Santiago crouched low amongst the bushes, watching. The camp was packing up, and the man with the ring was bellowing orders, telling the others to hurry up, insulting their mothers, making unsavoury insinuations about their fathers. A charming fellow, all things considered. Santiago sniffed. It wasn't the insults he minded per se, it was just the obvious lack of finesse. Any man with a mouth could bellow old cliches like they were going out of style, insults were an art. He retreated a little way, straightening up as soon as he was able, and made his way back to Blue. He unclipped his crossbow from her saddle and removed her bridle, securing the reins, wiping the bit, and storing the whole thing in his bag.
"Go on, sweetheart," he told her, patting her neck, "I'll see you at home."

"What are we going for today?" a low voice asked from the trees. Caesar's amber eyes stared down at him from the branches of a nearby tree. The binturong curled his tail around the branch he was standing on and lowered himself onto the one below.

"A vision of blonde-haired blue-eyed innocence," Santiago replied with a grin. On cue, his hair began to shift colour, the collar-length strands retreating back into his head. His dark eyes changed slowly, transitioning from brown, to green, and finally to a startling grey-blue.

"There," he told Caesar with a nod, "not as good as the original, of course, but it'll do."

Caesar's lip peeled back on the left-side of his muzzle, revealing his small sharp teeth. He really did look like a strange shadow-tree demon when he did that.

"I'll start," Santiago told him, "but then you've got to play damsel in distress, alright?"

The binturong sighed wearily but nodded. "Very well."

"Help!" Santiago bellowed, his voice echoing through the trees, "someone help! My daughter!"

He ran, weaving his way back into the undergrowth and circling away from the camp. Sure enough, the guards came running, shouting to one another, calling out into the trees. They started their search.

Approaching the camp from the north, Santiago found the perfect spot. A small group of soldier has stayed behind to protect their master, three young, one old with a bristling moustache. Santiago slipped a bolt into his crossbow and raised it, lining up the shot. His index finger curled around the trigger, and a moment later the nearest guard fell down dead. A shout went up from the others, the older man ordering them into a circle.

"Over here!" he heard Caesar shout through the trees, "Help me, oh please hurry!"

Santiago retreated again, weaving his way back through the shrubbery. When he had found a new spot, he slotted another bolt into place and squeezed the trigger. His arrow found its mark, thudding into the old man's shoulder. He fell to his knees with a cry. The youngest exchanged terrified looks, calling out to their fellows searching the forest.

"She's dying!" Caesar called, his voice cracking, "oh Aura, no!"

The man with the ring seemed the most terrified of all. He'd drawn his sword, but he looked in no fit state to use it. Santiago leaned his bow up against the nearest tree and drew his own blade. He stepped out from his hiding place and advanced. The young guards were easily felled. Santiago kept his eyes fixed on his target, certain he would try to flee. He was not disappointed. Leaving the guards on the ground where they had fallen, unable to move but very much alive, Santiago followed after his quarry.

In his panic the man staggered, stumbled and fell. His pampered life had made him soft. He tried to scramble back to his feet but Santiago was too quick for him. He kicked him back to the ground with a well-placed boot, rolled him over onto his back with the flat of his foot and held the point of his sword to his throat.

"The ring, if you please," Santiago purred, nodding down at the man's hand. Wide eyes stared back at him, the thin-lipped mouth fell agape. He remained frozen for a while, stunned, terrified, and then started to open and close again like a freshly landed trout. "I will only ask politely once, my lord," Santiago pressed, feigning an accent far removed from his own. The man's expression shifting, terror giving way to outrage. Santiago tipped his head to one side, his own expression mocking.

"The king will hear about this," the man spat, sucking on his finger so he could slip off the ring. He threw it at Santiago with all the disgust he could muster amongst the soil, mud and leaf litter. Santi caught it, held the stone up to the sunlight to admire the glimmer, and then slipped it into his coat pocket with a grin.

"That'd be a laugh," he said with a shrug. "Now, I suggest you start walking." Santiago glanced down at his compass, and then pointed off through the trees. "That way. If you keep going in a straight line you'll see the castle by nightfall."

---

"Oh pleeeeaseeee," Caesar implored, lowering himself from the trees onto Santiago's shoulder, "help meeeee..." He chuckled to himself, the sound hissing between his teeth.

"We'll make a mummer of you yet," Santiago told him, reaching up to stroke his familiar's chest, "You did good."

"I know," Caesar replied, wrapping his tail around Santi's upper arm, "I'm a marvel."

"That's one word for it."

Santiago's features began to shift back to normal, blonde became black, blue became brown. He collected his crossbow from its place by the tree, threw it over his free shoulder, and set off through the forest. He could still hear some of the guards fighting their way through the undergrowth, calling out to one another in deep voices.

They were far enough away to be of little concern.

Suddenly he felt Caesar's tail tighten around his arm.

"Woman," the binturong explained, his whole body stiffening, "about a hundred paces, your one o clock."

"Armed?" Santiago asked, as Caesar stepped off his shoulder back into the trees.

"Yes," his familiar's voice confirmed through their telepathic link, "something metal...and I think...yes...gunpowder."

Interesting.

Santiago swung his bag around from his back to his front and rummaged inside. He pulled out his flintlock pistol, and pushed it through his belt. He'd bought it from Murray for a small fortune years ago, and whilst he preferred his bows, they were more accurate, quicker to load, he prided himself on being a proficient shot. He swung his bag back into place, and clipped his crossbow to the leather belt running diagonally across his body. He wasn't going to be winning any sprinting competitions in the next few minutes.

Resting the barrel of his gun against the wrist of his free hand, Santiago stepped out of the undergrowth into the glare of the daylight flowing in through the canopy above them.

"You might try pointing that somewhere else," he smiled, locking eyes with the unusual young woman waiting for him in the glare. "I'm not looking to get shot. I'm just looking for my horse." He watched her closely taking in the holster, her confident stance, her steady hand, every inch of her screaming professionalism and military efficiency. Santiago perked an eyebrow.

"How about, we both lower our weapons on the count of three, yeah?"

Santiago*