The hunter was standing above me. What he was waiting for, I didn't know. It didn't matter. I was defeated and I understood that. I looked up and felt the new fall of fresh snow falling on my face. I didn't feel cold anymore, warm and comfortable as if I was sitting beside a large fire. I closed my eyes.

"Where did you find this weapon, murderer? Thief?" I heard the hunter hiss into my ear.

I opened my eyes slowly, looking into his grey eyes. I was calm, demure. The hunter had leaned down and was holding my head back, his fingers tangled in my hair. He held my own dagger against my throat threateningly, but death meant nothing to me.

"I've always had it, hunter." I said to him, honestly.

"Liar." He insisted, "You are not allowed such a weapon."

I paused, blinking, then as I swallowed. Something triggered in my mind suddenly, "It was a gift."

The hunter scoffed pushing it further, "A gift. Such lies. You are not worth such a weapon."

I winced, "Read it, hunter. Read the inscription. It is your people's writing, isn't it?"

As if I was in any position to do anything else, the hunter gave me one suspicious glare before letting my head go and using that hand to wipe away extra snow off the blade. I watched his face as it slowly changed from scepticism to disturbance. He seemed to have read the writing over and over again before looking back at me in disbelief.

I said nothing. What could I say? I knew it was a gift, but I didn't know from whom or where. I just knew it was mine. The hunter made a low growl in his throat and stood up and hands in fists. I stayed where I was, sitting quietly, watching the hunter,...