The Crow Hunter

Jessica's neurons came through and she recalled a scrap of conversation overheard, apparently some other foreigner had gained the moniker of 'Hunter of Hunter'. A woman who killed turned hunters before any true harm came from their falling to the bad blood. A women spoken of as if myth. Her twin daggers even matched the description and her beak an apparent crow mask.

"Leave the hunting of hunters to me." The crow hunter chimed, almost approvingly, chuckling to herself amicably, as it were an everyday thing. "Come along now, if you've still got fire in you. I'll walk you home young hunter. I have no time for the already broke."

Jessica stood, torch in hand. And with little option for else, she hurried to catch up with the strange hunter. So close now she could see she looked less beast. A feather cloak, a leather-stitched beak, from which reeked of herb, and straight forward uniform underneath. It took some force of will to speak with the hunter, but Jessica told her her address. The Crow told her that she knew where that was, and they were close if she was feeling limber enough for a shortcut. Just at the question, Jessica felt the end of her adrenaline, and instead felt the distinct fatigue the night had brought onto her. She hadn't felt this fatigued since she worked 20 days straight.