2. Complicated

"Huntress."

Imperious, demanding and completely naked - that's the Hunter for you, and right there in her tent. Of course, it was scaled down to her size, so His head vanished somewhere into the bent bough roof, leaving her with an uncomfortable view. Regal and divine, trees be damned, it was clear He was awaiting a reply.

"Lord Haern."

What else do you say really, in that sort of situation?

Lots of silence, then. Perhaps He was reconsidering this visit. Maybe He was planning how to punish her for being short. He wouldn't be the first nor the last. Finally, a shower of pine needles boomed down at her, "I need you to win me a war."

Oh, nothing major then.

"I...umm..."

"Articulate," the leaves commented.

"I try. A war?"

Branches shook. Probably a nod.

"For Duiran? I really don't think they would be on board with tha-"

A violent rustling. Not Duiran.

"I..."

"Ashtan," He answered.

"Ashtan?" she echoed.

"Ashtan," He confirmed.

At this point, she just kept quiet. It was clear He had something in mind, and, besides, that last head shake had knocked a pinecone against her temple.

A few moments of decorous quiescence ensued. A bird nearby erupted into merry song. His hand shot out and caught it, roughly, and there was a squawking "pop," showering her with a scatter of dusty feathers. She blinked.

"I need an agent," He finally stated. "You."

Sure. Infiltrate a city that hung wanted posters of her. Sneak around, get some info before any guards cottoned on. Doable. She'd done more with less warning befor-

"You will lead their armies."

Oh.

"You will lead their armies, and retake My Temple."

Oh boy.

"And nobody will know what you are doing or why. Nobody CAN know. You will be utterly alone - the forests cannot know, not yet."

Well, this certainly sounds easy.

"You will be My hidden arrow, and you will strike Me a vital blow. A needed blow."

Flattery will get you everywhere.

Another fall of pine needles, and then His face was before her, His eyes, green and deep and hungry and feral, swimming with the Hunt, that was all she could see. She felt herself slipping.

"And when you are done, when you do this for Me," He whispered, one hand lightly cupping her cheek with rough, calloused fingers. "When you do this, you shall return to the forests. I will blow the horns of welcome, Myself, and none will ever dare doubt you again." And in that heartbeat before He vanished, she was His, gone, loyal.

Simple.