Whispered rumours… a brief glimpse of eyes in darkness… all the news Cadvan could gather of Maerad in response to Hem's desperate pleas. He had searched through Annar, north to south, but no sign remained but the bodies of three woodcutters found dead at their campsite in the midst of the woods of Pellinor, surrounded by paw prints. The only proof he had that their deaths had been anything more than a common wolf attack was the remains of a shattered reed pipe lying abandoned on the forest floor. And, of course, the eyes. He had seen them only once since Pellinor, gleaming in the depths of the Landrost's wood, dark blue and filled with nameless power. The next day, he had woken to the news that Gilman's Cot had burned in the midnight hours. None had survived but the dogs and cattle, which had strayed into the woods and disappeared for good. Cadvan returned to Innail with a sinking heart. What could he say to Hem, who had refused to believe his sister would do anything but good? How bitterly he now regretted every time he had argued with her, every time they had quarrelled. Her faults seemed like small things now she was gone.