Ukeo's lungs burned with acid, legs straining as they sank with each step into the sandy ground of the dirt path. Jac was running beside her like a man possessed. In a way, he was. Inflicted with a merciless yearning for vengeance. Mere seconds after the realisation that one of the Colloseans had fled, the two of them had taken off in pursuit. It was a chase driven by love for the wounded Qalun and fear of the very real likelihood that the loose Collosean would weave tales to his superiors about 'brute Ruskelites' who killed the 'innocent' recruits in cold blood.

  Ukeo glanced at Jac in the blue summer's night, and saw blazing eyes in the darkness. He probably didn't even really care about the second factor in this moment. The moon was full that eve. Coupled with their superior knowledge of the land, Ukeo liked their chances, but the Collosean border was not that far away. Jac came to a skidding halt, dirt from the path billowing upwards in his wake in a beige cloud. Ukeo was about to question his action when suddenly she saw it too: A gap in the tall phragmite reeds lining the cart road and the unmistakable tracking pattern of running prey seen in the stamped flora.

  'He must've heard us gaining on him an' cut into the reeds.' Panted Ukeo. 'It's a longer route to the border but he's betting on using the plants as cover.'

  'That's what I'd do,' said Jac, 'knowin' as he should what's coming for him.'

  Ukeo gripped the sheathed sword she'd picked up from under Qalun and Jac's house as they started their chase. 'Let's go,' she said, 'we can't waste time.'

  They dissapeared into the dense thicket of reeds, following with precision and haste the tracks of the fleeing sailor. The ground was even less forgiving now than the dirt path. The watergrass was growing from loose mounds of spongey soil that seemed to move by it's own volition, and frequently the pair would loose their footing and sink shin-deep into fragrant patches of dank marsh. The place felt an antagonist to Ukeo. The air was stifling, and the reeds, which outgrew her by at least two feet, seemed to push back against each movement, like they were protecting their fief.

  The marks left by the pursued Collosean were also growing shallower, less obvious, as if he had learned to lighten his step. Ukeo came to a stop at a fork in the form of two carved gaps in the blades, each of equal quality and depression.

  'Which way?' She asked, her voice hushed in case the recruit was nearby. They listened out for any sign of rustling, but there was only silence set against the rapid pulsing of blood in their ears.

  'We 'ave to be close to the bastard.' Whispered Ukeo. 'He must be crouching, gatherin his energy. Surely we'd hear some sign of movement ahead by now based on our gains.'

  'This grassland is thick.' returned Jac. 'It can block sound like a wooden wall', remember when we used to play in here as youngans?'

  'Aye,' said Ukeo, 'I remember Qalun getting stuck chest deep in the marsh that one time.' A fresh fury took hold in her as she remembered her closest friend, his youthful face now cleft in two, the blond locks soaked with crimson. 'We should split, take a path each.' She continued. 'Sound the horn if you spot him, I'll make a swallow bird's call.'

  'Okay... Good luck.' Said Jac, and he took off to the left, vanishing quickly within the woody, cylindrical grass. Ukeo felt in that moment a surge of loneliness, but quashed it, and refocused the anger once more before darting through the righthand path.

  She tried to think as the sailor would. The route that Jac had taken was a straighter shot to the border, and delved into thicker undergrowth, making it the logical course to take. But how could the Collosean know this? Their orientation was clouded by an albeit-fading drunkenness of some sort, and in this place every direction looked alike. He'd could rely on the mountains in the distance that banked the great Triskellion Valley, but they were shrouded by night, and so far away that they couldn't provide too accurate a position.

  A clearing emerged from the sea of blades, and at its centre, a pond with a surface like black glass. Ukeo looked about her. She could still see well enough with the full moon and tapestry of stars above. The ground had grown firmer here, as she remembered it did from her younger years. Like that one time She found the old frog pond at the far south of the marsh, where a patch of bedrock formed - the very same ground that circled the pondwater in a near perfect ring. She wasn't far from the borderline now, not one bit, and neither was the sailor. Jac's horn had not blown yet, though would it be heard past the maze of reeds?

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  It mattered not anyway. Suddenly, the Sailor stumbled, gasping, into the clearing, as if he'd just broken himself from the vice-like grip of some beast. Even in the shadows he looked ravaged, scared. It pleased Ukeo, to see him look so lost in an alien place, not knowing whether he was feet or miles from safety. She stood rooted to the spot, as still as the waters of the pond. But not from fear of being seen. She was merely biding her time. Part of her, she admitted to herself far later, was simply savouring the capture; A beautiful scallop shell had revealed itself before her very eyes.

  The Collossean appeared to be regaining some of his composure now though. The panting was lessening in depth and he was beginning to lift himself from the floor and onto his knees. Ukeo started to move around the edge of the pond in a half crouch, her diving shoes treading softly on the more compact soil, watching as a predator would for any notion of alarm from the prey, keeping steady, patient in the pace. She kept her sword sheathed to avoid it catching the moonlight, but her grip lay on the silver-sewn handle. Her Father's sword. Her Father had always loved Qalun, as if he were his own son. He'd be happy his sword tasted vengeful blood. Though he'd never show it on the surface, such was his way.

  Ukeo was just a few metres away now, and even with her light feet and smooth movement, was still surprised the Sailor hadn't sensed her yet. The boy must be in a sort of delirium of exhaustion. She made her move. In one quick motion, she swung her sword forward and leaped, grunting with the exertion. The Sailor turned at the sound, bug-eyed, and released a shocked yelp as he witnessed the young raven-haired Ruskelite crashing into him, sword asunder. He toppled backward, forearms raised in reflexive defense, and slid slightly down the tiny bank of the pond until the back of his head splashed into the shallows, breaking the glass of the water.

  Ukeo was atop him, a menacing grimace spreading accross her face. She felt twisted by revenge, her conscience quashed by some deeper animalistic drive. The sword lay horizontally between the two of them, Ukeo pushing it downwards into the Sailor, one hand on the small crossguard and the other on the blade itself. The sharp edge was gouging a heavy groove into her palm but the other side was sinking far deeper into the crossed forearms of the Sailor. This was the first time Ukeo had seen the young Collosean up close. He had a sharp, square chin and acne-riddled cheeks, and a mild underbite of tombstone teeth now thrust out in a bare grimace.

  He was a stocky boy, weighing probably fifty pounds more than Ukeo, she guessed, but gravity was backing her with its perpetual power. She knew though, if it weren't for his spent energy, the fight would likely be taking a very different turn. Further and further the sword sank, moving with juttering pace like the front of a rowboat, until it lay but mere inches from his neck.

  'Please. Mercy.' Said the boy, gulping his dry throat. Ukeo had never previously held any animosity towards the Collosean people, particularly compared to many of her fellow Ruskelites, and had always held a fondness for the Collosean accent, with its melodic nature, the fluid lilts and pitches and occasional gentle lisp, but in this moment his voice grated on her like sandpaper.

  'Why should I be merciful?' Ukeo hissed the words, trying not to show any tiredness in the utterance. 'You cut the kindness from my best friend's face, and now I know not whether I'll be returning to his corpse!'

  The sailor's expression grew even more panicked, the face of one standing before death's docket with heart full of regrets, seeing the years that once lay before him being bought at fair price, the bargain he set with his foolish choices.

  'I didn't mean to!' He cried, not even attempting to deny it, the words coming as a whimper. 'He was coming at me. It was a defence. It wasn't even my idea to sneak over here!'

  'And yet you did anyway.'

  The blade was now sticking and moving against the sweaty, malleable skin above his adam's apple, his forearms pinned tight to his chest. The sailor tried one final move, a desperate plea to any potential nearby Collosean border scouts.

  'Help! Help! Hel-' but before he could cry out a third time, Ukeo gave all her strength to one final push, and forced the blade into his throat.

  The Sailor's arms went loose on the sword as he gargled on blood and then his eyelids closed, wearily. Ukeo went numb with realisation. This was the first time she'd taken a human life. From the very moment she'd become cognizant of the boy's escape until this one, here in the shallows of a still-rippling pond, she'd been possessed by murderous intent, blind to any other destiny. But now her mind was desperately trying to reason with the picture before her.

  She sat in a state of dissociation that lasted seconds but felt as hours, before snapping from it at the sound of rustling among the reeds, and footsteps. She righted her posture, listening like a deer in a still wood. The treading grew nearer, but they sounded odd. What was it? Then she came to a sickening realisation. It sounded like more than one man. Had the Sailor's final words alerted the Colloseans?