"Wait."
The voice was soft, too soft to echo, yet it slithered into the ears of every assassin like a serpent's whisper, paralyzing them mid-step. From behind a thicket, she emerged; Blood, draped in her crimson gown that shimmered faintly under the moonlight like silk soaked in rubies.
Her eyes, like frozen wine, scanned the glowing camp ahead with a faint smile, one that never touched her eyes.
"Wait until it's almost dawn," she murmured, her tone cold and controlled. "They'll be much weaker then."
Crossing her arms, she tilted her head ever so slightly, a delicate scowl curving her lips as if the sight before her displeased her on a primal level.
After a long, silent wait, the morning dew clung to every blade of grass and dulled the sharpness of the eyes. A pale mist curled along the earth, softening outlines and swallowing the camp's distant edges.
