Meanwhile, as the trio trained in Oxglen, a storm arrived at the edge of their territory.
Subject #009's transport set down silently in a dense thicket several miles from Oakhaven. She stepped out, the two masked operatives following like shadows. She surveyed the peaceful, sun-dappled forest with her golden, emotionless eyes. Direct confrontation was not the initial objective. Intelligence was.
"Remain here. Monitor communications. Do not engage," she ordered the operatives. Their nods were barely perceptible.
From a small pack, she withdrew simple, coarse-spun village clothing—a dull brown tunic and trousers, worn boots. She changed quickly, then used a subtle, sustained breeze to ruffle her striking crimson hair with dust and leaves, dulling its color. With a final, focused effort of will, she dimmed the unnatural glow in her golden eyes to a mere amber tint. She became unremarkable. A tired traveler. A displaced villager from another hamlet.
