“She’ll never love ye Cuor! You’re playing a fool!” Gita watched as Cuor left the clearing, eyes dark. She crouched down on the palms of her feet and leaned against a tree, placing the dart back in her bandoleer. Eyes, narrowed she sat there in thought. Cuor is a fool. That Swan Lady will never know him as anything but a monster. He is destroying her town and by doing so, she herself. She shook her head of the thoughts and stood.
“Good,” she said simply. “The people of Swan Wood,” she spat the name with distaste, “will know their place. Then Cuor will see,” bottled anger rose in her throat, “Fool!” She turned and fled the clearing, racing back to her tent. It was behind that of the king’s, made of dark green fabrics to blend into the trees. Far from the camp’s center, she had the most privacy here, and quickly changed into a costume that would serve her next mission: that of a servant in the house of the Swan Lady. Tonight, there was to be a meeting with Laurel’s recruits and Taralphiel herself. Gita didn’t want to miss it!
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"They call this war a cloud over the land. But they made the weather and then they stand in the rain and say, 'Sh*t, it's raining!'" -- Ruby, Cold Mountain
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