"Ungrateful Traitor!"

Nahuatl jerked awake, gasping from his pathetic bed roll. Over the course of the night dew had seeped in causing him to shiver in the cold. He pulled the damp blanket closer but it wasn't of much use. The former Priest hissed a small word which fell like a load stone and became fire when it hit the ground. He didn't know much about survival since he had been pampered since birth. And he didn't make friends well, since he tended to think them morons. So he was here all alone with only what he could steal or take.

Any other man might have given up but Nahuatl wouldn't. Or couldn't. Rage burned in him too deep for him to give up. He wanted revenge on the man who did this to him. The man who had cast him out of the city. The High Priest. This was all his fault. He man was jealous, greedy and afraid. He saw Nahuatl as a rival and sought to destroy him before Nahuatl became High Priest in his stead. A better High Priest then his master had ever been.

Nahuatl chaffed his hands over the flame to warm them. His curious blue eyes that once marked him peered into the darkness. There was still an hour or so before the sun rose. He could feel it in his bones. One of the side effects of being the Priest to the Sun God Solaris. Once warm enough the young man gathered his few belongings and started off again looking this time for better shelter.

Though the child never responded to anything but an order, Xalia still found comfort in muttering to her dolls through the night and day. "Nearly day, now, Junedith," she cooed to the suspiciously clean, blonde girl behind her. The child, who looked to be no older than eight or nine years, wore a simple blue dress and a neutral expression. She said nothing. "I need to stop and sleep." But there brought about the trouble of finding some place safe to do so; no matter how off the beaten path the witch and her doll were, it was suspicious to find a woman and a girl alone, sleeping, with nothing but themselves and Xalia's brown satchel of books, and her now small, unanimated doll. If someone were to find them, death would be immediate for Xalia. "I really ought to find somewhere to settle," she mused, as she and Junedith walked. They had been traveling without any direction for some time now- weeks, perhaps?

Still Junedith said nothing. Xalia never expected her to, but paused to look at her, and point at an area of the cliff wall they were walking along. "Do you see that?" The girl looked at the wall, then at Xalia, blankly. "There is a divet, behind those leaves." She started to it, and pushed back various foliage to expose a space just large enough for herself and Junedith to enter, so long as they crawled. Had it not existed, Xalia would have theoretically been able to push at the cliff wall to make it, but the effort would have been overtaxing. The witch would have passed out, or died, had she attempted to do so much in the condition she was in. Junedith came and held the leaves and small bush back while the witch crawled in. Xalia managed to sit, albeit hunched, and face the entrance. "Come."

Junedith followed without a word. The bush and leaves swayed as the child let them go to sit. She sat along a side, with her legs stretched across the width of the small area. The two met eyes, and the girl went limp; the half life that had been in her eyes vanished, and she slumped. The witch's smile was replaced by an expression of shock a moment later; she could hear someone walking. An animal? But taking that chance was still a risk. She raised a hand towards the flora at the entrance of her little cave; instantly, it stilled, but perhaps whoever was out there was close enough and saw it. Did I remember to dissolve our tracks? Xalia couldn't remember, but it was most likely too late to remedy that, now. She hadn't sensed anyone; they must have come from the other direction. The witch threw a glamour of darkness across Junedith and herself, and held her breath, but felt fear. If they were smart, they would find her; she had to hope that she would be smart enough to escape if the situation turned deadly.

Nahuatl cursed and swore as he stumbled through the under brush. He wasn't meant to be wandering around in the wild. His hands and feet were scratched from sharp leaves and other vines. Who knew that leaves were sharp enough to cut. Almost as good as it old obsidian knife. That had been a good blade. It had slit many people's throats with ease. But he had to leave it behind. He had had no time to go back for any of his belongings thanks to the wench.

The cliff wall he had been following appeared to go nowhere. And indeed, with Nahuatl's luck it probably did lead nowhere. However it was the only thing to follow and he had no desire to strike off blind. Nahuatl stumbled again and cussed as he foot somehow managed to get stuck under a plant. He tugged at it without much success. He could set it on fire, but he'd burn himself in the process. Solaris didn't care much what burned as long as it burned. He was a uncaring God. In the respect that he only cared for himself and no one else.

Nahuatl crouched down and tugged on the plant instead of his leg. It was thicker than an average vine, but not tree root. Quite frankly he had no idea what he was caught on. Finally, tired and disgusted he plopped down. Slightly awkwardly to not hurt his leg. He laid back on the cool ground and stared upwards. The sun was still in the sky. Even with his eyes closed he could point to it. Yet, what would the sun do for him? Nothing. Nahuatl sighed long enough that he probably sighed away all his happiness. Not that he cared. Revenge was all he had left.

Had she heard correctly? Xalia was guessing at best, but if she didn't know, she would have thought that he was stuck. True enough, she could see the tip of a boot from under the bush that sealed away her little alcove. After some tugs, the owner of the boot sat down on the ground, from the sounds of it. The witch started to breath, slowly. Perhaps she was the one who was the predator! There wasn't much that Xalia could do with a hostage, admittedly, but it was still a better option than praying to a murdered god that she stay hidden.

With as little disturbance as she could make, Xalia opened her satchel and pulled out a small knife. It was more suited for cutting fruits and plants than it was for cutting flesh, but it was still a sharp weapon. Carefully, the witch placed the wooden handle into Junedith's open palm. The girl, as though she were shocked by the wall behind her, jerked to life. Her small hand tightened around the knife, and she poised herself on the balls of her feet at the entrance of their hole.

"Catch them. Try not to harm them," Xalia said, under her breath. Junedith did not acknowledge that she heard the command, but rather jumped out of the hole. It was rather awkward, as the child had to adjust herself sideways once in sight, but she had surprise with her and knelt on the man's chest with the knife against his neck, completely expressionless. Xalia crawled out after her, a moment later, and kneeled next to the man's head. She grinned down at him. "What can you offer me?"

Nahuatl was just about to sit back up and try to free himself once more when a child jumped out of the foliage and landed on. Since he was already on the ground it was easy for the girl child to position herself with a knife to his throat. His first thought was that he was going to die. Then his next was that he wasn't. He opened his mouth, words of power on the tip of his tongue. It would all come down to what was quicker. His tongue or the child's knife.

The only thing that stopped them from finding out was a second person coming into view. Nahuatl had liked the day a lot more before these two people showed. They were both dirty and ragged. Not the sort of people he would associate with back in the city. He didn't even consider that they probably were cleaner than him.

What can you offer me?

Nahuatl swallowed the words of power. Instead he said: "Why should I offer anything to a filthy bandit?" Despite his prone position he tried to pull himself tall, straight and regal. He was a Priest, a man of power and respect. He shouldn't have to barter for his life with a pair of ragtag scoundrels. He inhaled deeply and prepared to speak of fire and power.

The man, though pinned by a child and laying down, did his best to look tall. He looked offended enough to pass for a Solarian priest, Xalia had to admit. "Why should I offer anything to a filthy bandit?" was the first thing that he asked. Xalia laughed, and Junedith continued to stare at him with lifeless eyes. Did he think himself so high and mighty above them? This was no Solarian hunter, or else they would already be dead- and besides, the man didn't dress like any hunter she'd seen.

"Well, you aren't much cleaner than us, if you haven't noticed, and my dolly here has a knife to your throat. Should take her naught but a moment to silence you, which she will, if you try anything," Xalia pointed out. "You should offer me something in exchange for you life. So, ser, what can you offer me?"

Still- this was a strange way for someone with a blade on their neck to act. Perhaps he was a hunter of some sort. "She is faster than your tongue or hands," the witch added, to assure her now-prisoner that he couldn't kill them. The grin, however, had come off of her face, and no she waited quietly for an answer.

Nahuatl only didn't squirm because of years of discipline. The young man remained as regal as he could pinned to the dirty ground. Of course being laughed at while under imminent death didn't make him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Yet he wouldn't give up. Couldn't. No matter what he was coming out on top. He had no qualms about killing, or even maiming, either of these women. Though he was beginning to think the one on him wasn't alive. And his suspicions were confirmed by the loquacious woman. Witch. Nahuatl tagged her.

Nahuatl watched the talking woman even after she had fallen silent. She wanted him to speak, yet his words were his most powerful weapon. If he played them right. He could blast the girl-doll off him with one word. Yet such power would encompass him also. And he had no desire to be burnt to a crisp.

"Even you said that I am not much cleaner than you are. What makes you think I have anything you'd so desire Witch?" He spat out the last word. "You're even worse off than a Bandit. But you wont kill me." Nahuatl continued without giving her a chance to speak unless she spoke over him, in which he'd just continue talking also. "Do you know why?" Nahuatl grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin. Someone one compared his smile to a jackal's right before it ate you.

Piqued by the man, Xalia lent down, closer to him. Had he never been a captive before? Even a breath away from death, he acted as though she were the one who ought to be begging him, and that he held power over her! What a strange one he was. The witch pursed her lips. No, something was amiss here. There was a trap, somewhere in this, waiting for her to trip it... Or perhaps she was paranoid. She had spent so much time away from others that maybe she could not recognize fear any more.

"It is often the place of the captured to offer all they have for their life," she pointed out. His next comment, though, and that grin- that grin was far too predatory for one with a knife on his neck. Xalia narrowed her eyes. "I am no different than your priests," she said, though, instead.

Why would she not have Junedith kill him? If he thought it would be because she was lonely or weak, he was quite wrong. But perhaps he did have something that he could offer her, indeed. Or perhaps her first instinct was right, and this was just a trap, for her own life instead. Perhaps he had men waiting in the woods about them, prepared to shoot her at his word... But she would live. Xalia always did. "Why not, dirty man? Why shall I not kill you? What have you for me?"

Nahuatl, for the first time since he had been run out of his city, began to feel alright. The cocky grin across his lips became less bluster and more confidence. His light blue eyes spotted the moment he had hooked the girl. The Doll hadn't moved and that was what sealed it. Nahuatl had won this little charade.

"Why? Why?" He mimicked, not caring that it might anger her. "Because my simple bandit, I am your answer. You need me." He looked pointedly at the doll stick perched on his chest. "Now remove your puppet or lose it." Nahuatl wasn't going to put up with the doll on him any longer. If she refused to move it, well a word of power would at least set it on fire. No one ever said Nahuatl was patient, even when it was necessary. He had put up with this charade long enough. And quite frankly he knew he could do just as much damage to her as she could to him before he went down. Not that he planned to go down. Not yet.

Her captive's expression changed. Not in a way that was overtly discernible, but enough to go from what Xalia could considered desperate to much more knowing. He had information, and as sure of himself as he was, she wanted it. And how he played around it! t was infuriating, and all the more desirable because of it.

"So you say, but you offer nothing past this bluff. You're in no position to order what condition I hold you in," she snapped. Her eyes slid to the doll. "Junedith." The girl pressed the blade in her hand against the man's neck, just enough to break the skin. Xalia looked back to the man. "Not that you could destroy her. Give me something of value, and she will get off." What a self entitled fool this man must have been, to think that he could make demands with the knife at his neck. "Now, are you going to speak, or play around more? My patience runs thin," she warned. This man was more trouble than he was worth; another pathetic attempt at freedom would cost him his head, and Junedith was ready to comply.

Nahuatl couldn't help but roll his eyes, even as the doll pressed the knife in closer. This woman must be an utter simpleton. Did he have to spell it out for her? He sighed dramatically, just to match her posturing. "I'm not bluffing. You do need me Witch. Take a good look at how I'm dressed. Does it look familiar?" He cocked a quizzical eyebrow. "No? Well, I expected you were an idiot. I'm a Priest. In a few years I could have been a High Priest. And you are a Witch." He paused waiting for her to put the pieces together.

Would she draw the lines between his state and come to the conclusion he was run off? Or was he going to have to explain everything? She must never have meet anyone before him if she was this dumb. Even the Doll seemed smarter and it could only do what it was commanded. Blood trickled down the side of his neck, but since the doll had stopped cutting, it was slowing to a trickle.

"Do you understand yet? I can help you strike back at them. I know more than you can imagine." Nahuatl at this point wasn't willing to give her much more. If she couldn't process what was going on she was worth nothing to him. If she thought she had the upper hand still after this long, well, Nahuatl wasn't going to disabuse her of the notion until he was ready to be done with them. Most people thought that Priests could only use word magic. But if that was the case why did they bleed their victims? Blood magic was far more trustworthy and powerful.