"Scrunch!" Roald stopped and held his breath. Quiet was his greatest ally; the sound created by depressing the snow had possibly defeated that silence. One minute went by and nothing seemed to be out of order, but Roald knew better. He waited ten minutes or more, he was sure of the time, concentrating on his breathing and remaining statuesque.
Then, after he was assured that he hadn’t given away his position, he resumed his course. Step once, shift weight, move the left foot, keep balance. Everything was an exercise in perfection. The whole time he kept his eyes focused on the second story window that was his objective.
The night was dark, with a moon obscured by winter storm clouds. The ground was covered with trodden and used snow, not fresh, but the kind that reminds one of days of misuse of nature by people more concerned about commerce than beauty. Roald knew that his Elven heritage was sneaking through his consciousness with these thoughts of disdain for those who felt less for the earth than did he.
Reaching the wall below the window, Roald looked up. A five-minute walk had taken the stealthy young elf the better part of three-fourths an hour. He sank back against the wall into the shadow as a group of people came by. They were unaware that the elf was less than ten feet from them as they passed by. The black cloak pulled up to cover his iridescent face, he blended with the dark remarkably well.
Roald fastened a set of bearclaws to his hands and began his ascent of the wall. Again with painful precision and careful silence, the elf made his way to the window. Peering in, he saw his target. A single man sitting at a desk. Roald slid the blade of his dagger under the window.
The dagger had been a present to him upon acceptance into training by Jur’is. Everyone in the secret order received the dagger of EverWind. It was nearly a work of art. A polished steel blade, curved and serrated. The handle was steel encased by brass in the shape of a serpent’s head. The jewel of the eye was black onyx and seemed to glow in the dark night.
The time for silence and stealth at an end Roald relied on every bit of his training for the next maneuver. Finding a grip under the seal, broken by the dagger, he flung the window up quickly. The man at the desk rose but not before a dagger hit him in the back of the neck, and then another into his side. Roald hung at the sill waiting for the results.
Jur’is turned and smiled at the apprentice with two wooden knives on the floor beside him, both having found marks. "Bravo, young Roald!" He walked to the window and helped the elf in. "You have graduated to the second year of training. Your first test is passed."
