[Amanaduial the archer]

Aman sat by a small stream, trying to clear her mind. Soon her breathing slowed down and she took a deep breath, listening to the soothing stream. She looked at the knife she had cut Lindir with and once again she almost felt sick. His blood. She looked at the scar on her hand which had now split open. His blood.
Poisoning her.
She would show him. Yes, the witches would show him. She smiled to herself. Slowly and painfully.

As she walked back to the tree where she had left them she suddeny stiffened. She was used to eavesdropping on the others conversations and felt there to be no wrong in it- Thrakat would do it to her. But the words...
"...You'll die no matter what happens, but if you do what I want, I'll slit your throat, and you need never see Aman again. I could make your last minutes here a pleasure for both of us. What do you say?"
The red head started to burn with rage. So that was how she played it. Aman looked at the split cut on her palm before clenching her fist. A tear fell from her eye onto the fist and she started to shake. This wasnt how she wanted it. And although she could never come back to the old Amanaduial, she would not let this one go any further...
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Lindir gawped at the beauty standing in front of him, taking in every detail. She was so beautiful and persuasive...her pale skin....the low, slightly slit dress....
His concience cried in a corner of his mind against it, but how could he resist? He knew magic must have been involved, but he still pulled against it...
She leant forward, her lips slightly parted, her head slightly turned to kiss him, and he in return turned...no...no...
The witch jerked suddenly as if something had hit her from behind. Lindir stared at her. Had he really been about to...no, he couldnt have...
Looking up the boy saw Aman raise her flame covered hand for another jolt to hit the dark one with. Lindirs breath was taken away. Her hair flew behind her as if blown by an imaginary wind emanating from Thrakat, the flames seemed alive as they moved up and down her arm and her eyes were glowing silver.
As she jolted a shot out of her hand, Thrakat moved like a snake to counter it with ice. She had been caught unaware though, and was still smarting from the last blow, her shoulder burnt and sore, giving Aman the advantage. A shard of ice broke past the flames though, hitting Amans shoulder. Let the battle begin...