It had the hazy feeling of a dream. The details weren't all there. Objects came into focus, but everything beyond them stayed in the fog. Ferene sat on a chair set on top of a platform. To her left stood Tullund – or rather, a man with Tullund's head, of the approximate height as Tullund. He wore a cloth around his waist, his entire upper body on display. For her, specifically, it seemed. Ferene idly stroked the too-perfect muscles of his right arm, smiling to herself. She knew he was hers, the knowledge invaded her head. She knew it was a dream because she wasn't in control. She was herself, but not herself. She watched herself from inside, unable to control her actions, feeling the feelings and hearing the thoughts of another person in her body.

A man stood in the room in front of her, and her position on her throne let her look down at him. He wore a fancy suit, though she didn't know what was fancy about it. He placed two bags on the floor, they jingled with the sound of coins.

“Is this all you have for me?” She asked, frowning at him. She stopped stroking the dream-Tullund's arm as she leaned forward. “I would hope that your superiors would have sent more.”

The man fidgeted nervously. “Th-this is the amount I was told you agreed upon. To not attack any goods transported for my organization.”

Ferene stood up, stepping down from the platform. A knife materialized in her hand. “Of course, we can agree on an amount, but it's always nice when someone gives you a bit extra, isn't it? You show me a favor or two, so that I know you respect me and mine.” She smiled at him, showing her teeth, as she walked slowly in a circle around him.

“I-I...I have a set amount of bribes, for you, and other leaders along this route. If I were to give you extra, someone else would be shorted.”

Spinning forward, Ferene stepped directly next to the man, her knife almost touching his eye. He flinched back. “I'm sure one or more of those groups is small enough that you can bully them around a little, can't you? I'm very much aware of the private army your organization is building. Perhaps you could give someone a smaller amount, and tell them to be grateful you are trying to avoid conflict instead of simply removing them from the roads you use. You can at least pretend to have that sort of confidence, can't you?”

“W-well...I suppose that's a possibility...I wasn't told to do anything like that but, maybe, there's one or two potential groups that could be intimidated and given a smaller cut.”

“Perfect!” Ferene grinned, twirling backwards, the knife vanishing from her hand. She stopped next to the overly-muscular Tullund, leaning against him as he reached out to catch her. Tossing an arm over his shoulder, she waved the man in the suit away with her other hand. “Go get the rest of what you owe me, and be on your way. I'm tired of looking at you.”

She heard his footsteps walking away as she stared up into Tullund's face, her hand tracing the line of his jaw. He smiled down at her. “Was that wise?”

“If the smaller groups get upset, we can absorb them. Strength in numbers. If they start fighting, the company exhausts resources and is in a worse position against us, and also reveals how organized and trained their troops are. It's a great position for us.”

“Unless they learn we are the ones who set it up and turn on us instead.” His hand gripped her shoulder as she leaned into him, her head resting against his bare chest. She could feel her heart racing, and could hear his doing the same.

“That would be unfortunate, but luckily in our business nobody has a reputation for honesty, and outlaws hate companies more than each other. I think I can lie my way through such a situation. You're talking too much, though.” Reaching upwards, she pulled his head down towards hers, her focus entirely on his lips.

“I have something interesting for you, mistress.” A new voice said.

Sighing with disappointment, Ferene swung to her feet, tapping Tullund's lips with her finger before turning to look at the new arrival. A man with a face she paid no attention to stood next to a short woman wearing a baggy coat. “What's this?”

“Found a wagon, me and the boys went to jump it, but this lady surrendered to us immediately. Seems almost like she was waiting for us. Her story is that she ran a scam – seduced a rich man in the city, begged him to start a new life elsewhere, and when he sold everything and they were on the road together, she stabbed him and dumped the body.”

“And, of course, this sort of scheme is perfect for us, isn't it?” Ferene walked directly towards the girl, reaching out, pulling the coat off of her. The woman underneath was beautiful. Just like Tullund, she was perhaps too perfect. Sharp eyes, a small, cute mouth. A full chest, exposed by the low neckline of her dress. Ferene smiled down at her, and the girl stared upwards into her eyes. “How would you like a job?” She asked, her hand sliding down the girl's black hair.

Ferene woke up, a weight pushing down on her chest. She shook her head, trying to rub her eyes, only to find more weight on her arm. She took a deep breath, and looked around.

The dream wasn't over. Slowly, she extracted herself from the tangle of arms and legs. The overly-attractive Tullund was sleeping on her left, his arm thrown across her, and the nameless girl was cuddled up against her right side, Ferene's arm trapped underneath. When she finally got out of the bed, she smiled as she looked at them. The dream-details weren't there. She smiled because she remembered the three of them, together, before going to sleep, but she couldn't remember a single detail of what actually happened. It had been good, apparently. Ferene turned, pushing aside a curtain and walking through the doorway, out of the room.

She didn't remember how she got into the next room. It was a chamber in a cave, a low ceiling, walls held up by wooden supports. An old mine. Her breathing got faster as she turned. A woman sat on a chair, sewing. Long yellow hair, blue eyes, a small crooked nose. There was a bruise on her left cheek. Which one had that been? Ferene didn't remember. “You got hurt again.”

“You hurt someone again.”

Ferene looked away. “I'm good at hurting people, mother.”

“I never wanted you to hurt people, but every day you were fighting the other children, even some of the adults, when you could. You would come to me and brag about it. How you won. How you were strong. And now look at you. Killing and killing. You used to be covered in scrapes, now you're covered in other people's blood. I wasn't happy when you told me about how you won your play fights, am I supposed to be happy now that you are murdering people? Should I tell you how wonderful the trail of bodies you leave behind you is?”

“Maybe you shouldn't have raised me around a group of thieves and killers!” Ferene yelled at her mother, and the woman just smiled at her. Ferene hated that smile. It was fake. It was fake in real life, when she was a child, and it was fake in this dream. Her mother never meant it when she smiled. She smiled because she had given up.

“And you haven't given up? You were offered a way out, and you went right back in. Are you punishing yourself, or do you just like it?”

“You did this!” She yelled, clenching her fist. “You were the one who put me in that place! You gave me up to those people, before I was even born! Why did you do that? How could you do that?”

The woman sighed, putting down the needle she had been holding. She looked directly at Ferene. “I'm dead. I only exist in your head. I can't tell you anything you don't already know.” She vanished.

Ferene stood still for a moment, then dropped to her knees, her hands reaching at the air in front of her. “You left me again.” She whispered. “I never wanted you to leave me. I wanted you to be proud of me, but you never were. Then you left me.”

She didn't cry. Even in a dream, she couldn't let herself cry. Not anymore. She punched the ground in front of her, dirt covering stone. It didn't hurt. Dreams didn't hurt, except when they did. She couldn't feel pain in her hands, but she could feel something behind her. She looked over her shoulder. Something stood behind her, a towering figure with no face. She looked up into the haze of its head. Features were there, but she couldn't make them out. Eyes, hair, a nose, a mouth. There were no details. Except the ears. The hateful ears. The ears of her father. A non-human creature.

“I hate you! I HATE YOU! YOU LEFT US!” She screamed at him. She was on her feet. For the first time in the dream, she was aware of what she was wearing. She had her armor on, her sword in her hands. She faced her father, swinging. She hated everything about him, everything he was. She knew nothing about him. She didn't know who he was, what he had done. He was the source of all her problems. He was the source of her existence. She hated herself and she hated him.

Again, she woke up. The details were right this time. The smell of dried straw and farm animals. She had paid a pittance to sleep in a barn. No naked bodies flanked her as she pulled herself to her feet. She was already dressed. Her armor and her sword were the only things laying beside her. She collected them, and pushed the side door of the barn open, stepping into the night. She was not transported to the abandoned mine. The sun had yet to rise, the sky black with a scattering of white stars. Ferene sighed. She hated dreaming.

Putting on her armor, she started practicing. A collection of swings, her body moving, following the sword. Power and control. Metal slicing air. She breathed in, swung, and breathed out. She twirled and ducked, dodging and parrying invisible attacks, swinging at invisible foes. She focused only on that, pushing the dream from her mind.

As the sun rose, she came to a halt. Everything hurt. How long had she been doing this? Standing in a field, panting, sweat soaking her clothes. What was the purpose of it all? She could have ran away from it all, if she wanted. The dream was right. Every time she had a chance to stop, she avoided it.

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The other part of the dream was also right. Tempting. Taunting. She was strong. Stronger than the people she killed. Why did she need to kill when she could conquer? She could build her own group, steal things she wanted, intimidate people into serving her. Take what she wanted, who she wanted. Gain followers and make entire cities serve her.

Until the she'd wind up running naked through a forest, chased by someone angry at the kind of person she had become. Maybe it would be Linara, chasing her down just as she had chased the woman all those nights ago. If anyone found the body at the bottom of that well, they wouldn't know how many things the woman had stolen, how many followers, how long her reach and influence were. Ferene would end the same way. Dropping her sword, she sank down to her knees.

Forward. She needed to keep moving. A dream wasn't going to make her stop, no matter how many options it suggested. There were too many wrongs in the world for her to right, too many evil people for her to kill, but that wouldn't stop her. Every step mattered. She grabbed her sword, pushing herself to her feet.

Covered in sweat or dirt or blood, she would not stop. She would find someone else to kill. There was always someone else taking advantage of the weak, the helpless. There were always people like her mother who would never fight back, no matter how much they were abused. For those people, she needed to fight. To kill.

There was no road leading north of Cefgras. Instead, Ferene followed the road west, until she came upon farmland. She walked north then, off the road, crossing through the fields, keeping the mountains in front of her. When she came upon a farmhouse after several days of travel, she asked if could sleep in the barn.

Going out of her way and asking felt strange, unfamiliar. She never would have done that before. She also never would have had such a strange dream before. Sitting on a barrel of straw in the barn, Ferene rubbed her eyes. Her body was still sore, she was tired even though it was early, and she didn't want to don her armor and start walking across the fields again. Maybe the mountains could wait another day.

A young boy entered the barn, noisily pushing the front door open. The owner's son walked in, ignoring Ferene in her corner. The barn was split into two halves, one side, where Ferene sat, filled with barrels of hay and some loose straw – the owner told Ferene she could gather this to use as a bed – and the other half divided into pens occupied by several pigs. The young boy went from pen to pen, pouring grain into each one, mumbling to the pigs as he went by. At the end, he turned around and walked directly towards Ferene. “Ma say yecan 'ave brefist wit us, if ye wan.” He stopped quite a distance away, and gave her an awkward smile. She nodded back at him, and he turned to leave.

Breakfast in the farmhouse, with the family of three, involved a lot more food than at any of the roadside inns Ferene had stayed at. The owner's wife filled the table with plates of eggs, bacon, and ham, none of which interested Ferene. She realized that it would have been smart to ask Linara if all Hatharen became sick after eating animals, but it was far too late for that now. She accepted the cooked oats and sliced potatoes, eating silently as the three of them talked about various things. There was a gap in one of the fences that the man planned to go and repair, the child was told he needed to bring all the chickens inside earlier, the woman talked about having to fix one of the boards on the back porch, then mentioned that there had been less people on the road recently, at which all three of them turned to look at Ferene.

“Didn't see anyone on my way here. Is that unusual?”

The man shared a long, silent look with his wife, as the boy started chattering. “Road usual 'ave plenny o yerds onnit, this tima. Iffit ain't, is cause the scummers are out, innit da?”

The boy’s father glared at him. “Say that again, properly this time. We are going to send you to school in Cefgras when you are old enough, and they won't allow you to talk that way there.”

“All me friends talk thaway, ain't no prollem.”

The glare became sharper. “Repeat what you said to our guest, properly, and I'll give you a gift. If you don't, I'll make you walk the pigs tomorrow. And don't call them yerds, it's rude.”

The boy's expression brightened at the mention of a gift, and then stiffened when he was told he'd have to walk the pigs. Turning back to Ferene, he took a deep breath.

“The road usually has merchants on it. If they aren't on the road, the...the thieves chased them off.”

“Good lad. Finish eating, take care of the chickens, and then come back for your present.”

It took the child very little time to finish the food on his plate, stow it, and run outside, stepping loudly on the loose board outside the back door of the house. His father turned to Ferene. “Group of riffraff showed up a year ago, claiming this entire area was their territory. They come by here every few months demanding money or an equivalent amount of food, in exchange for their 'protection'. I pay them, just as everyone else, but we all know they are just thieves. Armed thieves, and enough of them that even if all the farmers out here got together we couldn't beat them. No authority in this area so we just have to let it happen. You've got swords and armor, but don't go making any trouble for us, alright? If you do anything to them, they'll think some of us put you up to it, and we'll be the ones that suffer for it. Just be on your way and nobody will get hurt. We can afford to give up a little, at least for now, until it sorts itself out.”

Ferene clenched her jaw. Somehow, he had known what she wanted to do, and told her not to. He seemed to think she wouldn't be able to kill all of them. Before, she would have ignored him and gone after them anyway. Not now, though. She simply nodded, and took another bite of oats.

The gift turned out to be a small book. The boy found Ferene sitting in her corner of the barn, trotting over to her holding it in both hands, a wide smile on his face. “Da went to mend the fence, and Ma is busy so she told me to ask if you want to read with me.”

“I never learned how to read.”

He stopped, his smile dropping as he looked at her in confusion. “But you got a sword an everything.”

“It was important for me to learn to use a sword. Wasn't important for me to learn to read, so nobody taught me.”

He frowned for several moments, looking at her, then at the book, then back at her. Finally, he smiled again. “I can read to you. Da and Ma say they will read it witme but they jus 'ave me read an' correct me when I get things wrong. So I can just read to ya.” His excitement leaked into his voice, and he started chattering quickly again. Ferene found herself smiling back at him. Nobody had ever offered to read to her before, and his mood was infectious. She gestured for him to sit next to her. He climbed up on the barrel of hay and opened the book. It was large, thin, and filled with pictures. He pointed to the words on the first page, and started reading, talking slow and properly.

The Crow and the Rabbit.

The crow and the rabbit both live near the farm.

The crow can fly, and the rabbit can hop.

The crow and the rabbit are wild things.

The crow makes nests, and the rabbit digs holes.

The crow and the rabbit are very different.

The crow is black, and the rabbit is brown.

The crow and the rabbit both fear the hawk.

The crow flies away, and the rabbit hides.

The crow and the rabbit will come back when the hawk is gone.

The crow and the rabbit are not the same.

A crow will never be a rabbit.

A rabbit will never be a crow.

Even so, they both live near the farm and they both fear the hawk.

Each line was alone on page, with a drawing of the animals. The boy closed the book at the end, then turned it over, back to the front.

“What does it mean?” Ferene asked.

“Dunno.” He said. “Da doesn't like the rabbits much. They steal food, but he says without them, the bigger creatures that eat them would go hungry. Says it's better to have rabbits around for the foxes to eat than have the foxes trying to eat the chickens.”

The story didn't make sense to Ferene at first, and that didn't help at all. Were all books nonsensical like that?

“I have to go back now. Ma says you'll leave tomorrow. Is that true?”

“Probably tonight.”

“Will ya come to the house an see me 'fore ya go?”

“Maybe.”

“Promise ya will.”

Ferene paused, thinking. “I promise, I'll come to the house before I leave.”

On her way to the house that evening, Ferene heard voices and stopped to listen. She hadn't heard any yelling before, and the new voice didn't match the family. Slowly, she crept closer, as silently as she could with all of her gear on.

“You only have yourselves to blame. If people are hunting us, it's because you lousy grubbers hired them to. So, you'll have to pay up for that.” The new voice said.

“I'm telling you, we don't know what you're talking about, and you already stopped by here two weeks ago. We gave you what we owe.” That was the man's voice, slightly shaking. Ferene carefully stepped up onto the back porch, careful to avoid the loose board.

“Don't care what you say you do or don't know. What I know is that one of my friends came back instead of four, and he says the other three got killed by some bounty hunters. Now, who would have hired bounty hunters out here, if not but you dirt grubbers? We had a good deal going on, but now people are getting hurt. If you can afford to be paying bounty hunters to kill my friends, you can afford to give us an extra cut to make up for our losses.”

“If we pay you twice as much we're going to have problems once the snows come.”

“You know, that makes sense. A lot of sense. Have a growing kid to feed, and you two as well, don't you? Maybe thinking of making another brat, and will need to feed that one as well? I know you grubbers love to have as many kids as you can. So, I'll help you out. I'll take the kid off your hands. If he can hold a shovel he can hold a sword, as I like to say. Then you can pay us properly, since you'll have one less mouth to feed. Works out well, doesn't it?”

“No! Please don't take my son! We'll give you the food and money, just leave him."

Ferene heard a yelp from inside. She stood next to the back door, her entire body tense. She wanted more than anything to run inside and start swinging her sword, but she had agreed not to.

“No? You don't get to tell me what to do. I'm taking him, and you're paying me to do it. As I said before, I'm helping you.”

“Help!” Ferene heard the boy cry out.

“Nobody is here to help you, kid.”

“HELP!” This time, it was the mother.

“Shut your wife up.”

“I hope someone kills you.” The man said, loudly. “I hope someone cuts you down tonight, if violence is all you know.” That was all Ferene needed. Pulling her short sword from her belt, she pushed the back door open and stepped into the house.

“Oh, and who is going to do that? Not you, that's for sure, dumb dirt grubber.” A tall man, taller than Ferene, was holding a knife in one hand, and the boy's wrist in the other. Ferene was looking at him from the side, and he was waving the knife in front of him, probably at the boy's parents, who were out of her line of sight. The boy turned, looking directly at Ferene, his eyes wide.

“Help! Help me!” He yelled, and started struggling, grabbing the man's hand with his own.

The man pushed the boy to the ground, roughly. “You little-” The words were barely out of his mouth when Ferene drove her sword into his chest.

“There are three more of them outside.” The farmer said, holding his wife. The woman was staring at the scene in front of her, her face pale. Ferene nodded, and opened the door.

There were three others outside, standing around a horse loaded with bags. Ferene ran at them, not even bothering to switch to her other sword. They turned to look at her, but it was too late. She drove her short sword into the first one's gut. The second drew his axe and Ferene pulled her sword off her back, holding it in both hands. The third turned and ran, pulling the horse with him.

The one with the axe stepped forward, swinging wide. Ferene also stepped forward, into a range where neither of their weapons were effective, and smacked her head into his nose. He stumbled back, and she quickly kicked him in the leg, dropping him onto his rear. In a single swing of her sword, she separated his head from his body, then ran after the last one.

Ferene specialized in running, and this man stood no chance of outrunning her, especially when he was dragging the old, poorly tended to packhorse behind him. Ferene caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around and pinning him to the ground. The horse kept running down the road, but she didn't care.

“Where is your camp?”

“I-I won't tell you! Just let me go!”

Pulling out her knife, she stabbed the man in his upper arm. He screamed. Ferene ignored it. “Where is your camp?”

“You're crazy!”

She twisted the knife. “Where?”

“Two days walk down the road, there's a trail that leads to an old mine! It's there! Please just let me go!”

Ferene pulled the knife out of his arm and slit his throat.