Athmae sat strait up on her sleeping mat and pulled her knife from under her pillow. Nothing was there other than the darkness mingled with firelight. She sheathed the knife in her black leather boot and lad back down on her mat with one arm covering her eyes. Everything was silent expect for the crackling of the fire. A sandy voice spoke out to her, "Bad dreams?"
Athmae turned her head towards the person who had spoke to her. She replied, "I thought I told you that I don't dream."
Another voice spoke out, "Yeah right, everyone dreams." Athmae sat up quickly, crossed her legs, and glared at the street rat called Jo. Jo glared back at her before she finally broke the silence. "You act so tuff but I bet you're just as soft as any other person." Athmae rolled her eyes and said, "Tell me Achmed, when do we get rid of the arrogant brat?" Jo snorted, "Don't worry I'll be gone soon enough." "Joy, may I ask where you'll go, just in case I find something of mine missing and want to chop of your ruddy head?" "Good luck with that. I'm going to join the Forlorn Thieves." "You wouldn't last one day." "How would you know?" Athmae stud up and swiftly walked over to Jo so she was staring her right in the face. She pulled up her right sleeve so only her and Jo could see what was burned into her wrist. It was a circle with the letters "F" and "T" in it. Then in a language that few could understand, Athmae started to speak to Jo quietly and yet harsh. Jo kept staring at Athmae, trying to hold in her fright. Athmae stood back up still keeping gaze with Jo, and then slowly walked away into the darkness. Jo shook her head as if shaking off a bad feeling and lad back down.