Kaitlyn stood atop a hill, overlooking the nearby village and the handful of men guarding it, their weapons at the ready as the half dozen or so men prepared to face off against the roughly 30 that approached. Her feet sloshed in a puddle as she planted her them and prepared to work, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to attack. She took no pleasure in harming others, but she took even less pleasure knowing what that band of ruffians and mercenaries intended to do to that village, all in pursuit of her.

Beneath her cloak, far enough away from anyone to be identified, she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She blinked, and her golden eyes began to shine like the light of a small sun. She felt the now familiar flow of magic envelop her entirely, its warm, tingling sensation slightly comforting against the chilly wind. 

A ball of flame, summoned by her internal command, began forming in her right hand's palm. It started small, the size of a candle's flame, then slowly grew, stopping once in was a comfortable size to be held within the hand that cast it. How many of these would it take to make these people leave, or to decimate them? It was a number she couldn't calculate with her battle experience and one that she never hoped she'd be able to determine at a glance.

She prepared to release her first strike when she paused at the sound of footsteps. There were puddles and mud everywhere, courtesy of the rain the previous evening, so it came as a surprise to realize that the steps were oddly close. To say within throwing range was an understatement, but they weren't close enough to reach out to either. It was a respectful distance, unassuming. It was the distance between warriors who had mutual respect, right before they got to the part where they tried to kill each other.

Kaitlyn knew of this distance, had seen it, yet was never directly involved. Her unintended quaries had no respect for her, her personal space, or her life. Yet here was someone who managed to approach silently, had made it a point to ensure they were heard, and waited. It was not a greeting, but a warning: 'You could've been dead by now'.

A drop of cold sweat slid down her back, and another down the side of her face. She corrected her stance from throwing to casual, sliding her feet closer together through the mud. She turned slowly, leaving the fireball in hand. "I assume you aren't here for a leisurely chat."

She glanced at the being that had interrupted her 'work' and grimaced. "Did Deckard send you, too?"

Her first glance told her it was a man. Dark clothes, muddy boots, and a long cloak that obscured most of one's figure. Not much different from her attire upon first look. She noted the differences: a thicker, sturdier build, nearly a full head taller than her, and most surprising, a casual stance. She could see stubble on his chin, and the way the cloak billowed to one side made it appear that he had a hand on his hip or in his pocket, likely the latter.

He wore a cloak, but the hood was down, and instead, a hat was pulled over his eyes. They were just out of her view, though he could see her. He spoke, "Yeah, seems you've caused him quite a bit of trouble. I'm here to get rid of that trouble, ma'am."

"Ma'am? Just how old do you think I am?! I'm not even 16! I don't have kids or nothin!"

The man staggered back for a moment, "Wait, you're Kate, the Wake of Cinders, right?"

"My name is Kaitlyn. You people added the rest. If you're here to kill me, why'd you bother to wait?"

"I wanted to give the courtesy of introducing myself to another professional. I'm Larry, by the way."

"Professional what?! I'm a hired hand, not a mercenary. You do know those are different things, right?"

He staggered back again. "You've left 18 people burned so badly their own mothers scarcely recognize them. It's a miracle they weren't killed. If that ain't a professional, tell me what is."

"Listen Larry, you seem like a nice guy for someone who's after my head, but I didn't do those things willingly. Just let me protect this village from the rest of the thugs Deckard sent to find me, and we can settle things. It'll only take a minute."

Larry paused for the briefest moment in thought. "I can't do that ma'am. My orders were to bring you back, dead or alive. I at least need a head." He made a show of letting a dagger slide into is palm from his sleeve.

Kate scoffed, "Deckard would pick now of all times to get serious. Looks like I'll have to go all out."

"Guess I'll use both knives then."

Kate shifted her weight and lowered her posture, raising both her hands in a very much imperfect fighting stance. She lowered her hood, leaving her glowing golden eyes and fiery orange hair in full view. Another sphere of flames formed in her left hand. "Then I'll do you the honor of using both hands."