The Hunt

Chapter 8- The Rabbit Meets the Lion

Alma tightened the gauze that she'd tied around the woman's leg.

"Does that hurt?" She asked. "Is it too tight?"

The woman shook her head, throat still sore from being punched smack in the middle of her neck.

Alma considered the woman lucky to still be breathing. The woman wanted to go back out and stop crime.

"Jumping into a raid," the Saint mumbled, tapping the officers shoulder and sitting her up. "How stupid can you get."

Her small cold hands rested gently on the officers neck before moving her chin up.

"Lucky for you, no bleeding. Your breathing sounds fine, so I don't think there's any internal damage. Two weeks off work. Came back in exactly a week and I might be able to shorten that for you."

The officer opened her mouth to argue.

"Stop that!" Alma yelled. "Don't even think about it! You're going to ruin your throat. Do you want to be able to talk again? Hmm? No? That's what I thought. Two weeks. Now lay down and wait for the nurse to come back and check you out."

Alma left, taking with her a bag of medicines and pulling the curtain closed behind her.

"Brutal," a voice said, making her jump.

She turned, suddenly feeling meekness wash over her. Even more so when she was face to face with the crown prince.

"Yo-you're highness." She gave a curt bow before looking back up. "To what do I owe the ho-honor?"

"Alma Reebank, right?"

She nodded.

"Good. Come with me. Ah, that sounded bad. I'm sorry that was really bad. You have your own office, correct? All saints do, right?"

She nodded agin, trying not giggle at the Prince's strangely unprincely demeanor. She walked forward, motioning with her head for him to follow.

---

Alma's office, if you could call the small room that, had a desk and a single cot to sleep on.

"What can I do for you, um, your highness?"

"I'm sure you're aware of the succession games. Well they're coming up again. I was asked to choose a team and I want you. I mean-as part of my team. I'm sorry. It just-this all sounds so bad."

Her expression shifted between something that looked like shock, disgust, embarrassment, and then confusion.

"M-me? I'm a saint. I believe in peace the succession games are-are war and I don't know I can't- I don't."

"I know. I read your file. The war field, the everything. But hear me out. The succession games are our way of ensuring a safe future. To do that I want to make sure that everyone I bring is kept safe. If someone is go die on this, I will forever feel guilty. That's why I want you. I-I'm not saying that I'll force you into dangerous situations, but I'm not saying you'll be safe. Think about it."

With that as a last note, he left her to her quiet room.

---

Zephyr was walking back to the common room, his common room, which he'd designated as a meeting point, when he ran into his assassin.

"Your highness," Orion acknowledged, dipping his head in a quick bow before standing at ready attention.

"You can stop that," Zephyr replied. "Treat me like a friend as long as we're together. Calling me 'your highness' the whole time will get annoying. And fast."

"Of course. Forgive my- Sorry, um, Zephyr."

The handsome prince cocked his head and gave half a smile. A trained court like smile that never failed to win anyone over. The assassin was no exception.

With eyes trained to study emotions and reactions, the prince could see Orion visibly relaxing.

Good. He didn't want any of his team working on edge.

Using the finger scan on the door, Zephyr watch the room unveil before him.

Two sofas, making a 'V' shape and facing a flat screen tv. In between the two sofas was a large coffee table. The room was also equipped with its own personal kitchen. Stainless steel fridge, always fully stocked, and a dining room.

"And I thought the lounge in the Assassins Keep was nice," Orion mumbled.

At least he's relaxed, Zephyr thought before saying, "And this was made just for me. Well, it's everyone's now."

"Everyone? Right, the rest. Do you mind if I ask, who?"

Zephyr walked over to the fridge, opening the stainless steel door, and pulling out a Coke.

He offered Orion one, but the assassin shook his head.

"First of all," Zephyr started, handing the tablet he always kept on his to Orion, "a royal guard named Reiko Zeektra."

"Foreign?"

Zephyr nodded. "Don't hold it against him. He's as loyal as they come. I've know him since I was a child."

The tablet screen showed a picture of the dark skinned guard. The prince moved to the picture of the short, blonde haired medic.

"Alma Reebank. A saint through and through."

"Forgive me, but she looks like..."

"A kid. And she is. Turns sixteen in a week. But she's the best at what she does."

"She's stubborn."

"You know her."

"We're acquainted."

Taking that as an answer, the prince swiped again. This time, the assassin actually looked a little surprised. A beautiful girl adorned with Autumn hair and shimmering black eyes came up.

"She's-"

"-a criminal. A murderer to be exact. Caught at age seventeen, thrown into the The Prison at age eighteen. She's twenty-two now."

"Is she dangerous?"

"Probably. From what I've been told. We have a shock collar on her neck, just in case."

"Like an animal."

"She kills like an animal."

Zephyr could tell that the assassin wanted to argue, but he kept his mouth shut anyways.