Authoress note: Shocked to see how many Dustfinger lovers are out there, scares me to see that I have to share him. I know, most of you wanted him again, but I simply had to write about our two escaped "villains" this time, so I finally got all the characters. It was quite scary to see how easy I can slip into Bastas personality. Let the cruelity begin!

The old hag, was really getting on his nerves. Something was seriously wrong with her, because even when her son had treated her like dirt all her life, she still kept talking about him, like he had been the most loving child in the world.

It was even worse when she sobbed pathetically, well, at least she had only done that twice so far. But Basta had not liked it, it had made him feel nervous and even helpless. He should have slit her throat then.

Why she kept running after him, he never knew. Probably because he was a sucessful hunter and provided her with food. Still, she could have gone to simply knock somewhere, surely those naïve people would want to help and old, lonely hag.

When he showed up on someones doorstep, the inhabitants usually critically looked him down and said they had nothing, before closing the door. That is, if they did not start screaming and shouting at the sight of his bloody knife.

Who needed them anyway? He preferred to have no company, but the old hag still followed him into nowhere. Damned hard to get rid of her.

After he had managed to kill a young deer and they roasted it on a fire she had told him "Well done, son". And he should have felt angry, he was noones "son" after all, what right did the old wench have to call him this? But instead it had filled him with some sense of longing. It had made him weak. Of course she had shut up as soon as his knife was next to her neck. She had not called him "son" once more, since then. And he even missed it.

Basta had never known his real family, Capricorn had taken him in, when he was still a very young boy and he had trained him to be what he had become. And he had been grateful to his master, who had taught him how to survive. Even if it meant slavery.

Every being holds a passion, a sort of weakness, and his had been women. He had discovered his lust for them at a very young age and the sight of the pretty maids Capricorn kept, had always roused something in him. It had been easy to get most of them as well, although he had noticed the way they looked at him. He knew that he was young and handsome and held quite a position as Capricorns right hand man. Still they did not enjoy him, looked to to floor when he took them, screamed in pain and not in lust, some even sobbed. Pathetic and still he wondered why.

The maids seemed to like the damned Dustfinger much more, they talked to him and laughed at his stupid fire tricks. That was something that puzzled him, after all, he was much better-looking and younger, more muscular and still they detested his touch.

Then a new maid was brought in, she was just on the step to becoming a woman and her youth made her even prettier. He did not remember her name, only that it hat an "A" at the beginning, but he could still picture her body. Basta wanted her and Dusfinger told him to "keep his dirty fingers off her". But metal had proven to be quicker than fire this time and Basta still smiled when he thought about the dear souvenir he had given that self-called protector of innocence. He had carved himself as a memory into the other mans face.

This Resa had just been one of many maids, although even if mute (which was something good and handy in his opinion), very pretty, but unfortunately also not as stupid as women ought to be.

Every being has a fear, something that scares the wits out of them and that ridicules them into small quivering children. Fear is even more of a weakness than a passion is.

Never would Basta forget the old gypsy woman, who had cursed him, after he had taken her jewellry was well as her granddaughter. The old wrinkled mouth that spoke those unforgettable words "One hundred omens of death will you seen, signs of bad luck in every form and when those hundred have passed you will meet your fatal end." Those words had haunted him since then. They were his constant and detested companion.

Black cats crossing from the left, breaking mirrors, the number thirteen, spilled salt – each and every one a sign of his oncoming death. His fear made him even more aware of them, until he saw omens in every sight he met. And he feared them and he counted, he tried to avoid them, but bad luck kept following him.

Basta feared his own death, as much as he did not care about that of others. And his countings haunted him, because he had encountered 96 omens of death so far. Only four more. The mantra that unforgiveable kept repeating itself in his head.

Those who knew had gladly used it against him, like Dustfinger who had enjoyed taunting him with his weakness. And Basta did not like being made fun of. He had proven his point later. It was his own personal fear and noone should dare presenting it to him as his weakness and ridicule.

Once the old hag had tried to boss him around, snapping at him as if he were one of her obedient maids. But his beautiful knife, his most precious and only posession, in front of her wrinkled face had indeed done well as a warning. She had been much politer to him after that and he was certain of her respect.

Of course he wished that she were a pretty young thing instead of Capricorns mother, but wishes just were no horses. At least she was no distraction in that form.

And so they journeyed on into the nothingness. The old hag depending on his skills as a hunter and survivor. Basta found he liked the completely new feeling of being needed.