Right Place, Right Time

Captain Adrian Cole, the Huntress

^^ Vision Alex ^^

— Alex —

I emerged from my room, wearing the scail-mail that Reginald had made for me, and Uncle Ben, -who'd been tinkering with his boots,- nodded to me, then left. I made to follow, but I caught a very different sight than I was used to in the mirror, from the corner of my eyes.

Instead of the smooth, naïve face of the girl I saw in the mirror every day and tried to ignore, young and unmarked, there stood a person, fully grown and in their prime, covered in leather armor and knives of every conceivable type and metal, all over their person. Their hair, pitch-black, was long and braided, and laced with bleach-white portions, along with a few vicious splashes of blood over their porcelain skin. A long scar hooked from the edge of one ear to the back of their skull. They wore a sailor's boots over their leather armor, and I noticed large dragon's scales hidden in plates under the leather, skillfully disguised.

No visible breasts marred their well-muscled chest, almost like a thin mans. A deep-seated happiness washed through me, at the thought of being rid of the useless sacks of flesh whose only purpose seemed to be to make almost everyone I met either ignore or ogle me; the mere suggestion that I could hope to look so... perfect.

"Alex!" Ben called, making me look away from the mirror.

When I looked back, there was that girl again, that useless, annoyingly beautiful girl. "Coming, Uncle Ben!" I called, confused, and caught up with him.

—

The climb up the mountain was a challenge, and one I thoroughly enjoyed. Climbing in the rigging was a cake-walk, once you figured out where to grab and how to lean to be stable as the ship moved. But the Mountain was different. There were no uniform knots to grab, no special places to put your feet, and nothing was moving, either, giving you time to think about each move before you made it.

I slipped a number of times on the wet rocks, catching myself by stabbing a knife into a crevice, at one point. Reginald looked down at that one, his eyes gleaming unnaturally. "Watch your hands." He murmured, and continued on without further comment.

Wordlessly, I set my hands and withdrew my knife, setting it back in its sheath though the blade was badly scratched and a little bent.

—

The crossbow was always one of my better weapons. The bow I excelled at, and I could throw knives well enough to pin a fly to a wall, but the crossbow was the most powerful of the three. Still, my hands shook, seeing the beast fly towards us through the cloudy night sky, and my shot went wide. Instead of his nose, it clipped his throat, and he slammed into the cliff face, screeching horribly.

I watched numbly as Ben snapped its neck, and wondered if that meant I'd killed it, or if he had. Either seemed worse, with different arguments. If I'd killed it, I'd killed a dragon, a living, thinking, intelligent creature. If he had, I hadn't killed a dragon. If I'd killed it, its soul was my burden. If He'd killed it, it was his. It was a terrible set of choices.

The cave was terrible, from any angle. Bodies strewn left and right, dozens of them, half-eaten or just ripped into pieces. It was enough to make my stomach turn, but I didn't puke. As much as gore disgusted me, I was no stranger to blood, and I'd long-since mastered my reaction to it.

Still, the addition of more dragons, -Sorry, Hydra,- was enough to rattle me a little, so a few jokes in quite bad taste were the best I could do to center myself.

Reginald saw the confusion and fear we had about the situation, and decided to simply ignore it, clapping at us authoritatively. "It's just a couple of Hydra, they're nowhere near as dangerous as the Sea Serpent or the Black Dog. They don't even have magic!" He shrugged calmly, and stood up, dusting himself off. "Now, let's go, people, chop chop, I expect results!"