to you Madam Dellah!" Sandros greeted cheerfully. He nodded to Arani, who waved back far too casually. "And you as well Miss Arani."

"Will anyone else be joining us today?" Dellah inquired.

Arani hated how the old bag would play nice. It was such a cruel farce that too many naive souls in the Dragon's Den would fall for, but Arani knew the witch's true colors!

The poor deceived Sandros just smiled, lifting his soft chin in pride. "Would you believe I managed to snag the Guild Master to meet with us?"

Arani blinked in surprise. "Farren?"

Sandros' smile grew wider and he walked with them to the double doors– a hand rested on the brass knob. "He was a slippery one, but I sent my darling Prissy after him last night with the invitation."

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

Dellah and Arani exchanged glances. A singular wordless realization dawned between them.

Oh no.

Poor Sandros Platt was a recently acquired asset to the settlement. He was a retired town sheriff and he and his daughter, Priscilla Platt, had only been residents in the Den for less than a month.

So, poor Sandros Platt, who was oblivious to the scene that was awaiting him as he turned the doorknob. The door swung inwards without a squeak—without warning.

The drawing room was large and vacant, tall paned windows filtered in bright morning sun and silhouetted the curved figure of a young maiden blushing and panting on the edge of a lone table. Maps, markers, and carved replicas were knocked aside and littered across the floor as the girl sought to steady herself—auburn curls bounced free of once neat braids. Her elegant pink skirts were hiked up over her knees and nestled between them...

"MISTER FARREN STONE!!" Dellah shrieked.

The poor girl, Arani truly felt bad for her, squealed in surprise and seized a fistful of long blonde hair before yanking a head out from between her soft thighs.

Farren Stone fell backwards, hard against the wooden floor with a wolfish grin plastered to his face.

Arani snorted loudly behind her hand, and failed to suppress a laugh.

Sandros gaped in shock, but that did not stop his splotchy face from turning a very angry red.

"Good morning!" Farren chirped. His tone was far too casual for a man who was caught with his nose up the sheriff's daughter.

Prissy, mortified, ducked her head and smoothed out her dress. "Excuse me." She managed to squeak quietly before rushing out of the room.

Farren on the other hand, completely unashamed, pushed himself to his feet and adjusted his hunting leathers. He gave Arani a once-over, his pale blue eyes glittered with amusement.

"You look like hell." He remarked.

Arani puffed her chest out, all her irritation and fear forgotten in the moment. "Ten rounds. Undefeated."

Farren crossed his arms, smile widening. "You did not!"

Arani stood straighter, tossing her chin up. She was tall, as tall as most men but Farren stood a whole head taller than most men. But there were times Farren seemed like more than just a man.

"Perhaps if you hadn't buried your snout in Prissy's bosom you would have seen it!" Arani snarked.

Farren crowed out a laugh. "You're just lucky you didn't have to fight me–

"You're lucky I don't clout the devil out of both of you!" Dellah snapped angrily, stomping her foot down.

Arani could have sworn the old house creaked in fear at the old woman's wrath.

Sandros too managed to find his voice again. He sputtered angrily as his face turned another furious shade. "W-Why you lecherous snake! I will see you punished for defiling my daughter!!"

The shorter man advanced on Farren, thick meaty hands curled tight into fists, but Farren retreated towards the window and threw it open.

He stood on the ledge striking a heroic figure, though Arani knew he hardly was one.

"It has been truly wonderful doing business with you all," Farren laughed heartily, "but I would rather be elsewhere."

He looked to Arani, eyes sparkling and that terrible devilish smirk on his lips. He then gave his signature flirty wink and fell out of the second story of the statehouse.

Dellah and Sandros shouted in alarm and rushed to the window like the angry fools they were.

Arani herself decided to seize this blessed opportunity and slowly inched back towards the doors. Like hell she was staying to ride out that mess of a meeting.

Quickly, Arani turned on her heel and sprinted off. Her boots clopped heavily as she went down the stairs two at a time.

"Arani Lockefur! Get back here this instant!!" She heard Dellah yell angrily.

And when Arani reached the front door she threw it open and ran off into the bustling clamor of the Dragon's Den.

She didn't stop running until she reached the blacksmith's forge—the farthest she could get without running past the gates. A giddy laugh bubbled up from within her and she stretched her muscles in the morning sun. The warming spring air was also welcome, especially after they had barely made it through the last wintery months.

Arani gazed out at the settlement before her and she could see that progress was slowly being made. A few houses (including the one with their not-so-secret fighting ring) were close to being finished, and foundation was being laid for a few more buildings. Wherever there wasn't construction, there were tents and cook-fires.

Farren soon emerged from a nearby tent, that playful smile still upon his lips.

"My lady!" He called out happily.

Arani rolled her eyes at the nickname, but she still smiled at her friend. "You idiot. How could you sleep with Sheriff Platt's daughter?"

Farren shrugged casually. "Didn't ask for her name, and you're welcome. After all, I could have just left you in their clutches."

"And I'm grateful you didn't." Arani shuddered.

Farren's pale eyes gleamed mischievously as he shouldered his longbow. It was truly a wicked thing, polished black wood held together by a series of leather straps and braces. The bowstring itself was finely braided with a material Arani had yet to recognize, and Farren was keen on keeping it a secret. All she knew was that it was a weapon built by Farren and only for Farren. No other man could wield it.

"Either way," Farren sighed, "it's cruel of them to trap you with such mundane work."

Arani pulled at her shoulders a bit, they still felt a tad sore. "They think too highly of me."

"It's all stuffy noble work." Farren said, wrinkling his nose. "Your talents are better suited elsewhere!"

Arani raised a brow at the man. "Enlighten me, Mister Stone."

She did her best to mimic Dellah's sharp tone.

Farren cringed, but then laughed heartily, his canines sharp and exposed in his toothy grin. He tapped the quiver at his hip with a long calloused finger. "Like hunting perhaps?"

Arani clicked her tongue. "Another one who wishes to use my talents for themselves!"

Farren gasped in shock and quickly dropped to his knees, clutching at Arani's legs. "My lady! Be merciful!"

She let him grovel for a moment, even if it was all a playful act, Arani enjoyed it all the same.

"Then admit it!" Arani commanded, falling into the posh accent of nobility. "Declare these words to me!"

"Yes! Yes of course!" Farren bowed his head dramatically. "My lady, your knotwork is unparalleled! I trust no one else to lay snares or watch my back! You are truly a gift to this settlement and I would be deeply honored for you to bestow a lowly worm such as myself a glimpse at your talents!"

Arani snorted approvingly and flicked Farren on the head. "Then you may rise, worm."

The ranger jumped to his feet, still smiling that infectious smile. "Sometimes I think that accent of yours is far too convincing. Put a dress on you and you would make the very queen blush!"

Arani elbowed him in the side, and dropped the accent. "Don't even joke!"

Farren shrugged. "Nah, you're much better than those snooty rich bastards. I could never imagine you rubbing elbows with lords and ladies."

Arani cringed inwardly. If only Farren knew of her noble lineage, but perhaps it was best he didn't.

"No matter!" Farren said. He waved a hand casually as if he was actually sweeping the topic aside. "Before we embark, I have something for you."

"Farren–

Arani began to protest, but Farren held up a finger to silence her as he dug into one of the leather pouches on his belt.

How on earth that man had found out when her birthday was in the time they had known each other was still a mystery to Arani.

"You can't say no." Farren insisted. "I spent weeks learning how to smith something other than arrowheads for once."

He pulled out a small silver pendant dangling on a black braided leather cord and presented it to Arani proudly. "Sorry it's not silver. All I could scrounge up was scraps of iron."

Heat flushed Arani's cheeks as she blinked stunned at the gift. The pendant had been delicately crafted into the shape of a hawk with its wings spread wide. It was almost similar to the bird that was stitched onto the jacket Arani had worn when she had first met Farren.

She had been younger then, also one or two sizes smaller, and a lot angrier. Her family's coat of arms, a silvery osprey leering angrily out at the world, had greeted Farren when he stumbled upon Arani. It was seven against one in a back-alley tavern. Losing her family and her home had been a fresh wound on her heart, and all she felt back then was rage.

The jacket eventually faded and was outgrown, but the anger stayed.

Farren took his chance, and stepped behind Arani to fasten the necklace around her neck.

"Happy birthday." He whispered softly.

Arani's heart skipped a beat and she couldn't fight the smile that pulled at her lips. "Farren, you bastard. I told you to forget my birthday."

"And I never forget a birthday."

Arani rolled her eyes and jabbed an elbow back into his stomach. Farren laughed and gave her a playful shove forward.

"Shall we venture off then, my lady? I've got your gear ready to go."

An uneasy feeling returned and gnawed at the bottom of Arani's gut. Lily's careful words whispered in her mind.

Your shadow is catching up to you. It circles your patch of dirt.

She found herself looking out to the line of thick trees that surrounded their settlement. Arani had always known dangerous things lurked out there, especially at night.

And yet in the early morning light...there was the feeling of something dark looming– waiting.

Farren dropped an already packed knapsack into her arms. It was enough to snap her out of her thoughts.

"Let's go! Or that old witch will have our ears for breakfast!"

Arani's tension eased back again and she managed a chuckle. She hated how easily that man could make her laugh.

"Fine." She laughed. "Let's go get piss drunk off of our wineskins and chase around some poor animals."

Farren barked out his own laugh and clapped her hard on the shoulder. "That sounds perfect!"

With her nerves a little lighter, Arani went into the forge to acquire her own short bow and a quiver. She bid good morning to the elven smith, Tor, that banged away on her anvil with a practiced hand. As she held a light conversation with the smith, Arani found herself lingering a moment by a barrel of sheathed swords. Something instinctual told her she would need one.

Something told her that perhaps they would be the ones hunted instead.

The image of the black unicorn flashed in her mind. Death.

Arani grabbed a sword and buckled it to her belt.