Kara cuddled into Mors' chest; her need to be close to him overriding the sadness she felt about irritating his wounds as the demon sat up and surveyed the rolling, grassy hills that surrounded them.

Lifting her head up, she gazed into Mors' eyes, tears pooling at the edges of her own. "Mors I..."

Mors looked down and leant forward, placing a kiss on her forehead before he realised what he was doing. Shocked he pulled back but the demoness followed, quickly placing her lips on his own as she hugged him with all her strength.

Pulling back, the tears she held back started to flow. "You didn't have to make a pact for my sake. Mors I lo-"

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"I didn't," he replied, shocked at what had just happened, not wanting the demoness to voice what he feared more than anything. Attachment.

Lifting his arm, he showed her his cracked hand and the fading red snake tattoo.

Kara's pupils narrowed. "They're dead?"

Mors nodded and moved forward resting his chin on her shoulder as he started to succumb to exhaustion. "I promised to kill them. That is the pact I made. The elf made her own, incorrect, assumptions."

"What do we do now?" asked Kara, realising that Mors had played one of the oldest of demon tricks, though it was more based on the laws of Magic. Intent and imagination over definition. It was how her kind survived and even prospered, even when technically enslaved to another.

"I think healing is a priority." Mors gaze hardened as he stared as the sun started to disappear behind the hills. "Then... we hunt."