There was no forest.

If he did not think about the forest, there was no forest.

It was as easy as that.

Because, you see, Jess was certainly not crashing through the forest on a large white horse.  Nor was any mysterious undergrowth brushing his legs.  Or, for that mater, the threat of tiny creatures falling into his now tangled mass of fine chestnut hair.  Strange, frightening noises emerging from the darkened depths of vegetation?  Nonsense.  Jess Stanton was Ignoring the forest, and doing a rather successful job of it.  Such denial was beyond easy for him.  Driving away the fatigue of muscles or mind had been ridiculously simple for years, and it didn't take a large amount of intelligence to to maintain concentration on the sky above and path ahead.  Keen eyes, perhaps... but a penchant for reading the fine print had given him plenty of practice in that respect.

Paying less attention to his own failure, however, was another matter entirely.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid.  This was all his own fault, of course.  How could he have trusted those lovestruck twits which had managed to head off on some fool course of alternate pursuit?  Their miserable failure to keep whatever idiot creature dared to interfere with his plans was a blatantly obvious sign of incompetence. Not that he should have counted on them in the first place.  Chalk that one up to his own momentary idiocy.  And letting his mind wander under the duress of idleness like that... what had he been thinking?  This forsaken patch of nowhere was taking it's toll on his intellect - useless swath of wasted space that it was.  What a joke.  Idiot Highlanders didn't even have enough sense to log the place.

Jess thrived on the scrap heap of civilization.  This was not civilization.

Someone really should do something about that.

Shadowed eyes scanned the horizon, ensuring that their fix on a slowly drifting speck was not disturbed.  Said eyes were somewhat bloodshot, to be sure - and though adrenaline and sheer strength of will managed to sustain their owner, his horse was far less fortunate.  Stupid animal.  No mere physical limitation was going to disrupt his plans.  Not this time.  Whatever had taken his Book was going to pay.  Dearly.

Whatever goes up must come down, after all.

And hopefully somewhere outside the forest which was not giving his spine faint chills.  And it WAS not giving his spine faint chills.  Jess didn't have time for that.  For the Book... the Book was waiting - and he had had just about enough of random, nonsensical disruptions to his plans.  Things weren't supposed to go that way when one was smart enough.

That was the reason that this whole situation was fairly lucridious.  Was this what hunters did non a regular basis for no apparent reason other than some rancid, wild meat?  Did they actually enjoy the stinging wind brought on by velocity rushing past them, or the greenery covered with rotting parasites?  Morons.

Not that that mattered.  Jess had reconciled himself to that fact that destiny would have to be taken into his own hands long ago.  This... was just a roadblock.

The speck was getting larger.  So was the politician's maniacal grin.  An observer might hope that such a smile was brought on by lack of sleep...

An observer would only have been half right.

Neine Chirak was rich... rich!  Finally she'd done something right.  Well, she assumed that it was right.  Whatever she was carrying was heavy enough to be hopefully, maybe, possibly gold....

Who was she kidding?

She was worthless.  It was probably a big... rock, or something.  Maybe even worse than a rock.  Maybe even an artificial rock.  Maybe even some kind of fake bag filled with fake goods designed purposely to fool bandits while all of the real valuable stuff was hidden away in some secret place or something.

Tired.  The winger was even tired.  Hours of flight tended to do that to someone, but... well.. knowing her luck there was some kind of monster or search party following her.  Yep, a monster.  A really, really big monster.  It could probably fly invisibly or something - and she'd been going so slowly it would easily catch her.  And there she was, loser that she was, getting all tired.  Neine had to keep going... but her shoulders were burning with exhaustion.  The trees... they just looked so inviting... maybe just a minute would be all right.

The dread burden of continued motion was relieved in the swift descent to a nearby branch.  Even the rough bark felt good on her clawed feet - hell, a perch of thorns would have done right about then.

Gulping in breaths of the heavier surface air like a chain-smoker wo'd been missing her tobacco for a week, the winger settiled into complecence.  She was weak, the girl knew.  Weak and stupid.  That was what all of them said, anyways.... ever since she was little.  They would have to be right, of course.  Her friends... they were always right.

She was lucky that they wanted to know her.  She really, really was.  All of them were such talented bandits.. more than capable of getting along without a piece of dead weight like Neine.  It wasn't their fault that they had to remind her of that.. and didn't she deserve to be the one with the longest patrol?  Of course she did.

They would have scolded her for landing like this... but it felt so good.

Now if only she really had hit the jackpot, they weould be so pleased! Finally, the winger would be one of them.

Slowly, the package was divested of it's linin covering, to reveal a red leather... book?

All of that trouble for a  book!?!

And hope came crashing down.

There are different kinds of depression.  Manic and clinical.  Self indulgent, of course.  And the inky black descent of a despair with no known origin - the mists of self-doubt closing in from the recesses of a scattered mind.  The thief should have been used to such depression.  In point of fact, she was used to such depression.  Yet somehow it always managed to draw fresh blood.

Silver linings are for those who don't see the world through shadow-colored glasses.  Silver linings are for those who can see the edges of the clouds.  Tears... there were plenty of tears to be had.  A torrent of salted rain.  Tears to veil the eyes and the heart.

There are also different kinds of sobbing.  The truly dramatic rend air with wails of grief.  Sometimes drama goes to far, and produces naught but a laughable parody of what might be a manipulation otactic, or maybe just a cry for attention.  The blaring tantrum of a child - often more annoying than anything else.  And, finally, quiet, muffled sobs.  Sorrow magnified through attempted oppression.  There is something singular about that that last type - something immune to manufacture by all but the most skilled of craftsman.

Neine was no craftsman.  She was worthless.

She did, however, have plenty of experience in sobbing and all related fields.

The - quarry? - had landed.

Excellent.

Now if only he had a way to attack it.  Or something.  Stupid useless base skills just had to be somewhat required ...

But then, whatever it was, it wasn't moving.  Black appendages poked through the leaves of a lone oak.  Situated in the dew-stained clearing before him, the bearer of Jess' target was making some kind of odd sound.  Did wingers do that normally?  Moronic slacker wingers.  They were good enough at thievery - of which Jess somewhat approved, under normal circumstances.  When there was only one profitable option availible one must take it, and the man really wasn't that much of a hypocrite.  But to stay in the gutter as they did... morons, the lot of them.  It was obvious that they really just needed to educate themselve and gain access to more useful skills.  Human nature dictated that improved inter-species relations would follow increased power.  You never saw Dwarves shunned and herded into slums...

Under-education would have to be the key, however.  Really a fortunate occurace, in this case, though indicative of their society's general malaise.

Jess Stanton was an ardent supporter of apathy.  It made his job ever so much easier.

Whatever.  There was no way in hell that he could attack it, so...

"Excuse me... would you be willing to part with that for a sum of gold?"

A risky gambit, to be sure.  But than... what else was to be done?  His slacker bodyguards were probably off having some moment of tension-filled romantic garbage by a "scenic" cliff.  Hopefully his horse woudn't bolt -  the big white beast seemed about ready to collapse.  Hmph.  Despite his distinct lack of affection for the mangy thing there really was no other way to get out of the idiotic forest.

The idiot thief was still making those sounds.  Didn't it have the sense to either make a deal or run off?  Honestly... he should have expected as much from someone with the lack of talent in herent in such an indelicate, obvious heist.  This was so utterly lacking in forethought as to be sickening.

"M'useless!" another wail emerged from the leaves.

"Erm... what?"  it - no, now it was she - wasn't looking at him.  The voice was rather muffled, almost as if...

"Are you crying?"

"No!  G'way!"

The moronic slacker was crying!  What utter foolishness...  Fortunately, Jess had had experience with such things.

"Hey, why are you so sad... you beat me, right?" a calming tenor, honeyed with just the right measure of concern.  Scant diversion, but enough to lull her into disregarding his approach.

""Y-you... you don't count!  An' you dont' even have anyin' useful!  I-I'm so pathetic..."

Of all the self-indulgent tripe that the slacker could have wallowed in... this was just lucridious.

Upon closer inspection, the filthy little winger seemed to be naught but a pile of cheap rags.  Several peircings marred her skin, and the general air of poor hygene wafted about the area...

Hazel eyes widened.  She was holding his Book.  His Book. In those grimy, disgusting, no doubt parisite-ridden hands a precious scrap of red was being violated with a horiffic amount of dirt.  Not to mention that fact that she was... crying on it!?!  The Book was getting... wet?

Jess had never climbed a tree in his life.  Even as a child he'd considered it pointless and beneath his dignity.

""Hey, you're not pathetic!  You really gave me a run for it.  Now why don't you let me give you a few potch and just hand back that silly thing.. sentimental value, you understand."

Dignity be damned. Jess would rescue that Book if it killed him.

Pathetic.  Why was she so pathetic. Some tourist on horseback had caught up to her - Neine Chirak, who was supposed to be a big professional thief.  The others would punish her when she got back.. not that she didn't deserve it...

"...sentimental value, you understand."

Nonthreatening.  That was it, the voice registered as startlingly nonthreating. Which was, considering that she had just robbed him, kind of wierd.  Well, not as weird as him trying to come up and sit by her - victims tended to want to avoid her for obvious reasons.  Just... weird.  He didn't even seem armed, or really strong.  Probably some kind of powerful rune-user, to come after a bandit then.

That or she was even more pathetic than she'd thought.

Another sob.

"Hey, you want a hankerchief?"

Blotched red face nodded.  Why was he being so nice?

"Here you go..."

It was a nice hankerchief.  Softer than anything she owned - and cleaner too.  Smelled kind of sterile, but then so did the man.

That was wierd as well.  She'd never met anyone who smelled so... blank?  Like nothing.  Nobody smelled like nothing.  He must own alot of really stange soap.

Weird.  Weird, weird weird.

Musing, the young winger found herself no longer crying.  She also found that he had liberated his book while she clutched at the handkerchief.

Again.  Again with the wailing.  Honestly... wasn't the slacker dehydrated or something by now?

"Really, you're not worthless.  You're making me kind of concerned here... "

Yeah, he was concerned.  Concerned that the moron who had stolen his book would come after him with a rock or something.  It was best to play this sympathetic.

"Hey, you did a great job of stealing!  I know I coouldn't have done that... whenever I rob people I have to sneak around to do it.  Must take alot of strength and skill not to crash."

The skill to run about grabbing random things, that is.  Idiot.

"You.. you're a bandit too?"  now she looked like she was going to start off on some kind of unholy hybrid between sobbing and laughter.  Slacker fool thought that he wasn't good enough to run about being dirty and stealing things of little value for no reason?!

"No, I .. have a desk job.  But you could say that alot of the things I do are similar to banditry... the stealing and illegal activities and such."

"Really?  So... you're kind of a thief, right?"

The girl looked hopeful.  Was that good?  Definately.  Better than major bodily harm, and easily exploited, if somewhat suspect.

".... yeah."

"And you don't think I'm worthless?"  she was pleading.  Ugh.

"Not at all, " he shook her hand, fighting sucessfully against shivering with disgust at her filthly state.  "Jess Stanton.  And you?"

"Neine...." the now-named winger whispered, limply matching the motion of his hand with her own.  "Would... would you mind if I went with you? The others... I've failed.. they'll be so disappointed...."

"What?"

Now that was odd... did she really want to remedy her own inferiority?

The opposing palm's grip turned iron.

"Please?"

"Sure... why not.  I could use someone with you talents.  My companions are involved in some romantic escapade or other.  They're kind of sweet."

Sweet if one considered blind denial and pointless tension to be remotely interesting.

The winger turned, wide-eyed , and even sort-of smiled. Definately up to something.  He knew the look.

And alone in the forest, there was really nothing that he could do.

Jess really, really wanted to get back to the city.  Any city.  Preferably far from this physically stronger and mentally stagnant slacker.

A thief!  He'd smelled funny, but his horse seemed normal enough as she joined him on it.

Besides, if she worked with a great thief the others might respect her more!  She would finally have done something right!
And if he wasn't... she could clean out the bank account which had hired those bodyguards.