Something in the Night

Chapter Two

One Year Later

Nina hated rain. The only good thing about it was that if it fell hard enough, it muffled the sounds of her footsteps and that made sneaking up on people far easier. The downside was the mud sometimes pulled at her boots, it was slippery, and more than once, she lost her footing. More than once, she landed on her backside in the process.

That's what happened this time. Lost her bloody footing and went sprawling arse over teakettle as her mother would say, and in the process, her bow went in one direction, her arrow in another, and she was damn lucky she didn't land on her own blade.

She lay there, staring up at the night sky, raindrops spattering her face and blinding her until she gathered her wits enough to at least sit up. The sodden ground soaked into her trousers, but she wasn't sure she trusted herself to stand, as she'd knocked the wind out of herself when she hit the ground and was still a bit dizzy.

A stagger to her left. A stumble to her right. And finally, her head cleared enough for her to drag a damp sleeve over her face to wipe her eyes and a few minutes later, she'd found both her bow and the wayward arrow. More importantly, she'd also found her footing once more as well.

"A fool's errand, this," she muttered, jamming the bow back into the quiver, then hefted the quiver to slip over her shoulders. She wasn't finding him tonight. Not in this downpour. No, the best thing to do would be to find shelter and hope the storms passed by dawn.

So, that's what she did. She traipsed through the mud—carefully this time—until she reached the town of Dunning. It was small and rough, on the outskirts of the Wilderlands, where people didn't ask names and minded their own business as if their lives depended on it, which it often did.

The Grey Bear was at the far end of the main road, which was sloppy and rutted and she slipped and slid what seemed the entire length of it before she was shoving herself through the front door.

Curious eyes flicked her way and then just as quickly flicked elsewhere, but she paid them little heed as she marched over to the bar. "A pint of your darkest stout, if you'd be so kind."

"You got money?"

She slapped a gold coin onto the scratched and dinged wood. "Will this do?"

The barkeep arched an eyebrow, but fetched the stout and with a sigh of satisfaction, Nina shrugged out of her rain-beaded cloak to hang it on the nearest hook, then settled onto a barstool and took a long drink.

Sitting with her back to the room made her uncomfortable, so after a few minutes, when a table in a corner opened up, she hurried to snag it, setting with her back to that same corner. There she had a perfect view of the room and all who entered or left. Her gold coin bought her another pint and a bit of bread and cheese, so she ate, and as she did, she watched the room. The regulars, such as they were, weren't much different from her. Some looked as if they'd been in jail until that morning, some looked as if they belonged living beneath a bridge, and others as if they would kill someone for looking at them the wrong way.

Perhaps they thought the same of her, for there were no second glances, no suddenly narrowed eyes. Heads turned, then bent back to who or whatever and she was forgotten, which was fine with her.

She was halfway through her second bowl of soup when Oakenshield and another dwarf stepped into the taproom, shaking the rain off their oilskins. The hunk of bread she was chewing caught in her throat as it turned into a hunk of glue and before she choked on it, Nina grabbed her pint to wash it down. Her gut twisted as he and the other dwarf, who was about the same height only bald and heavily tattooed, came into the taproom, gave a quick look about, then settled at a table nearest the crackling fire.