In that small camp of their remaining men, however, a man couldn't spend too long in peaceful quiet. After a while, trouble was certain to find him, and that trouble for Oliver and Verdant came in the form of three young women.
"Captain Patrick," came a voice's cold call.
Oliver turned. There stood a creature that so well blended with the colour of the night. The shape of her was like the most perfect of shadows come to life. The angular nature of her face was as perfectly sculpted as the points on a twinkling star, and even the cold expression that always sat on seemed like some sort of comfort – like a blanket of snow, set to cloud out the sounds of the world.
He didn't recognize the woman that he looked at, not at first. That lack of recognition brought only one word to his mind: beautiful. Out of her armour, and with her bandages hidden under a long blue blouse and purple velvet coat, she seemed the very model of a creature of high society.
