Heavy breathes erupted from her lunges and she ran for her life.
It was a year after her Mother had passed away and young Hath was caught stealing from a bandit yet again. It was better than taking from the townsfolk after all! Tears falling down her face, she couldn't help it, she needed the coin and something to fill her belly.
The ruffian quickly had caught up with her and grabbed her by the throat, ordering her to drop the coin. She was a foolish girl to wander outside of town in the dead of night, the roads were often full of bandits like the one here. Gasping for air and clutching the coin not wanting to give it back to someone of his liking, even in her dangerous position. Aiming a weak kick for his gut, the bandit's grasp only tightened and she truly was choking now.
Luckily three arrows had fallen onto her foe all from behind, not one missing it's mark. The bandit fell as the arrows pierced his spine. Down fell young Hathriell as well, regaining her breath, quite relieved that she still had the coin and her life.
Despite this, she did not go without a scolding from her Saviour, not for stealing from a ruffian, but for wandering alone at night.
The bowman looked down at the girl, who was only eleven winters at the time and called her Little dove, despite the fact she was scrawny and plain by most standards, she had an elegance about her as well as a grace. She had fought back tears, upon hearing the name as it was the very same, her Mother would always call her.
The man had seemed to be a simple bowman at first, until she saw a pendent it looked like a star a curious thing.
Yet, Hathriell had not known anything about The Dunedain then, he was not unkind but not exactly welcoming, he had given her one name and one name alone and that was Corthel, he had escorted her back to town and gave her a dagger, sadly she did not know how to use it. With a swift parting he had claimed he would find her again one day, but matters took him elsewhere.
Who knew being a street rat could be so interesting?
