The Shadow and The Huntress

Though flinching slightly at the contact, she did not withdraw. Instead, she answered. Her voice strained, yet soft.

I am not him.

It had taken The Huntress a great many years to overcome that identity that had been forced upon her. After all, no woman could be Antaam; it was not their place. Aqun-Athlok they'd called her. Proud she should have been to be so recognized for her skill. His skill. Proud to have served in the Qun as a man. He served.

That had been a lie told for two decades.

A lie that still hurt far more than The Huntress ever admitted. Not even her Kadan had born any brunt of this knowledge. Vela knew little. She had so much else to worry about, it was not The Huntress' place to give more weight to the High Keeper's load.

Despite the inner turmoil, she straightened her posture a bit more. All hints of emotion drained as she reminded herself: duty before self. Asit tal-eb.

The Huntress looked back at the woman - the girl. Maraas imekari. A child. Foolish with words not worth heeding - even if they tasted bitter. This time, she spoke loud enough to be heard, knowing the girl would understand. Knowing that Faelyn would understand.

The Council should decide her fate. Marshall or not, it was not truly her place to expel someone on their past. This ghost had not attacked beyond her verbal assault. No injury come to those surrounding them yet. Without that, The Huntress felt she had no place to escort the bas out.