"For that briefest moment, neither of us acted. We just stood there, blades clashing, looking with wonder into each others' eyes, until we finally realized that now was time to act. As if universe had aligned, we both attempted to disarm each other at same time, and our weapons were thrown far from where we stood. We both reached for our knives...but I was faster. With my knife pressed to her throat, I commanded her for one last time to yield. She was beaten, there was nothing more she could do, or else risk being killed. With sigh, she yielded. As I released my blade from her neck, her companions moved to try to stop me from taking their leader, but she told them no. Reminded them what would happen to them if they made her go against her word. They backed off, but they were not happy. And they were not content to leave it at that, as I would latter figure out.
"Over next few days, I took her captive on journey back to Ponyville. If journey was hard before, though, it had become much harder. We came across much hazardous wildlife, both plants and animals. We almost died many times, and I was forced to allow her to aid in many fights by giving her back her weapons. She had many chances to kill me, and run off, but...she never did. Over course of our journey, we came to know each other better. We told stories, laughed at jokes. Grew closer to each other. Found feelings for each other. And we learned of each other's pasts, or at least what we were willing or able to share.
"She told me she had been raised by former leader of bandits since she was little filly, captured during raid on caravan near Cloudsdale. Their leader took her in after attack. She saw something in Storm. Perhaps she reminded her of herself when she was younger, perhaps she saw beginnings of skilled warrior in that young filly. Whatever it was, it made them raise her as their own. As she grew up under care of bandits, she had taught her how to fight as she did, how to hunt. How to figure out which targets were lucrative enough to risk attacking, and which were best to avoid. She taught her how to read, how to make potions. she took part in raids on caravans as she grow older. When she was 15, she had her first drink with her. She was closest thing to mother she ever had, and instilled in her sense of longing to be free mare, to choose how to live her life, rest of world be damned, even as rest of world became not so friendly place for such ideas. And she loved her for it, for all of it, not remembering much of her life before she was taken in. When her mentor died, she at 16 was chosen to lead group. And lead she did. They became rich, powerful, feared. But as years went by, she became bored of it all. Her opponents no longer posed challenge to her. She became tired with gold and gems. She wanted challenge, or, failing that, death. Anything to make her feel like she once did. Like she could be or do anything. So, she took greater risks, looking for new challenges from bounty hunters. As more and more feel, she grew to despair that none would be worthy to fight her. And then I came along.
"Few days after she told me this, we arrived at outskirts of Ponyville. It was here, she turned to me, and confessed: if she was going to give up her freedom, she would give it up to somepony she respected, somepony she understood. She did not want to live rest of her life in chains, or be hanged in dishonorable death. She gave me choice. Choice over her precious freedom: turn her in to authorities, or have her become mine, from then into forever. Perhaps it was stupid of me. Perhaps I was naïve, back then. But I could not deny that I had developed feelings for her, and that I had come to care for her. I accepted. And, thankfully, she did not try to betray me, or stab me in back and run off to her freedom, but instead, we embraced. She was happy, even if she no longer had her freedom. She gave me her mentor's hat to give to farmers as proof that I had dealt with problem, and after I had been payed, we went off to begin new life together."