A Quiet Exchange

A young samurai dressed in full regalia sat quietly among the frost covered ground and snow covered trees. It was the final call of winter as all signs pointed towards a refreshing spring after such harsh blizzards. She had come upon this quiet abode a fee years ago, having sought an isolated corner of the Iron, in order to prevent the samurai from continuing to chase her. It was only one of many bands sent to retrieve and capture her, though very few had lived to tell the tale. She was no longer bothered by the fact she had lost count of how many samurai she killed, though it had given her an infamous reputation, one she used for all its worth to try and buy a little peace. Ghost Flame was the alias that she had gone by after being named as such by one of the precious few survivors of her massacres. For her at least, this had become her haven of sorts, free to twiddle away the days as she saw fit. Part of her struggled to recall her real name, having not heard the phrase in so long.

Because her corner of the northern portion was so isolated, news was difficult to come by, a fact that bothered her occasionally. However, she found ways circumvent that, often using the survivors of her tirade as messengers of sorts, carrying news of the Iron. Flame, as she called herself now, often met them at a rendezvous point, knowing that they would have difficulty finding her current home, as well as wanting to keep it a secret for as long as possible. Tired of the safety of the home she had built among the trees, Hiaka jumped down to the forest floor, finding a small clearing where she sat down and began to meditate. It was one of the few things that calmed the Ghostly Flame while she thought of the seriousness of what she had done, how much families she had shattered with the sharpness of her blade. She knew that it was enough to make most people sick, as they wondered why they would waste so many samurai on recapturing one person. But such thoughts disappeared as she emptied her mind and fell into a deeper meditative state, calmly listening to the whispers and promises of the coming spring.