He watched her walk away from him. He didn’t know if she was swaying or he was. He could smell blood on the breeze. She picked up speed, and soon she was running over slope and scree, arrows lightly quivering. He marvelled at the way she moved, like she was half elf half . . . panther. Her ebony form seemed to fade in and out of the rocks, the black and brown of the straps and scraps of her clothing the perfect camouflage. Her black hair lay as still as a dark pool, and crossed the land like a shadow of a great bird. I wonder how many men have spent too long looking at her, he wondered, and
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