My hunter was too eager. She wore my face and she killed. She made sure people saw so they would come for me.
I went back into a cage to trap her. It was short, but I could feel the habits of a creature who is caged returning. The shuffle steps of feet chained together. The smell of piss and shit in a bucket in the heat of day.
She did not make me wait long. She came with two devils and even with no armor and my bare hands I welcomed them. Better death than the cage again.
The devils hurt me, put a fever in me deep. Even the gnome can’t get it out. But the hunter? A scratch. Almost less than. She wound up naked and bound. Again.
We took her, trussed like game for the table, to the city. There they put her in a cell and will either keep her there for a very long time, or a very short one. I hope the headsman is a poor one, that the ground may drink it’s fill.
I should have told her that I lied about the death, that it was never my hand that ended her dream, but she wouldn’t believe. The madness is inside her and all she can see is my death at her hands.
Now it is our turn to hunt. We have killed more giants and I salvaged the pelt of a dire bear. At least now I won’t sparkle in the sunlight.