He wasn't certain how long he'd been running. All Kalhoun knew was that it had been dusk when he'd made his mistake, and it was pitch black out now--storm clouds had moved in, obscuring the night sky, and making it near impossible to see. Even his elven blood did not assist him in this complete absence of light. Normally he could lose hunters on horseback easily enough by slipping into the dense parts of the forest, but not tonight. He already risked a broken nose just by dashing through the dark the way he had been. In all honesty, the rogue had no idea how he had avoided injury this long.

Hoofbeats still echoed somewhere off to his left, keeping pace with him on the road. How the young human girl was able to see in this he could only guess--let alone convince her mount to keep that pace, when he was certain it couldn't see. She must have had some sort of aid. There was no way she could track his progress over the sound of the horse's hooves--he had always had a talent for near-silent movement, even while in a full-out run.

It had all been one horrible mistake. A mistake anyone could have made, really, he assured himself. She had looked like an easy target for any thief--a young noble girl, traveling alone, leading her mare through the winding streets of the marketplace. She was a pretty thing, really, perhaps eleven years in age. There hadn't been any weapons apparent on her person. Her purse had been hanging heavily at her belt. Normally, Kalhoun wouldn't have stolen from a child--even one who appeared so pampered as this. But it had been a long, fruitless day, he was near-starving, and she had walked with a certain arrogance that he had felt the need to alter. Assuming her to be distracted with the sights of the marketplace, the red-haired thief had snuck up behind her. Normally, he would have bumped into a victim, dipping his hand into their purse at the same time, before apologizing profusely for his clumsiness--most nobles were too distracted with reprimanding him to notice a few missing coin until later, if at all. But Kalhoun had been tired, and she had seemed like such an easy target, he merely slipped up behind her.

That was where he had gone wrong. His hand hadn't even made contact with the latch of her belt purse before the child had whirled about. Moving faster than even Kalhoun could follow, she had snatched his wrist and twisted, yanking him off-balance, one foot sweeping out to hook his ankle. Under normal circumstances, this would have knocked him off of his feet and, had she kept ahold of him, broken his wrist. But Kalhoun's elven mother had given him better reflexes than most, and his life on the streets had given him a certain desperation as far as getting caught went. He had managed to roll with the throw, and, through pure determination, yank away from her, so that he landed in a tumble in the dirt. Not wanting to wait around for her to call the guards, he had done the only thing he could think of--he had run. He would slip away into the darker paths of the marketplace before she entirely understood that he had gone. But such was not the case. There was a creak of leather as the girl mounted up behind him, immediately followed by hoofbeats as her mare began pursuit.

He had been running ever since then, out of the very gates of the city, hoping to lose her in the dense parts of the Royal Forest. But by the time he had gotten far enough away from the capitol to encounter one of these thick patches of trees, the clouds had gathered and night had fallen, leaving him in this impenetrable darkness.

His breath was rasping now, chest heaving desperate lungfuls of air. The rogue's face and arms were stinging from various encounters with thorns, twigs, and other nettles. He had to do something, make some decision. She was obviously keeping pace with him like this. He either needed to risk that broken nose and try to disappear in the thicker foliage, or he needed to come up with a new plan. He was wearing out, and her horse's gait didn't seem to be faltering in the slightest.The initial adrenaline rush he had gotten out of nearly being caught was running low after so long.

Making his decision, he skidded into a turn, changing direction abruptly for the thicker parts of the forest. He had just started to throw his arms up before him, praying that he wouldn't crash into anything too suddenly, when his sharp ears caught something out of place--a snap of a twig underfoot, immediately to his right, a near-silent intake of breath. She's behind me. She's been behind me for most of this chase, he realized with a jolt, hands grasping for his weapons. How did she--? She had dismounted without his knowledge, somehow, mid-chase, from a moving horse, and gotten behind him. And somehow, she had kept up with him for gods only knew how long, running even quieter than he--quietly enough that even elven ears had not heard her. Who was this kid?

He had less than a second to yank his dagger from his belt before the girl dropped to one knee, cleanly sweeping his feet out from beneath him. Only pure desperation allowed him to keep a grip on his weapon as he went down, a grunt escaping him as he landed flat on his back, his head snapping back into the dirt with a jarring suddenness. Still struggling to pull air back into his lungs, he hardly registered the twist of his wrist that forced him to drop his dagger. It was difficult, however, to miss the pressure of her boot on his wind pipe. The rogue squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the inevitable snap, but the pressure there was light--more of a threat than an attack. Brows knitting, Kalhoun simply lay there for what felt like an eternity, catching his breath, mind racing for a way out.

"Who are you?" he finally gasped, voice cracking with exhaustion.

"My name is Lady Eve of Sair, daughter of Lord Robalt and Lady Mavra. Surrender or be killed."

Oh, balls.