Reluctantly, Sonja returns to her people.

"Fuck!" The redheaded bandit curses with clenched fist. Her desire is to scale the cliff and attempt a rescue of her lord. Yet she knows this is fool-hearty and counter to Sinja's last command. Besides, it is what she would have ordered if roles were reversed.

Sonja's prayer of "by Scáthach, Mitra and Bel, I pray you will be delivered my friend," is offered while breaking into a run as fast as she can manage by the moonlight. The Hyrkanian heads away from the cliff and her lord, towards the secret camp of the Red Fist bandits.

At varying times Sonja suddenly stops and spins around to see if her keen ears and eyes can detect any pursuers. When none appear it seems that they truly only wanted Sinja. Now within a half a mile of her camp the she-bandit looks over her shoulder one final time.

"Crom!" Sonja gasps at the sight of a still ghost like figure but five feet behind her.

Stumbling to the ground by the shock and her forward momentum the redhead deftly recovers into a front roll and spins to face the phantom while drawing her short sword and off-hand dagger.

"What demon are you!" The she-bandit threatens.

"I am no demon." The figure answers with a matronly voice. Sonja quickly sees this is no apparition, but a tall woman wearing an elegant white hooded cloak with gold trim that shimmers in the moon light. Crimson hair flows from her hood which partially covers her face.

"By Scáthach, then who the hell are you!" Sonja demands as she readies her throwing dagger.

"Hmm." A grin can be seen on the stranger's face. "You speak right, young one."

"So you are from hell . . ." The she-bandit speaks from fear and anger before her sharp mind quickly realizes her mistake. "No." She gasps in awe as she unconsciously lowers her weapons. "You can't be!"

The figure lowers her hood revealing a beautiful yet regal woman that has old eyes yet fair skin. "I am Scáthach, protector of women who wield a blade and follow their own path in this world of man." The goddess waves her hands and Sonja's weapons increase in weight by ten fold, forcing the she-bandit to let them fall to the ground.

"The fates are upon you this night, Sonja of Hyrkania." Scáthach proclaims. "You are offered a choice that could shake the world. You may return to your people live your life out in the woods. Or, you may heed my calling and travel a far more dangerous, yet adventurous, path."