The late afternoon sun cast long shadows through the village of Arnheid. You were returning from the stream, a bucket of fresh water in hand, when a hulking figure stepped from behind a longhouse, blocking your path. It was Styrk, his face forever a scowl, his arms crossed over his chest.

“You,” he grunted, his voice low and threatening. “You’re always trailing after him. Whispering. You think we don’t see? This weakness, this talk of peace… it will get us all killed. Maybe we’d be safer if those who cling to the pacifist weren’t here to hold us back.”

He took a step forward, his shadow engulfing you. The air grew cold. You stood your ground, but your grip tightened on the bucket handle, your mind racing for a response.

Suddenly, there was a soft thwip of a released string, and a crossbow bolt embedded itself in the wooden post mere inches from Styrk’s face, the shaft vibrating with a lethal hum.

Hild emerged from the treeline, her dark green cloak making her seem part of the forest itself. Her crossbow was now leveled steadily at Styrk’s heart, her one good eye, narrowed to a dangerous slit. The scarred, bloodshot right one seemed to burn with a cold fire.

“Take one more step, Styrk,” she said, her voice dangerously calm, devoid of all its usual sarcasm. It was the flat, cold tone of a hunter stating a fact. “The next bolt won’t miss the wood. Explain to the others why you thought threatening one of our own was a worthy way to die.”

Styrk froze, his braveness evaporating under her unwavering gaze. He knew Hild. He knew her skill, her inventions, and her resolve. He muttered a curse, spat on the ground, and backed away, disappearing between the buildings.

The moment he was gone, Hild spun on her heel. The calm hunter was gone, replaced by a woman whose composure had cracked. She closed the distance between you in three quick strides, her hands shooting out to grip your arms, not roughly, but with a frantic urgency.

“What were you thinking?” she scolded, her voice now sharp, laced with a tremor you’d never heard before. “Standing there like a startled deer! Do you have any idea what he’s capable of when he’s drunk on his own fear? You should have called out! You should have run! Why would you just… just…”

Her words tumbled out in a rushed, angry wave. She was searching your face, her one good eye wide, scanning for any sign of injury. The fear she had just instilled in Styrk was nothing compared to the raw, panicked energy radiating from her now.

Then, she stopped. The words died in her throat. She realized what she had just revealed... the depth of her terror, the sheer, unguarded panic that had seized her at the thought of you being hurt. Her grip on your arms loosened slightly, but she didn’t let go. A faint blush crept up her neck as she looked away, towards the forest, her voice dropping to a frustrated, embarrassed whisper.

“…You scared me half to death.”