“And... kick!”

Anastasia lifted one little leg as high as she could without falling over. It dropped to the floor without touching it's goal.

“But... id's hard!” she pouted.

“Come on, try again,” Afton coaxed, teasing her with the flash of a small bow.

Anastasia swallowed and tried again... and again... and again... and yet another time.

A soft breeze blew at the pretty golden strands stuck to her cheek as the warm, dense atmosphere made small sticky drops of sweat roll down from as high as her forehead to off her eyelashes and cheek.

Each time she tried, the picture of the bow and arrow was in her head... but every time she failed, the leaves seem to suddenly be aroused in a tickled fit of laughter.

“It's too hard,” she grumbled, falling to the floor, glaring with annoyance at the leaves that floated tauntingly about her.

“Ok, ok, you've done enough today. With enough practice, you'd be able to do it in a couple of weeks,” Afton chuckled, rustling her hair.

Anastasia smoothed down her hair and looked up at him with a twinkle in her eyes, “Could you teach me the bow and awwow, now?” she asked eagerly.

“Sure, Annie, take a little break first...”

“But, I want to shtart now!” she protested, jumping to her feet.

Afton chuckled at her eagerness and took out the bow, “You remember how to hold it, don't you?”

Anastasia had picked it up and held the bow with her left hand. Shuffling her feet into a perpendicular position, she looked up expectantly at Afton for an arrow.

“Here, make sure you hold it properly.”

She put the arrow in position, pulled the bowstring as far back as her strength would allow, and aimed... at a leaf.

“Slowly... slowly... take deep breaths and release it.”

Anastasia let the arrow fly. It fell a few feet off, far from the target.

“That was a good try, Annie, we should really work out those hand and back muscles.”

She shook her head obstinately and took out another arrow from the quiver, trying again and again, falling short of her goal every single time.

“Why don't you try a lower target first, Annie,” Afton tried to persuade her.

“Nuh-uh! I'm goingna try!”

“Ok... then... you do that.”

Anastasia spent the next two hours working on it. She was just too ambitious for her age...

“Annie,” Afton called softly when fatigue was racking her nerves. She fired just one more arrow before collapsing beside her father.

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes and sobbed, “I don't want you to go tonight. Papa, don't go.”

“Why's that, Annie?”

“You go out evwy time to work. You come home evwy night wiv the smell of blood. Papa, I'll learn to fight weal quick so I can protect you while you work.”

She knew?! Stop... she can't go down that road... she's not a killer... She's a... a... she's just learning to protect herself!

“Annie, don't worry, I'll never get hurt...”

“But you did! I saw the cut in your leg!” she cut in.

Afton held her hands and looked into her eyes, “Annie, are you worried about papa?” he asked.

“I... I'm not!” she snapped, then continued, almost in a whisper, “I just don't want you to get hurt.”

Afton ruffled her hair again and laughed, “So cute! I promise you papa, won't get hurt unless you can finally hurt me one day, ok, Annie?”

“I'm not cute!” Annie snapped, glaring at Afton while holding her hair with her chubby little hands.

Afton just lay down in the grass, “Go inside and get some sleep, Annie, you'll need it.”

“But the sun only just set!” she cried, but Afton was deaf to her little protests.

****

“You're positive of his having a child?” the hoarse creaky voice of a masked person came.

“A girl,” replied an equally covered person. However, his voice betrayed the age category of the youth.

“Good... you've done well for your nation! The risks you've taken to confirm the rumors are worthy of glory.”

“Anything for Chrision...” the younger of the two said.

“All hail Vasop!” cried the old man.

“How is she?” the younger asked quietly, as if afraid of what he should hear.

“Not good. She talks to Kaylie every day. I wonder she isn't dead at the state she's in,” muttered the old man.

“Isumton must have heard of her condition,” sighed the young man.

“Must have?! They already did since last month!”

“I'd bet it was the beautiful work of that devil,” muttered the young man bitterly, clenching his fists as his mind flew into a fury at the very thought of Afton.

“A devil? He's probably whole Hell incarnated into a person! Invincible, I say. It's a wonder the immortals don't intervene!”

The younger person sneered, “We'll see what happens tonight. Even an immortal won't escape the trap I've planned out for him...”

****

“I'll be back soon, Annie, tonight's job is really simple.

It is, isn't it? I'm not lying yet... I mean, killing three people who're crossing the border tonight would be simple enough to be categorized 'simple', right?

“Ok... I'll be here,” she whispered from the make-shift tent of rocks and leaves.

Afton smiled and handed her a dagger that he'd bought, tailored to her size and strength. He merged with the shadows and out into the night.

Anastasia's eyes darted around a couple of times before she cautiously stepped out of her little hole and armed herself with a dagger, her bow and quiver of arrows, and the blood passed down to her.

She ran after her father, silent as he was, agile as he was, a little slower than he was, light brown hair flying, eyes sparkling. Anastasia wanted to see what her father did.

Afton stopped, crept down and leapt up a tree. Anastasia watched his silhouette ascend until he was almost out of sight.

A chill descended upon her. All confidence suddenly dissipated and a fear gathered in her heart.

She was even more startled upon perceiving the crushing off leaves. They were quiet... but not quiet enough to escape her ears, much less the one above. Anastasia knew it wasn't her father and she began to shake. Whether in fear or of the cold, she didn't even know.

Anastasia ran to hide, curled up in the arc of a large tree's roots when she made out three figures in the shadows.

She began to think that these guys were the ones that hurt her papa all along, and her fury began to simmer. However, her fear kept her hidden.

The three people came closer and closer until she began to think that her papa was going to be passed without detection.

She was not prepared for what she witnessed next.

Her father fell from the sky, raining daggers on all three before ensuring two of their passings to the Styx with a slash across their throats.

Anastasia covered her mouth and hid behind the tree before sprinting as fast as her little legs could take her back to the 'tent'.

Afton stood a while to check their pulses and make sure they were dead.

****

“Signal for a retreat!”

“Stop it, what do you mean 'retreat'?! We're just getting stared!”

“We couldn't find the girl and we don't have a plan B.”

“Who cares? We have enough manpower to scare an immortal off a planet!”

“Do you not know, sir? Afton is more than an immortal. Don't under-estimate him and meet the angels before you naturally would.”

“Fine... just this once. You'd better secure the girl next time.”

****

“Annie, you can come out now. We're going to move.”

Anastasia creeped out from her hiding spot, eyeing Afton suspiciously.

Afton immediately sensed the uneasiness in her behavior and asked, “What's wrong?”

“You... What ezacy is your job?” she whispered, the tears beginning to refill.

“Annie,” Afton said softly, stepping over to comfort her, “don't cry.”

Afton knelt down to take her into his arms, but in a quick, clumsy movement, Anastasia had taken out her dagger and slashed his hand.

Shocked, Afton could only stare, frozen to the spot. It seems everything else besides time had stopped... with the exception of the blood dripping onto the floor. Not one bough overhead sighed, not one cricket sang, not a leaf on the floor stirred...

Father and daughter stood stationary. One crying, the other just staring.

Then, the first rays of dawn beamed at the forelocks of Afton. Sun and wind blew playfully at all around them till Anastasia was tickled to make the first move.

She threw her arms around Afton's neck and hugged him, sobbing as if her little heart was broken.

He didn't cower at her touch even though she'd cut him. He was hers to use as she pleased. “Papa?”

“Hmm?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her back.

“I've beaten you... so now you can stop going to 'work', right?” came her muffled sobs from his shoulder.

“Annie... I... I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. And... I'm sorry I can't keep my promise,” he stuttered.

“You killed, I saw you!” she cried, “You lied to me! You were just...”

Afton didn't even try to defend himself against her accusations.

“So all you were teaching me for... was to learn to be like you?!” she finished.

There was silence on his part. His lips were pursed.

“Answer me! Papa... I don't hate you for needing to do what you do,” she said.

“I have nothing to say for myself,” he answered quietly.

“Don't do this, papa. Don't be guilty...” she pleaded suddenly, quietly.

“Annie, I don't want you to be like me. Annie, there are many things in life I regret. Annie, you must learn before everything else how to protect yourself. Annie, you must learn never to trust anyone. Annie, can't you see from my example how easily people can lie? Annie, you're going to be the strongest, prettiest, and coldest of them all. Death... is my job. I kill for you, me... us. But it isn't right. I know it isn't. So, Annie, forget what you saw. I'm... papa is sorry. Everything I did, I regretted... except for you. Annie, you can be master of yourself, but Annie...! Don't... don't trust.”

After the outburst, both Afton and Anastasia were quiet. She was slightly confused by his conflicting instructions... thoroughly confused by the statement 'Death is my job'. A little girl of six wouldn't have understood, but deep down, she did. Her heart just wouldn't accept what her mind had processed.

No way her father was a killer... no way she could feel safe again if she believed that.

****

“Send out another bait tonight,” a familiar voice commanded

“Yes, sir. How many?”

“Just one this round,” the young, masked man muttered between his teeth, for the voice was his.

“Who... will be the victim?”

The man only laughed haughtily, “There will be none.”

“But...” his underling cried, growing pale, “The queen would never allow it!”

“That's why Chrision is falling into Isumton's hands!” the masked man snapped, “the queen is getting weaker and weaker, can't you see? A whole half of our land has fallen into Isumton hands in the past six years!”

The underling only bowed, more in fear than in agreement, “I will do as you command!”

****

Afton and Anastasia traveled in a southern direction to the spot they were to spend the next night.

Afton was supposed to check in at the headquarters (about two hours' ride on horseback) to be informed on the particulars of his next mission, but he hadn't the heart to leave Anastasia.

She had been a terrible mood the whole day (who wouldn't, really) and hid in her little tent/dugout as soon as it was made. Her back was all Afton had seen since.

“Just go,” she muttered when she sensed the nervous anxiety, “I'll practice my bow.”

Afton stood a while before disappearing from behind her.

“Didn't even say goodbye like he used to,” she sulked.

Somehow, a tingling sensation tickled the tip of her nose and she felt something wet form at the edges of her eyes. She hadn't cried in a while... so it was sort of a foreign feeling?

I don't think he did it. But... it feels as if I just don't want to think he did. Wha... What's this?

Little drops had soaked into the fabric of her turtleneck, long-sleeved shirt, turning it a fresher shade of black.

Shrugging it off as a rare, but natural, occurrence, Anastasia wiped what remained of the substance on her wrists before taking up her bow and quiver of arrows.

****

“Colvile Afton Hunter, I presume.”

Afton nodded slightly.

“Would you mind, kind sir, to await direct orders by the commander himself?”

Afton saluted and bowed slightly before retiring to the waiting room.

He was a mute to all except her (as you might have guessed) and took no part in the gossip that went 'tound the room. Sometimes, in fact, the juiciest news would be about him. But he seemed not to care, hiding his face in the shadow of a hood -perfectly stationary- until he was called.

This time, it was on his next mission. Whispered guesses of the next of his wonders went 'round the room. Some thought it to be a 'top secret' that he had to be called by the commander himself, no doubt, there were many more whispered conversations that Afton just tuned himself out of the channel.

He was called, given the details of the night's mission, and sent back, to which he responded all in silence.

Even when he reached back, there was no dialogue like there usually was between him and the little aspiring archer.

He tried, once, to talk to her. Clearing his throat and standing up, his efforts weren't acknowledged as the little girl hit the mark.

Somehow, she didn't seem happy in the least. Her mind was too clouded with anger. A war against herself that was raged internally.

Not a sign of it was expressed... except through that arrow.

Night came and still she stood –aiming, releasing, and retrieving the fallen arrows only to repeat the process all over again-- as did he...

Finally, she relaxed and let the bow descend slowly to be almost parallel to the floor, “Go,” she whispered hoarsely, “you need to work...”

****

Running noiselessly across the forest floor, occasionally stopping to observe his surroundings, ever ready to dart to safety at the slightest noise... everything was normal...

But somehow... he was uneasy.