The Night was cold, a breeze carried cold air from the north and Cara shivered under her cloak. As soon as the sun had set behind the horizon temperatures were dropping rapidly now.

The snow beneath her feet shifted slightly and Cara froze, a small shift could mean sending snow onto the streets beneath her and revealing her position. Which would probably lead to arrows being shot at her... she shook her head slightly. Nobody knew she was around and now archer with half a brain would be waiting somewhere in the night just in case a spy was sneaking around... especially since the last purge had supposedly killed all spies of Blackriver.

Still being more careful could never hurt, something her target should have thought about before telling every whore in the city he was part of a secret group of mercenaries hires by the leaders of Goldhill...

The man below the roof she was clinging to, slowly straightened up and pulled up his pants, a steaming yellow stain to his feet. A burp sounded followed by a chuckle. When the man finally began moving again Cara let a sigh escape her lips. The magic she was cloaking herself with was difficult to maintain and if this continued on the way it did now she would soon need to give up and return home.

Bartholomew was paranoid and the only way he had let her out of the house was if she swore to be back before the magic failed her. The lessons in shadow magic had proven to be faster than any of them could have imagined, within the first day Cara had been able to access the magic and within a week she could cloak herself to a degree... so far she was only able to have her figure blur into the things behind her and during the day she couldn't even do that right but Bartholomew had been shocked by the pace at which she learned magic.

At night Cara managed to stay borderline invisible next to snow, which was about the easiest background imaginable. Keeping the magic flowing and concentrating on her cloak was not as difficult as she had imagined and Cara could keep it up for nearly two hours at a time.

The target continued his way through the streets calling after a whore at some point but when the woman ignored him he continued his way towards the edge of the inner city.

Every few turns the man seemed to get lost as he backtraced his own steps until he finally stopped in front of an old warehouse. He knocked two times waited for three seconds and then knocked again once.

The door was pulled open and warm light fell onto the street.

"Good night?" a hoarse voice asked.

"A bit cold I suppose." The man answered, every word clearly spoken as if he had suddenly sobered up.

"Shit, how long do we have to keep doing this? Every idiot in town must know about you now, if they haven't acted yet they either are too dumb to notice or scared so shitless they won't act no matter what." The other man croaked before pulling the door completely open.

Two more men exited the shadow beneath Cara, she nearly lost her footing when they appeared. Swords on their side and moving quietly through the snow.

An ambush! Bartholomew had been right to be paranoid. The three men entered the building and Cara slowly pulled herself up the roof and began carefully walking back the way she came. Her senses on high alert, if she had not managed to see the two men following her target there was no telling if there were more of them around.

After making sure no one had followed her she climbed onto the tailor's shop from the roof next to it and opened the window to her room. Quietly she closed it behind her and began removing the cloak, a bit of snow landed on the floor and Cara hung the cold clothes over the chimney part that ran through her room.

With any luck the warm stone would dry it before the morrow. Bartholomew would need to be informed about the ambush and any nightly adventures suspended for the time being, at least until more could be learned about the two men that had escaped her sight today.

A sound outside her door had her freeze mid movement, a slight creak as someone shifted his or her weight from one foot to the other. Cara pulled her halved scissor from her side and moved to the door. A faint metallic click sounded as whoever was behind the door turned the doorknob. Silence spread in the moments after the metallic sound, Cara tensed, her hands were sweating, whoever was behind the door was making sure she stayed asleep.

Had someone followed her? Another mage perhaps? Someone that had seen through her cloak? Sweat gathered on her forehead, the suspense was worse than the actual fight would be, or so she told herself.

A noise from behind the door had her heart skip a beat, metal scratching over wood, someone had just drawn a longknife, fear spread in Cara, she was not prepared for a fight.

A metallic ringing sound the blade made when it left the scabbard fully, told her the blade was considerably longer than the average hunting knife.

Creaks sounded as whoever was behind the door shifted his weight again.

With a loud bang the door was thrown open, a slim shadow stormed into the room, racing towards the bed where Cara was supposed to sleep, a blade was raised and sank into the space where her neck would have been.

The knife sank deep into the rolled blanket that mimicked a sleeping Angela, the figure stopped dead in her tracks, turning just in time to see Cara’s blade.

The tip of her blade tore through the man’s upper brow failed to penetrate the skull and cut through his right eyelid.

A scream broke the silence, the man reeled back and stumbled over one of her books footsteps closed in fast now, people yelled and Cara quickly stripped of her shirt. If people saw her in full get up things would end even worse than being assaulted by a stranger.

The man on the floor groaned, groggily he got back up on his feet holding his head, blood dropped on the wood to his feet.

Cara pulled over one of her night goans and rushed to the door, screaming.

“Help, a man!” Angely woke up groggily to her own screams, then she saw the bloody man in front of her, reaching out for her.

She ran through the doorway and nearly collided with Saulus, her father was holding up a knife from his shop, and something behind his back.

“Get back Angela! Let me and the Guard deal with this!” He rushed past and into her room, followed closely by their Guardsman.

A scream sounded then something hit the floor, confused words followed then another much quieter scream, something thrashed around in the room. Then her father emerged from the room, his hands were covered in blood, Angela screamed again and fainted.

Cara took over just in time to catch her balance again.

“Now?” She asked, Bartholome.

“The Guard killed the intruder but received a fatal cut to his neck.” Their eyes met, Cara nodded, they would need to lay low and hope the follower was alone.

Servants rushed to Cara’s aid as she fell backwards into their arms, she was a frail girl after all. The last thing she heard was the front door opening and heavy boots kicking in the front door.