The curriculum at the White Tower was noticeably lacking in any mention of wood craft. As she stumbled her way through the brush, Mave bitterly wished she could trade one of her lessons on Tarien politics for a little practical pathfinding. Great trees loomed around her as she pressed onwards, motivated by the simple reasoning that if she kept going down hill she would reach the river she had seen from the mountain and that once she found the water all she needed to do was follow it down stream until she came upon some settlement or another. That theory had felt a lot more promising before the canopy of fresh spring leaves closed over her and the slope of terrain began to level off. Having grown up on the wide plains outside of Bandar Eban she found the dense forest alien and oppressive. 

She had spent the previous night in a small hollow beside a stream carved by the fresh snowmelt. Not wishing to risk the smoke of a fire in such unfamiliar country, she had heaped a pile of river rocks and channeled flows of fire into them until they radiated enough heat to keep her warm. The food she had bought from Caemlyn consisted of hard baked bread and dried apples, and though there were ample mushrooms to be found, she hadn’t dared to eat any of them. She was careful to ration her food, though even so she would only have enough for two or three more days. Bringing down game was theoretically possible, though given the way she moved through the woodlands,  she would have to stumble across the world's only deaf and blind deer in order to get close enough to strike it down.

At dawn she had set out again, following the stream besides which she had camped. The going was easier where the water had already cleared a path and she had a sense she was making better time. Abruptly, the sound of voices startled her and she froze in place. Creeping forward over the mossy rocks she looked down over a small waterfall which fell a dozen feet into a pool. On the rocky shore was a small untidy camp that sprawled around a rude hut of sticks and mud. Two men sat around a fire they had built between the hut and the water, a joint of meat, possibly venison was roasting on a spit. Both men were bearded and unkempt and one was wrapped in a filthy but recognisable white cloak, a golden sunburst nearly invisible beneath months or years of grease and dirt.

Mave pursed her lips. These men must be deserters from the Children of Light, the frothing zealots who followed the teachings of Lothar Mantelar. Unconciously her hand went to her pouch where her few coppers and her ring, a gold band fashioned in the likeness of a serpent eating its own tail, were concealed. Deserters or not she doubted they were any friends of hers. Did this mean she was in Amadicia? That would make the mountains behind her the Mountain’s of Mist, which was good, though finding herself in the heartland of her enemies was not.

“Enjoying the view?” came a voice from beside her. Mave’s heart nearly leapt from her throat as she started, spinning to find a man watching her from the other side of the small stream. Like the man below he wore the remnants of a white cloak and a heavy beard. In his hands he clutched a short bow and there was a sword at his hip, though he didn’t as yet have an arrow knocked.

“I’m lost,” she said, her mind spinning like an upended wagon wheel as she tried to come up with some sort of believable story for how she had come to be here. The men below started at the voices and looked up too the waterfall where Mave was concealed.

“Well now you are found,” the stranger said mildly, though Mave detected something unpleasant in his voice. It must have shown in her face because the man sprang at her without warning. She screamed as his body struck her driving her into the icy water with a splash. Below her she heard shouts and curses as the men below rushed for the waterfall. The stranger outweighed the young woman and pinned her easily, his broad hand encircling her throat, a feral grin split his lips and he grabbed the neck of her dress, tearing the fabric to expose her bosom.

“Our second young doe in as many days, lucky us,” he laughed, leaning down as though to kiss her. The serenity and euphoria of Saidar filled her like the warmth of a rising sun. Everything stood out in incredible relief, the feeling of each individual rock and patch of moss on her skin, the varying currents of water, the rough calluses of her attackers skin. A smile split her lips inspite of the dire situation and her attacker, confused by the reaction hesitated for a fraction of a second, his grip loosening. A single weave of air, tiny and sharper than any razor lashed across his throat. A crimson wave washed over Mave’s face as the blood gushed from the wound, staining the waterfall red. The deserter stumbled back, clutching vainly at his neck as blood spurted between his fingers. He tried to stand then sank to his knees and pitched forward into the water, his body to heavy for the stream to lift over the lip. 

Gasping for breath Mave pushed herself to her feet. The men below were shouting as they rushed towards the small rocky rise. Picking a direction at random she fled blindly into the forest. Killing with the One Power was about as serious an offense as could be imagined, though even the Mistress of Novices herself couldn't have claimed that this instance hadn’t been in self defense. Branches tore at her as she sprinted across the uneven terrain, trying with one hand to keep the ruin of her dress in place, less from an instinct for modesty than to prevent it from tipping her up. She could hear her pursuers shouting behind her as they crashed through the brush in pursuit.

Without a plan Mave ran, picking her path wherever the undergrowth was thinnest, hoping to find somewhere to hide long enough to evade her pursuers. Hurdling what she thought were natural rocks, she burst unexpectedly onto a rutted but well traveled road, realized belatedly that it had been a low stone wall, and crashed into a young man who had paused, obviously hearing the commotion in the woods and sending them both sprawling to the dirt in a tangle.