I have a philosophy that you don't have to be happy with a situation to be grateful for it, because as much as you dislike something, it's not as if it can't be worse. The desert beat down on me, pelting me with its heat. The past few days had been unforgiving: Burning days of hot sands, and freezing nights of thin blankets. But I was alive, and I was grateful for that. I watched Tiervan nervously, he was younger than the rest of us, not yet used to long journeys like this. I watched each uneven step as he struggled to carry his heavy pack through the unforgiving sands.

 It was perhaps inevitable he would trip, though I'd wished so hard he wouldn't. He fell, kicking up sand as his pack spilled its contents: Platinum bars meant for the capital city. Tiervan gasped in pain at the bottom of the sand dune, gripping his ankle as tears welled in his eyes. Already the taskmaster was climbing off his horse, unlikely to like this event having happened. I was quick to rush down to the boy before the taskmaster reached him, trying to help him up. His leg was twisted, a purple hue already setting in around his ankle.

 "What's the meaning of this?" The taskmaster demanded, "Pick that up, then back in line, both of you."

 "Yes sir, we just need to-" I began, trying foolishly to explain the situation to him.

 "Are you talking back to me?" He asked in a low tone, his eyes narrowing. I felt the hair on my neck stand up, knowing what was likely coming now as my eyes drifted down to the whip at his side.

 "No, Sir. I meant no harm, Sir," I explained desperately, bowing as I spoke and affixing my eyes to my own toes, "My friend… He's hurt. If you'd allow me to just help him, I can-" I was cut off this time by naught more than a growl. The taskmaster put his hand on my shoulder, pushing me aside and looking Tiervan over.

 "What's the problem down there?" One of the nobles asked from the back of his horse.

 The taskmaster turned back to the nobles, saluting as he responded, "Sir, One of the wargs appears to be injured!"

 The noble sighed, deciding, "Very well, deal with it and let's get moving, please. This journey is long enough already."

 The taskmaster nodded, turning back to the boy and pulling a channeling coin from his pocket. My heart dropped as I watched him affix it to his metal gauntlet. "S-sir!" I stammered, looking for something to say. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm, begging, "Please allow me to-" The only response he gave was to elbow me back. I whimpered as I hit the ground, my own pack clattering against the ground as I tried to get back to my feet. The taskmaster activated the coin, a bow forming on his wrist as he approached Tiervan. I had to do something, anything. I had to stop this, somehow. My heart pounded as I tried to think of anything that might stop what was about to happen, but nothing offered itself to me. A feeling of hopelessness had begun to set in when a voice would interrupt the inevitable.

 "Excuse me? A coin for your fortune, good sirs?"

 All eyes moved to the front of the caravan, to a woman draped in a raged blue cloak. A seer, here? I almost peeked under her hood, before realizing better of it. Bad as this situation was, seers were holy. To meet one's eyes was to scoff at the sky itself. I looked down to her hands, noticing the gloves she wore. Channeler's gauntlets, like the taskmaster's. But why?

 "Move, hag," One of the nobles demanded, "We're in no mood for petty superstitions."

 "Please sir, I see unfortunate times approaching you!" The seer begged, taking a step towards the horses, "I see a woman with the most hideous warts! She means to bed your own father, and- Oh… No… That already happened…" The noble she spoke to tilted his head in confusion. Before he could respond, the seer raised one of her gauntlets, firing a bolt of blue light which split his brow and knocked him off his horse. A thunderous roar came with the shot, the horses whinny in terror as they bucked. The taskmaster's eyes went wide, raising his own weapon to fire back.

 The seer discarded her cloak, blinding the taskmaster with it as he fired into the wind. Acting on instinct, I dove, covering Tiervan with my arm as another shot rang out. I felt something wet splatter my back, then the taskmaster hit the ground holding his throat. The seer took two quick steps towards the remaining noble, clenching their other hand as a short blade formed on their gauntlet. The noble had barely gotten his horse under control when the faux seer vaulted up, jamming the blade between his ribs as he cried out in pain. The whole thing was over before anyone even knew what was happening.

 Those who remained were all warg, all too afraid to move. The woman took a second, catching her breath. I glanced up at her, no longer afraid to look upon her now that I knew she wasn't a seer. She was a tall woman, with short hair the color of a setting sun and eyes that glistened silver. She wore simple clothes: Riding pants and an orange vest over a white shirt that had been stained by the sand. Both her hands were wrapped in black leather channeler gauntlets. After a while, she seemed to catch herself, noticing the latter of the nobles attempting to crawl away. She walked towards him, expression uncaring as he dragged himself across the sand. She raised her wrist, a third shot ending the man before she began to rifle through his pockets. She'd eventually decide on taking his coin pouch, before turning her attention to the wargs.

 She approached the three wargs at the top of the dune, muttering as she passed them, "No… No… Perhaps…" She almost seemed to be assessing them. She looked at the last one, an older warg with graying hair and ears. "Perhaps…" She repeated thoughtfully, "You remind me of my father, I could use that…" That was when her eyes met mine, something alighting in them as she hurried down the dune. "Yes, yes, yes!" She cheered, making her way over to me, "Let me get a look at you, stand please." I glanced down at Tiervan, the boy having passed out in all the excitement and pain. Nervously, I stood. The woman with gorgeous hair looked me over, smiling excitedly. "What a find! Anyone would believe I would buy such a handmaid!"

 "Are you going to hurt us?" I asked, swallowing nervously.

 "Not you," she said, inspiring a terror as I looked to the others. I almost felt relieved as she clarified, "My target is human in nature, I assure you." She took a step towards me, offering me her hand as she introduced, "My name is Fleur, and I'm an assassin by trade." She offered me another second to take her hand, which I was too nervous to even fully register she wanted me to do. Finally, she lowered her hand, glancing over my shoulder to Tiervan as she hissed in empathy. "That's a nasty bruise…" She decided, looking back up to the others and pointing to the younger two of them, "You two make sure this boy gets help. There's a trader post a day's walk to the east willing to trade you fairly for the god's metal you carry. After that, head south. You four will be in warg territory before the weekend."

 She'd turn to me confidently, explaining, "You, on the other hand, will have to earn your freedom I'm afraid…"

 True to her word, she allowed the others that still lived to leave, plucking the taskmaster's coin from his gauntlet as she muttered, "Cheaply made, and only half full… But mine's empty, so perhaps an improvement…" Examining the coin as she did.

 "What have you intended for me, ma'am?" I asked nervously, eyes drifting unconsciously to the dead body at her feet.

 The strange assassin tossed the coin into the air, catching it as she said happily, "Simple: We're going to kill a High Lord." And in that moment, my philosophy was shattered: For the first time, there was no worse remaining fate for me to fear.