It was long before dawn when I climbed the steep hill. I had all the information I needed; I knew this would be the perfect place to perch, the perfect place to wait. The hill was one of many that over looked a wide valley. The trees atop this hill were sparse and thin. There were several other hills with more coverage, but I choose this one for two reasons: The way it was positioned gave me the widest view of the valley, and because it was so thinly covered, no one would suspect anything from this way.

Once I found a good spot among the brush, I shrugged my bag and quiver from my back and set to carefully stringing my bow. When that was done I laid it next to my quiver and did a mental check. This was a simple mission, but that was even more of a reason to be cautious; it would be a shame to mess up something so easy. I looked over my freshly strung bow and quiver of my sharpest arrows, that, along with the information in my head, was all I needed. I, of course, had long since destroyed the letter that set me on my mission; I owed that much to the one that hired me. They paid well and I couldn’t have the law sniffing around should something go awry. I had memorized the details: my target’s appearance, brief description of those she was traveling with, and they time they were expected to pass through the valley.

I crouched down in the brush. If the letter was correct I still had a bit of time. Still, I pulled an arrow from my quiver and tested the strength of my bow string; making sure I had it taunt enough. I had a clear shot over most of the valley and was sure, crouching as I was, that the brush and trees would hide me well enough. I relaxed my bow, and set it down. I turned to focusing my attention on the target’s appearance. When I had first read the letter I had the strangest idea---but I knew fate would never be that cruel to me. Though as I called back the target’s description, I couldn’t help but think--- that just maybe. . . Fate couldn’t be that cruel, it just couldn’t.

I didn’t know my target’s sin. I didn’t care— that wasn’t my job. My job was to aim my bow and shoot, to make it as quick and clean as possible, before disappearing. The ones traveling with her were safe unless I felt the mission was compromised.

The sun was slowly rising, and I picked my bow back up and readied an arrow. I ran the details through my mind, once more. That was the one thing that made these kinds of missions— getting one person out of a group— a bit more difficult. I couldn’t risk hitting the wrong person. If I did, I’d have to kill them all, and that would be messy and unnecessary. I had to focus on the details I was given about my target.

Light, silver hair, short lean body; should be wearing a simple outfit of a small bright tunic with tight dark leggings. There would be only one, maybe two other females in the group.

The hair, such a rare trait…. but I dismissed it. Fate couldn’t be that cruel.

The sun was barely over the hills when the group came into the valley. I pulled myself into a more attentive position and pulled the arrow back, preparing to take aim. I grumbled and lowered my weapon. It was too hard to see! I was impatient, and I didn’t want to wait for them to get too close. I laid my bow and arrow down and pulled a small scope from my pocket.

I knew as soon as I focused in on the group. There were a few on horseback and the others were walking along side them— including my target. I was surprised, somehow, despite all the obvious signs, I was surprised. I nearly dropped my scope; it was really her.

There was a brief moment when I wanted to run down the hill and embrace her, completely forgetting my mission. Of course I didn’t. I couldn’t. Instead I picked my bow back up and yet again readied my arrow, this time my eyes locked on the target. Yes, that was all she was now— the target.

I pulled the string back further, and for some reason found my hands shaking. I dropped my arms, taking a few deep breaths. I couldn’t blow off this mission simply because a ghost from my past decided to show up.

Feeling a bit more steadied, I picked my bow back up and readied my arrow, for what I hoped was the last time. I pulled my string back, aimed and ready to fire.

My eyes were locked on her— no—the target. I had a clear shot but another in the group would occasionally get in the way. I swallowed hard and waited from them to move a bit closer.

My hand stared to shake again, but I gripped the bow tighter. She was a target, just like any other, and I would carry out this mission, just like any other. I took a deep breath, hoping the group would move faster— I shouldn’t be allowed to sit and think like this! I needed to act before some strange force changed my mind.

Finally, the clearest shot I was going to get! I normally went for two targets on the body: the head or the heart. It was a tradition of mine to kill all female targets with an arrow to the head—it was quicker, less of a margin for error and for a mercenary, I considered myself a bit of a gentleman, as off as that sounds.

I took my aim, my hands as steady as they had ever been. I lined up the point of my arrow with her pretty silver hair, took a deep breath and—

I fired, only after my arm jerked down on its own accord.

The arrow flew—and I knew in reality it took less than a second for it to reach its target, but to me it seemed to take forever. I already was reaching for another arrow in case I was off horribly and would have a mess to clean up.

I saw the arrow hit her; I saw her go down. I knew it was over and in a flash I had my quiver over my shoulder; I knew it wouldn’t take long for her group to figure out where the arrow had come from.

I spared on last glance, very much against my normal code of noninvolvement, and saw the arrow protruding from her chest and her party members panicking.

Not my usual work, but fitting, I thought before rushing down the other side of the hill. The sun was already bright in the morning sky.