[I]Mitaja heard her coming first. Hadian had been in a dead sleep and the sound of hooves thundering up to his small hut would not have woken him if it weren't for the cat, who had been draped over him like a living blanket. She got up and stretched, putting one large paw on Hadian's chest in the process which caused him to groan and sputter a little. But then he did hear the hooves. When he got up and opened the door to peer into the darkness, he saw a white horse approaching and nearly choked on his own tongue; white horses were reserved for the Sol and their Taja. Reason kicked in and he thought for a split second it might be Ajoran. Perhaps the deed had been done, and he had come to give Ridahne's brother his condolences. After all, if things had gone differently, they might have called each other brothers. But the lack of Taja's sash and an overabundance of wavy black hair told him otherwise.

"Ri...dah..ne...?"
"Hadian!" His sister leaped out of the saddle and threw her arms around him, holding tightly.
"Ridahne, the horse! Did you...what did you do?"
"I didn't, I have to send her back. But they wanted me to get here as fast as possible, I've been riding for a full day. Take care of her and then send her on her way, yes?"
"I don't understand...Ridahne..." He gingerly touched the brand new tattoo, swollen and fresh between her eyes. "How are you not dead?"

Ridahne's hands gripped his arms hard. She had so much adrenaline she could hardly stand it. "I had a vision. About...the Tree." Now his hands were gripping her arms. "There is, or is going to be--I don't know--a new gardener. That's all I'm allowed to tell you, but you CAN'T tell anyone else. Nobody. Not even Nyyvai. Come, Hadian! Help me pack!" 
The two rushed into the tiny house. "You've been pardoned? But your Ojih...?"
"Doesn't show that, no. I'm not really pardoned, not fully. It depends on my success. I'm sorry, Hadian, I'll need Mitaja."
The older of the two nodded. "Right. Does Ajoran know?" When Ridahne nodded Hadian asked, "Then could, when you're done, could--"
"No." Her tone went suddenly cold and hard. "I'd only bring him shame."
Hadian knew his sister's tone and wisely did not press. "Can I ask where you're going?"

Ridahne had been gathering food and madly stuffing it into a thin cloth sack, but she stopped dead at those words. And, as if for the first time, she realized the enormity of what she was about to undertake and said slowly, "I don't know, Hadian."[/I]

---

"Fate can be downright cruel, can't it?" She muttered. Well, at least she wasn't the only miserable sap. Still, some irritating part of her that was still clinging to hope made her think that if her own admission didn't draw out a confession that Darin was the Gardener, then nothing would. [I]Because she isn't. Go figure.[/I]

Ridahne turned around again, this time taking the knife with one of her slender, scarred hands. She inspected it, hefted it, even swung it a little. Tsura gave a little leap of his forelegs--not quite rearing but definitely a little hop--and his pace quickened, but Ridahne quickly reigned him in. "Sorry. He's trained for fighting and I'm giving him ideas..." She hefted the weapon some more and turned it around a few times. Then she chuckled. "You stabbed a man with this?" Her laugh grew stronger, more amused. "I gotta hand it to you, that's determination. Good for you. Your first time is always an experience. You hunt and kill animals for food, or you slay an injured horse to spare it from misery, and you think you're ready to kill a man when a situation gets desperate enough. But you're never ready for that first time." She spoke with absolute experience.

Ridahne had killed. Many times. But she had never murdered anyone in cold blood at least, or that's what she told herself the first few times. It remained true even to that day, but after so long it didn't seem to matter anymore. She knew that on the whole, she was doing good, even if it meant spilling blood. There was, after all, some evil that not even the Great Tree could quell, and especially not so far south. Ridahne was there to find those who slipped through the cracks.

"Does that blade suit you? Because you could do better...I'd feel easier leaving you with a real blade and not a kitchen knife...ai, this is barely even sharp!" Ridahne took a smooth stone from one of her saddlebags and began to sharpen the blade right then and there, like it bothered her to even hold a dull blade. In a way, it did. She likened it to someone who spent their life raising elite horses being presented with a mule for racing.