Nabal looked back at the merchant, clinching blood-soaked hands at his sides. The merchant lay gagging with wide eyes. He let out a last heavy breath. The guard looked from the teenage boy to the dead master and back again. The other door flew open and Nabal saw the other guard standing with his sword drawn. This guard did not freeze he swung his sword cutting Nabal’s leg. The flash of pain broke him from his trance, and he threw himself away from the attacker barreling through the stunned guard and crashing to his face on the hard packed dirt road. He heard the guard above him grunt and he rolled out of the way as the sword came down.

The guard stepped forward and kicked Nabal in the stomach. Hard. Nabal coughed and released a loud moan. The other guard climbed out of the wagon and swiftly closed the gap dropping to one knee beside the crying teenage boy.

“What was he doing in there?” The driver called out to the guards.

They ignored him. The kneeling guard placed the tip of his blade beside Nabal’s spine and spat on his face. Nabal gasped for breath his vision going black around the edges. “That was a mistake boy. May the Unstoppable have more mercy on you than I.” Before the guard could thrust his blade an arrow struck him in the chest. He dropped his sword and grasped the rod of the arrow stark disbelief chiseled on his face as he fell dead.

The other guard dove through the door of the wagon and the driver cracked the whip. The wagon lurched forward. Nabal rolled on his back sucking air into his burning lungs. Another arrow streaked through the night air and stuck the remaining guard in the eye as he reached to close the door. Nabal pushed himself to his feet. Datura walked out from cover and shoved the bow against his chest. Nabal stood holding the bow surprised.

“No witnesses Nabal.” Her face was pulled tight, and her lips were pursed. When he stood dumbfounded, she raised her eyebrows and widened her eyes. “He is getting away. The city guards will be able to see him soon.”

Nabal looked down at the bow and arrow in his hand then up at the wagon fleeing. He looked back at her then ran. He didn’t bother with stealth anymore. He ran clutching the bow and arrow in one hand pumping both arms as hard as he was able. The wagon reached the bend of the road to turn toward Windal. Nabal slid to a stop dropping to his knee and nocked his arrow. He slowed his breath. He blinked the sweat from his eyes. Pulling the string back to his cheek he listened to the bow creak. It was an impossible shot. He looked down the shaft of the arrow and followed the wagon with the tip until the driver was in sight. The man was looking over his shoulder at him.

Nabal inhaled slowly and aimed higher above the man’s head. A breeze blew across his sweat soaked neck and an unfamiliar voice inside of him pleaded with him to stop. To walk away. This man has a family. This man has children. Nabal released the arrow and heard the twang of the string. The arrow soared through the air it curved on the breeze and struck the man in the center of his chest. The voice inside him went silent and was replaced by a strangling tightness in his chest. The wagon rumbled on toward Windal and was soon out of sight disappearing around the bend.

He stayed on his knee and watched as the disgusting guilt poured over him like warm oil. He swallowed hard and dropped the bow. He looked up at the sky tears blurring his vision. The stars jeered him in judgment. He felt naked and alone. He rubbed his bloody hands on his cloak as he screamed at the heavens. “You did this to me.” He sobbed aloud. “You made me this way.” He accused the great emptiness.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and he jumped startled. Datura stood over him looking down at him a contemptuous look on her face. “An assassin does not cry over his kill any more than a lioness over her food. Let’s go before the wagon reaches Windal and twenty of the King's Hand come on swift horses to cut out your murderous heart.” She grinned unnerving him.

Nabal wiped his face on his sleeve and followed her into the forest. She led him deep into the darkness. She walked as confident as if she held a lantern to light the way as he stumbled and fell behind her. After more than an hour he could hear the sound of a waterfall.

Eventually she led him to the rushing river. Nabal took off his boots and walked into the cold black water. He scrubbed and washed desperately but the feeling of filth would not leave. He wanted to drown himself in the merciless water. He sobbed silently not allowing Datura to hear him. She busied herself gathering branches and struck a fire with a flint.

Nabal climbed on the bank and half crawled to the fire flopping down on his side and staring into the hypnotizing flames. Datura sat down behind him pulling his head into her lap. She ran her fingers through his hair humming to herself an eerie tune. The fire began to lull him to sleep. She spoke just as his eyes began to close. She had a soft tone to her voice as he had never heard. It was a loving tone. Like a mother. “You failed this time Nabal. I helped you to cover up your error, but I will not always be there to protect you. You have to do better next time. You will do better next time. I will make sure of it. Rest now. When you awake you will be a new man. A stronger man.”