Chapter 7:

Finding an inexpensive but secure inn, the group bedded down their mounts and rented several rooms before heading into the town proper. Hawk disappeared quickly, murmuring something about covering all his bases and promising to meet the others back at the inn for the evening meal.

Moving toward the seedier side of town – all two streets of it – Hawk kept a sharp look out for any person that was behaving out of the ordinary. There, sitting on a stoop, was an older man with wild, scraggly salt and pepper hair and a matching beard. His clothes were in a state of disrepair that, to an experienced eye, looked a bit too clean to have been slept in. The tin being slowly shaken in his right hand was a touch too bright and a tad too battered for it to have occurred naturally. An unruly braid fell behind his left ear, tied off with a ratty piece of red string nearly hidden among the rest of his hair. Hawk strolled over, nodding amiably at the few citizens on the street. Dropping a few coins into the tin, Hawk briefly twisted his fingers in the sigil a thief would use when visiting another city and asking permission for a meet.

Muddy brown eyes took the Elf's measure before stubby fingers with split and blackened nails formed the appropriate countersign. "Moving in?" came the raspy question.

Hawk shook his head. "Passing through. Checking in."

"Mentz' Pub. Ask for Lito."

"'Preciate."

"No mention." The beggar gave a gap-toothed grin, pocketing the coins.

Hawk moved down the street, paying no more mind to the beggar.

Heading toward the center of town, Simond broke off from the others at the Church. "I'll meet you at the armoury after I'm finished, or back at the Inn if it takes longer than expected."

The Paladin entered the small church, breathing deeply the scent of sandalwood and incense. He knelt and crossed himself before the main altar, then moved off to the right where a small prayer alcove was situated. Using a taper, he lit a candle, then knelt in silent prayer for the lives he had taken as well as for the lives that were now under his protection.

He had been there for over a candlemark before the priest on duty approached him.

"My son, you have traveled far?"

"Yes, Father, and I have much farther to go. I wish to grant my tithe and ask of any news you may have heard along my projected path."

"Come, my son, and we shall discuss this in my office." He escorted the Paladin back to his office.

8

Heron and Jaxon headed toward the weaponsmith; replacement and auxiliary weapons foremost on their minds. The two made a formable-looking pair. The Barbarian walked with a long-legged, mile-eating stride that set his braids swinging and his battle ax thumping lightly along his shoulders. Powerful arms swung easily by his side. The smile in his eyes belied the stern expression on his face. The Ranger, though shorter than Heron by several inches, looked no less dangerous. A sure-footed stride carried him smoothly across the paved pathway, limbs moving easily. Sharp eyes took in his surroundings and ears cocked to catalogue each unfamiliar sound.

Heron took note, with some pleasure, the appreciative looks and glances they were garnering from the ladies they passed. Perhaps the evening wouldn't be spent alone that night.

8

Myla pulled Rianna and Balen into the heart of the marketplace, intent on locating appropriate supplies for their journey. The street was lined with stalls of various sizes. Carts were wheeled up and down the street. Storekeepers kept up a string of praises for their particular goods. "Onions. Get your sweet onions, here!"

"The finest bread this side of Cadecas. Piping hot!"

"Fresh beef. Corn-fed cattle from the foothills of Fangmore Mountains. Nothing better!"

"Herbs for sale. Garlic, parsley, rosemary, thyme. I've got herbs for cooking and Healing. Hand gathered and recently cut, or dried to your preference. Get your herbs here!"

"Let's check that stall." Myla angled past a clothier and a glass blower's stall to reach a medium sized stall with a green awning, filled with the scent of herbs.

"Greetings, Gentlebeings. Welcome to my humble shop. My name is Varian. How may I be of service to you this day?" The tall, burly human grinned sunnily at them through his thick red beard. The sun glinted off his bald pate and silver belt buckle that had been shaped in the symbol of the Holy leaf, a sign that meant that if not a Druid, then he had been formally trained in the art of Herbalism.

"I'm looking to resupply my kit. Do you carry Willow bark, Echinacea, Feverfew, Chamomile…" She looked at Balen.

"Fenugreek, Thyme, Marigold and Lavender."

Bushy brows rose to meet his hairline, no mean feat. "It's nice to work with someone who knows what they want. How much to you require?"

Myla flashed a winsome grin. "Depends on the quality."

"Well put. Allow me to show you my wares."

Balen took a half-step back to allow Myla better access to the counter. He rocked on his heels, eyes continuously scanning the aisle they were in. Rianna laid a hand on Balen's arm, gaining his attention. "Everything alright?"

He nodded, smiling shyly at her. "Just nervous. It's been a long time since I've been in a city." He continued to rock slightly, his eyes flashing yellow-gold.

"Really? How long?"

Balen shrugged, eyes roving across the street, taking in the different people moving easily between the shops. "At least twenty years, but I'm not quite sure."

"Twenty years?"

Again Balen shrugged. "It's easy to lose track of time when you live alone in the forest. Jaxon tried to get me to go to town a few times, but I just never felt comfortable."

"If you start to feel overwhelmed, let us know. We can cut this trip short."

Balen smiled, his rocking ceasing. "Thank you." He was soon pulled into a discussion on the varying potency between fresh and dried herbs.

Rianna, a bit bored by the trade, moved down two stalls to bargain for hopefully edible hardtack and dried beef. "Fourteen loaves of hardtack and fourteen pounds of jerky."

The shopkeeper blinked, then her eyes narrowed speculatively. "Eighteen silver. Three for the hardtack and fifteen for the beef."

Rianna shook her head, a gleam in her eye. "For bread and beef? Funny, I didn't see the Cooking Guild's best recommendation sign upon your wall. One silver, thirty copper."

The shopkeeper put a hand on her chest, stumbling up against the countertop as if suffering from a heartattack. "Milady. You wound me. Twelve silver. I have children to raise."

"I have no tie to your children, raise them on someone else's money. I am not made of money that I can throw it to whoever asks. I could purchase the bare ingredients to make them myself for less than half that price. However, I have no talent for cooking, so … two silver, thirty copper."

"Are you tying to ruin me? I have a business to run. Never have I been so insulted. Eight silver and fifty copper."

Rianna tapped one of the loaves with her finger, wincing dramatically at the sound. "I know it's called hardtack, but this is ridiculous. I'm traveling; I don't have a week to soak this until it's edible. Three silver, eighty copper."

The corner of the shopkeeper's mouth twitched. "You drive a hard bargain, milady. Six silver for the lot. That's my final offer."

Rianna paused a moment, then nodded. "Agreed. Six silver it is."

The woman broke into a wide smile. "Bater," sealing the bargain.

Reaching for her purse, the mage felt a tug at her waist just as a startled yelp sounded in her ear. Turning in surprise, she saw a small, thin man standing beside her. Grass, stems, vines, and weeds were wrapped around his feet and lower legs, literally rooting him to the spot. With one hand, the man hacked at the offensive greener with a knife. In the other was a familiar looking purse.

"Thief!"

He looked up, startled fear in his eyes. "What the devil you talkin' about, lady? I ain't no thief." He paused briefly in his struggles to clutch tighter at the leather purse.

"Return my pouch, sirrah, or you'll wish you'd stayed in bed, today."

"Yer gonzo lady. Thisn's mine. Gonna buy me some beef, I was."

"Not with my coin, you're not. Return it immediately." Blue eyes sparkled with anger.

A crowd began to gather. Along one side, arms full of her purchases, Myla glanced at the vines then shot a look at Balen. Balen gazed impassively back, but the Cleric thought she saw a hint of mischief in his eyes. The man hacked again at the weeds, emitting a squawk as a vine snaked up his arm, pinning his knife hand to his side. "Let me go, witch!"

Rianna snorted. "You should do your research better before you rob someone. I'm no witch. An Entangle spell is not something I can do."

A woman wearing the silver and gray of the King's militia pushed her way through the crowd. "Stand aside. Stand aside. Official business." Seeing the irate lady, who, though dressed in travel-worn gear, still exuded the aura of Nobility, the officer unconsciously straightened her tunic and stance. "What seems to be the trouble?"

"This … this … miscreant attempted to abscond with my purse. I want him arrested immediately."

The officer turned to the thief and gaped a moment. It wasn't everyday she was asked to arrest someone already trussed up. "Pendaron. You've been warned once before. What do you have to say for yourself?"

Pendaron tried for an innocent smile. "Officer Wellion. I don't know what all the fuss is. I was merely trying to purchase some beef jerky from this fine establishment when I found me feet tangled up and the lady here callin' me a thief. Really, what is the world coming to?"

"Fine," said Rianna, a glint in her eye. "If it's yours, open it. Or tell us the contents."

Nervously looking around at the crowd as well as his mark and the officer, Pendaron licked his lip and tried to bluff. "I was in a hurry. I couldn't possibly remember what I threw in it."

"Is there anything in there that is obviously unique, my Lady?" Officer Wellion asked.

"My Mage sigil and a silver ring set with a tiger-eye." A hard smile appeared upon her lips. "But he won't be able to open it. I spelled it earlier this morning."

The officer's brows bobbed, but she made no comment. "Pendaron. Open the pouch."

"That'll be a bit difficult. Two hands are needed for that. Sorry."

The vine unwrapped his arm and hand, but stayed fast against the knife, trapping it in place. The thief frowned, then attempted to open the pouch. Tugging and pulling had no effect and with a defeated sigh, he dropped the pouch into Wellian's waiting palm.

"My Lady, your turn."

Rianna leaned forward and whispered something at the pouch. The strings loosened, pretty as you please. Wellion peered in and saw the sigil and ring. She fixed the thief with a steely glare. She returned the pouch to its owner, apologizing profusely. "I'm terribly sorry for any inconvenience, my Lady. I assure you, he will be dealt with appropriately."

"Thank you for your concern."

Wellion secured Pendaron's hands behind his back and confiscated the knife. She looked at the vines. "Um … if you could?"

The foliage loosened abruptly and the officer marched the thief away.

As the crowd dispersed, Rianna paid for her purchases. Myla and Balen helped carry the packages and by mutual consent decided to return to the Inn.

"Thank you, Balen."

"You're welcome."

8

Joryn stepped into the blacksmith shop, his eyes automatically categorizing and evaluating the display pieces at the front of the building, as well as the pieces in progress beside the anvil. He'd learned long ago that the best way to judge a craftsman was to see if he took just as much care with the underlying layers of a piece as he did with the outer finished product. He nodded to himself, pleased at the obvious care that the metal had gone through.

At the bellows, naked to the waist, was a short, burly human. His build spoke of Dwarven blood somewhere along the family tree. The Blacksmith pulled a piece of iron out of the coals with a set of tongs. Setting it on the anvil, he picked up a hammer and pounded upon the metal, striking the anvil every other stroke to dissipate the heat, his strokes measured and carefully placed. He thrust the iron into a barrel of water at his side, a billow of steam obscuring his face. He examined his progress and replaced the iron back into the coals, heating the metal for another go at the anvil.

Spotting Joryn, he gestured for a young man in a leather apron to take over the bellows. He spoke shortly with his apprentice before moving forward himself to meet with the Dwarf. "Sir, how may I help you?"

He grasped the Blacksmith's forearm in greeting. "I'm in need of a traveling anvil. The one I have is too cumbersome for the journey I have ahead of me."

"I have three travel sizes available." He drew Joryn off to one side, waving a hand at the equipment along the wall. "A standard which is fifty pounds. A thirty pounder and a fifteen pound version."

"I already have a fifty pound one. How much for a thirty?"

"Fifty gold."

"Would you be willing to purchase my anvil? Perhaps trade it for a smaller version?"

The Blacksmith scratched his chin. "Depends on the amount of wear it shows. Tell you what, you can trade in your anvil and I'll sell the thirty pound one to you for only twenty-five gold."

"Throw in a handful of starting iron?"

"Deal." The two shook on it.

8

'Mentz' Pub' was scorch-engraved on a small plaque nailed beside the plain wood door. Hawk rapped lightly and a window within the portal slid open. Two dark eyes peered out. "Yesss?" the sibilant hiss barely made itself heard over the rattling of carts upon the cobblestones.

"Request. Lito?" A twist of the fingers on one hand gained the Elven Thief entrance.

"Second table. Don't order." Hawk slid through the entrance without acknowledging the doorman and moved toward the spot indicated. Reclining in the seat, one leg casually thrown over an arm, he was the very picture of unconcerned indolence. Producing a stiletto from the folds of his cloak, he began cleaning his nails, all the while silently casing the room for possible exits, problem spots, and possible marks for when his business was concluded. He waved off the waitress, content to let the local Guild Master initiate this meeting on his own terms.

A quarter of a candlemark passed. Hawk had replaced the dagger with a coin, dancing it across his knuckles, his eyes ceaselessly flickering over the bar and its patrons and employees. He smiled to himself. Again the waitress approached. "May I get ya anthin'?" Grey eyes, pale skin and dark hair that fell in a curtain to the middle of the back gave her the appearance of a small living shadow. His smile widened.

"Safe passage."

"Excuse me?" A frown crossed the girl's face and she shot him a puzzled look.

"I require safe passage for myself and my friends." He made eye contact. "Lito."

She stared at him a moment, expression still locked into one of puzzlement. When he didn't drop his gaze, or stammer an apology, a flicker of a smile twitched her lips and she gracefully slid into the seat opposite him, sliding her try beneath the table. "How'd you guess?"

"It's a nice pub." He waved a hand, encompassing the entire establishment. "But not even the nicest pub can keep the patrons so well behaved toward a good-looking serving wench. A few of your men were a touch too solicitous. No pawing, no leers, and no tipping."

"Something we'll have to work on, I see." She stared at him, head canted to one side, eyes half-lidded. "What's this about safe passage? I don't ken ye from a hole in th' ground. Why should you and yers be untouchables?"

With a seated half-bow more formal than any seen in the most fashionable courts, Hawk introduced himself. "Hawk. Cadecas Enclave. Winter member." He presented his Guild-token, a thin piece of wood with a stylized snowflake inlaid in silver.

She examined it, then leaned back in her seat, eyeing him. "You could have stolen that."

"Automatically makes me a member, then, doesn't it," was the calm reply.

"Vines." A cryptic statement.

A smile played about his lips. "Nature's staircase."

Lito relaxed, satisfied at the answer. "Any plans?"

"Passing through. No time to play."

Her gaze drifted along his form, a coy smile slowly forming. "None?"

"Perhaps," was the purred response.

888

"Daryl!" Simon's shocked voice cut through the story, causing several to jump in their seats.

"Yesss?" The young man blinked innocently up at his father, a devilish look in his eyes. "Relax, dad. It's just a game. Remember?"

Simon muttered to himself, but nodded nodded none-the-less.

888

Joryn raised a hand in greeting as Balen, Myla and Rianna entered the common room of Mockingbird Inn. "Over here."

The three ordered drinks, visibly relaxing as they sat, their parcels up in their quarters. "We've procured enough rations to last us at least a week. Longer if we add to the stores through some hunting or fishing." Myla took a long draft of her ale, her eyes flickering to the door as Hawk entered the establishment.

The Elf gave the three a measuring glance, then grinned. "The Guild Master sends his apologies. Such an incident should not have occurred. You're all under Guild protection as long as I behave myself. He also thanks you for not killing Pendaron. Though not a very great thief, he comes in handy at times."

"So, we won't be bothered anymore?" Myla looked for confirmation.

"Right. Well, at least from those thieves who are members. They know better than to mess with the Guild Master. The rest of them are still amateurs. Your 'display' today will most likely keep all but the truly desperate and foolhardy away."

"Well, that's a relief, I suppose."

"What's a relief?" Heron and Jaxon pulled up chairs, nodding their thanks as the waitress placed two ales before them.

"Hawks arranged a bit of safe passage for us with the Guild," Rianna explained.

"That's good." Jaxon looked around the room. "Anyone seen Simond?"

"Still at the church for all I know," Joryn remarked. "But he said he'd meet us for dinner. So he should be here shortly."

"I say we order. No need to starve while we wait." The Barbarian waved the waitress over, ordering for Simond as well.

The Paladin entered as the food was delivered. The friends dug into their meals. "The main trade route has been blessedly free of raiders of late. We can follow it for two days before heading west towards the section of mountains indicated on the map," Simond related. "The priest was unable to give any news of conditions further than that. Hopefully we'll encounter someone who can tell us how the land lies as we get closer."

"Provisions are taken care of. I'll have a new anvil and set of irons by tomorrow." Joryn quaffed his ale, signaling for another.

"The weaponsmith said he'd have our gear repaired in two days hence," Jaxon added. "Myla, you Rianna and Balen might wish to drop by there tomorrow. I saw a set of knives and short swords which may be to your liking."

By mutual agreement, the group retired early that evening. The two ladies shared a room; with Hawk, Heron, and Simond in a room to the right, and Joryn, Jaxon, and Balen on the left.

8

Sometime that night, Joryn was aware of a muffled conversation between his two roommates. Partly awake, he heard the shutters to the windows open then close. When no other disturbances made themselves known, the Dwarf fell into a dreamless slumber.

Joryn rose before the sun, intent on getting breakfast out of the way in order to get to the Blacksmiths early. Jaxon opened one eye, established the Dwarf was no threat, and drifted back into sleep. The third pallet looked as if no one had slept in it and no sign of the Druid could be found.

Heading toward the stall to check on the horses, he heard the clash of steel up ahead. Cautiously, hand upon the hilt of his dagger, Joryn moved to investigate. He relaxed considerably when he saw Hawk and Balen sparring with one another in the cleared area behind the building. Joryn leaned against the wall, listening and watching the practice session.

Hawk lunged forward forcing Balen to dodge backward out of reach. "Have you had much practice?" The Thief took another step and attacked again.

Balen parried the low thrust, ducking under a backhand blow. "No. I can't seem to master Jaxon's style and I had no inclination to look for another teacher. Not when I could use the forest to help me." As if to accentuate the point, a tree root reached out to trip Hawk.

The Elf turned his stumble into a forward roll that took him out of his opponent's range. Turning, two quick steps reengaged him with the Druid. The two were evenly matched. Although smaller, Balen appeared quicker than Hawk. However, Hawk could use his longer reach to keep the Druid from closing on him and his experience with the shortsword was apparent.

"Magic is fickle," the Thief explained. "You should never depend solely upon it for it will inevitably let you down." A deft twist of his blade along the length of steel had Balen's sword fly out of his hands. He leveled his sword at the Half-Elf.

In a surprisingly swift move, Balen dived at Hawk's feet, bringing the Thief down. Hawk stilled as he felt cold metal upon his neck. Balen grinned, the expression looking more feral than reassuring. "I don't. But thank you for the advice." He pulled back and offered his hand to Hawk.

The Elf's lips twisted in an annoyed mock-pout. "You'll never make a decent swordsman if you keep losing your sword." He accepted the hand up, returning the fallen sword to the Half-Elf.

Balen's grin softened, becoming impish. "And you'll never make a decent thief is you can't even tell you've been burgled." Flipping the knife over, he presented it to Hawk, hilt first.

"Man, maybe you should think about changing careers." Hawk ruefully slipped the dagger back into its boot sheath.

"Never work. Cities aren't really my thing. Do you think you can teach me?"

"You've got talent and you can still use some of what Jaxon taught you. A few of those moves are just variations of what I do. But, you've got a good technique and you're adaptable. That's always a good factor."

"I agree," Joryn pushed himself off the wall, announcing his presence. "You've already got what it takes to survive a fight, and outside a tourney that's all you really need. The fancier moves that Hawk can teach you look pretty, but tend to get left behind when you're in a life-and-death situation."

"So, I don't have to learn a particular fighting style?"

Hawk shook his head. "No. Look, everyone learns the basics, right? Then they use what works for them, what's familiar or more comfortable for their style of weapon, body type, terrain, etc. There's no one fighting style that's better than all the others, just a conglomerate that works for you."

Balen nodded in understanding. The three entered the stables to put away the practice gear and check on the horses. "Think you can show me how to do that disarming move you used on me?"

"Sure, if you show me that diving move you used."

"Deal."

8

Myla finished her morning prayers. Raising from her lotus position and extending her arms straight up, she stretched until she stood tiptoe. "Good morning."

In the bed beneath the window Rianna opened her eyes, a mild look of distaste crossing her features as the dawn light shone on her. "How can you be so cheerful? It's barely dawn. Much too early for such cheerfulness." The Mage pulled the blankets up around her chin, blocking the light from her eyes.

"Ah, come now. It's a new day. Not a cloud to be seen. It's a glorious morning. Come on. Let's go down for breakfast."

A muffled negative was the reply. "We don't have to leave until tomorrow. Then I'll deal with early morning wake up calls. Until then, I think I'll take advantage of this nice soft bed, thank you very much."

The Cleric shrugged. "Suit yourself. I hope I'll see you before the noontime meal." She chuckled at the half-hearted wave she received from the depths of the bedclothes as she headed out the door.

She ran into Simond in the hallway. "Good morning. What plans do you have for today?"

The Paladin shrugged expansively. "There's not much to do until we pick all our gear up tomorrow."

"Care to join me in a bit of sparring?"

8

The two warmed up in the courtyard beside the stables. Balen was perched on a low branch of an apple tree that grew in one corner. He was munching on a large piece of fruit - much to Simond and Myla's amusement, as the tree wasn't even in bloom. "I'll have one a piece for each of you when you're finished." A glint of mischief shown. "But, you'll have to earn them."

"Nice bit of incentive, isn't it?" Myla asked with a grin.

"Think you're up to the challenge?" Simond grinned, loosening his sword in its sheath.

"Bring it on."

The clang and clash of steel soon gave them an audience. Several children stood near the courtyard entrance watching the swordplay with wide eyes. When one ventured closer, leaning up against the tree Balen had claimed, the Druid dropped an apple at the girl's feet. If possible, the girl's eyes widened further as she scooped the fruit up. Rather than biting into it immediately, as Balen had expected, the child darted back to the others to share. The youngest got the first bite, juice dribbling down his chin having escaped from a wide grin.

Three more apples dropped from the tree. They were pounced upon with shouts of glee. The girl-child peered up into the tree branches, but was unable to find anything. Patting the bark she whispered, "Thank you," and turned her attention back to the sparring.

Myla did a quick left-hand swipe with her sword, trying to take the Paladin by surprise. A jolt went up her arm as the blow was blocked. She dodged backward to avoid a slash aimed at her midsection. "You've gotten better."

"After nearly seven years training, I should hope so!"

"Who've you been studying with? Talon Marks?" She spoke of the weaponsmaster that had taken her under his wing when she was just learning the art of swordplay.

Simond shook his head. "Talon died four years ago." He quickly pulled back a blow as the Cleric dropped her guard in shock.

"Died? How?" She blinked up at him, eyes wide.

"He was crossing a frozen lake when his horse threw him. He fell through the ice and drowned." Simond frowned. "His apprentice nearly died as well trying to save him. By the time a Cleric could be called, it was too late."

A soft heart-felt curse was heard and Myla slowly sheathed her sword.

Simond put a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

She nodded; eyes bright with unshed tears. "Not your fault. He was a good man. And a brilliant swordsman."

"That he was." He hesitated. "Are you going to be alright?"

She swiped a sleeve across her face. " I'll be fine. Just a shock, you know? I think … I'm going to light a candle for him. If you'll excuse me." She slowly walked out of the courtyard, smiling absently at the children in passing.

Simond sighed again, sheathing his own sword as he strode back into the Tavern. The children exchanged glances, shrugged and moved off, munching on apples. The uppermost branches shivered once and were still.

888

Simon stopped and blinked at everyone in confusion. "Where did that come from?"

"It doesn't matter," Blair interjected. "It works. Keep going."

888

Chapter 8:

The next morning, the small village was awakened by what sounded like a full-scale battle being waged behind the Mockingbird Inn. A sparring session was in progress and a strange sight it was: nearly twenty people were in the small courtyard working in small groups.

On the eastern side of the courtyard, an Elf practiced with a shorter Half-Elf. Every once and while they would demonstrate a certain move to the two young boys who watched avidly from the side. Two large humans - one a Barbarian - battled with sword and axe in the center of the courtyard. They seemed evenly matched. Three townies listened to the direction given by a knight and human woman before mimicking their action with their swords. A slender Elven woman nodded, then flipped three daggers in quick succession at the wood stable door at the approving smile of a middle-aged Human townie. A few women and children took their own turn at the target. The Dwarf grinned at his opponent as the lanky Elven townie hopped over the low swing and pointed out the Dwarf's tendency to pull to the right after each blow.

It was with good wishes and many fare-the-wells that the small troupe left Deluthe the next morning, packs resupplied, armour patched and sufficiently armed to deal with any eventuality that they might come upon.

8

The mountains loomed closer and Simond reckoned they were a day and a half ride from their destination.

8

Rianna moved off the road to take care of some business, keeping out of sight, but not out of earshot of the group. As she knotted the tie on her breeches, she stiffened at the feel of cold steel upon the side of her neck. "Your money or your life, my lady," the gravelly voice whispered in her ear.

She wrinkled her nose as the stench of rotting teeth and halitosis reached her. She flinched slightly as he grasped her left wrist in his grip. She reached for her pouch and hissed as the edge of the knife dug into her skin. "Gently, my lady. Ever so slowly. With two fingers, untie the string. There you go."

While the robber was busy watching the fingers of her right hand, he didn't notice the fingers on her left twist and cross into a specific sigil. She held the pouch between the two fingers. "Now what?"

"Now, be a dove, and place it in this pouch." He shifted behind her, one leg edging into her vision, a pouch hanging open against his thigh. She dropped her pouch into it, her left hand making another sigil. "Now, don't turn around for a hundred count, or make a sound, and we won't have any unpleasantness occur. It wouldn't do to alert your friends. There's a love."

Rianna stood still as the man inched back and away from her. With a final twist of her fingers and a quick stream of words, she turned and flung her arm out at the man, freezing him in place. With a set expression, she strode over to him and looked him deep in the eyes, easily reading the panic in them. "It's always a good idea to know exactly what your mark is capable of before you try to rob them, 'love'," she snarled out the last word and stripped him of his weapons. She efficiently retrieved her purse, and with a mocking grin, relieved him of his own as well.

"Rianna?" Heron's voice sounded.

"Over here. I've got an unwanted visitor."

Shortly after, the eight ringed the luckless would-be thief. "What should we do with him?" Rianna asked, one finger tapping her lips speculatively.

"We could string him up," Heron pointed at a nearby tree. "There's a likely enough branch." He shot a glare at the frozen man.

Hawk shook his head. "We might need the rope later. No good leaving it behind for the likes of him."

"Turn him in to the local authorities," the Paladin proposed.

"Deluth is two days behind us," Myla reminded. "The next town is on the other side of the mountains. Are you sure you want to keep him under watch that long?"

"How long will the spell last?" Joryn asked.

"Until morning."

"Why so long?"

"He startled me and I was in a hurry. I couldn't specify a time."

Jaxon studied the robber unblinkingly. "Leave him."

"What?" Rianna looked askance at him.

"He won't starve by morning. He's away from the road, so no one should take advantage of his helplessness, especially if we camouflage him a bit."

A small smile was shared among them – one that made the robber want to shiver in response. Rianna exchange a glance with Balen and then very obviously made a gesture while the Druid surreptitiously had the surrounding under growth climb and clamber over the horrified man covering him from head to toe in greenery. To casual inspection, he looked like a tree stump. Rianna tucked a dagger into his belt and the companions left the thief without a word.

A candlemark later, the paralyzed thief heard a rustling in the underbrush. His eyes widened, hoping it was someone to free him, fearful that it was not. A large grey wolf padded into view. It sniffed around, uncannily locking gazes with the human. A deep growling commenced and the wolf paced in front of him in agitation. Night fell, the half moon giving the thief all too much light in which to see the lupine gaze still upon him. Snarls jerked him from his uneasy sleep time and time again. He was never aware of the various creatures that had been drawn to his fear stench nor their departure at the wolf's territorial cries. As dawn approached, the wolf moved closer, never dropping its yellow-gold gaze from him. With a snort that sounded suspiciously derisive, it lifted its leg upon his feet. Kicking dirt upon him, it turned its back and left.

Moments later, the thief fell to the ground, tangled in vines, as the spell cancelled. Using his dagger he freed himself and quickly headed towards town, determined to take up a safer occupation.

Three candlemarks after dawn, Jaxon glanced to his left to see a self-satisfied wolf trotting alongside him.

888

"Now, that's funny," Megan chuckled.

"Serves him right," Rhonda agreed.

Blair grinned. "Well, he scared Rianna while she was helpless. As a Druid, I felt it only fair that the same happened to him. Balance."

Daryl glanced at the clock and blinked in surprise. "I think this is a good place to stop for the night."

"What time is it?" Rafe asked, craning his head to see the VCR clock.

"Nearly two," his partner responded.

"I am definitely getting too old for this," Joel groaned as he levered himself up from the couch. "What are the sleeping arrangements for tonight?"

"Rhonda and Megan have Sandburg's room. We borrowed a trundle bed from a neighbor. Simon, you and Daryl are in my room. Joel has the couch and we can put the chairs with the loveseat to make too more beds for Rafe and Brown."

"What about the two of you?" Henri looked at the loftmates.

"Sleeping bags and bedrolls are the way to go," Blair grinned.

Only token protests were made as Jim and Blair rearranged the furniture and provided bedding for their guests. It took another hour for the eight adults to coordinate their evening ablutions. Daryl, Simon, Jim and Henri taking quick showers, the others opting to wait till morning. "You do not want to deal with me after sleeping all night on wet hair," Blair commented.

"Sticks up all over the place, doesn't it?" Meagan commiserated.

"The snarls make rat nests look orderly," Jim smirked.

Blair shot an irritable look at his partner. "Yeah, well, I refuse to be responsible for my actions when people comment on it." He rinsed off the last of the plates. "Anybody need anything before we call it a night?"

"Night, guys." Megan gave a friendly wave before retreating through the French doors behind Rhonda.

"Night, ladies."

Daryl climbed the stairs to Jim's bedroom. He leaned over the railing to look down as the others prepared for bed. "You sure you don't mind us taking your bed, Jim?"

"It's the privilege of authority, Daryl," Jim assured.

"Oh," the young man nodded as he glanced up at his dad. "Guess being a Captain ain't all bad, huh, Dad?"

"Dungeon Master, Daryl. Dungeon Master. A well rested DM is a happy DM and a happy DM means interesting story lines." Blair met his eyes, a grin on his face.

"Oh." A pleased blush colored his cheeks and his father clapped him on the shoulder.

"Good night, gentlemen."

A chorus of "Good night, Captain," and one "Night, Simon," followed him up.

Blair made sure everyone was comfortable. Jim checked all the doors and windows. Fifteen minutes later, only the gentle breathing of sleepers disturbed the loft's silence.

8

Blair glanced up from the frying pan as Rhonda and Megan stepped through the front door. With a grin of delight, he placed a large platter out on the island for the doughnuts the two ladies returned with. "That was quick."

"I don't live that far and my place has two showers." Rhonda admitted as she stashed her purse away.

Megan followed suit, her voice low. "We didn't think anyone would be up to cooking. What are you making, Sandy?"

"Omelets. What's your preference?" It wasn't long before the rest of the group were drawn to the kitchen.

Daryl stumbled downstairs, swiping sleep out of his eyes. He shook his head as he perched on a barstool and watched as Blair expertly flip an omelet over. "Man, how can you possibly be this wide awake?"

"Years and years of practice."

The young man grinned sleepily, pointed to certain ingredients, and propped his elbows on the island to watch Blair at work.

Simon leaned against the island beside his son; blearily staring at the dishes and bowls of ingredients laid out. Blair reached into one bowl that contained thin, twig-like items and put a handful into the pan. "What are those?" Simon asked, brows drawn together.

"Spider legs," was the calm response. Blair had his head down, effectively hiding the mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"Spider legs?" Involuntarily, the burly Captain shuddered and took a step back from the island.

"Yeah, Dad. They're great." Daryl picked up a few and popped them in his mouth. "Want some?" He pushed the bowl over and tried to suppress a grin at the look of horror and distaste that crossed his father's face. Even H and Rafe looked a bit ill as the young man swallowed gleefully.

"Relax, Simon." Jim put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "They're just bean sprouts. Blair gets them in Chinatown."

"Aw, you ruin all the fun, Jim," Daryl mock groused.

"Why are they black?" Simon picked one up, doubtfully looking at it.

"They're fermented," Blair explained. "They get preserved in brine and that's what turns them black. They're good, Simon."

Joel picked one up and tasted it, a thoughtful look on his face. "Not bad. Hey, Blair, put some in mine, okay?"

"Sure thing, Joel. How about it Simon, care to try some?"

"I think I'll stick to more recognizable items if you don't mind."

"How about that?" Rafe pointed at a greenish brown, leafy vegetable.

"Olva Latucka."

"And that would be…?"

"Sea lettuce, also known as seaweed. Chock full of vitamins. Picked that up in Chinatown, too."

"Sounds interesting. I'll have that in mine."

Each made their selections and the group settled themselves back in the circle, pushing the furniture back into their previous positions, while Blair cooked. Coffee and doughnuts brought the more sleepy members fully awake and ready to tackle the mystery of the puzzlebox once more.

888

Chapter 9:

Hawk noticed Balen's odd behavior first. The Druid had dropped to the rear of the group as they climbed the pathway up the side of the mountain, and kept staring along their back trail. "What's wrong?"

"Someone's back there."

Hawk turned to stare. "How do you know?"

"See the flocks of birds? They're taking off in a pattern and none are resettling immediately. Means there's someone traveling this way and they're not being very quiet about it." Another flock took off, their cries just audible. "I'm going to check it out. Keep the others moving, I'll catch up."

Hawk nodded and watched in fascination as the Druid dropped into a crouch, skin darkening and sprouting fur, nose lengthening and merging with his chin into a snout. The silver grey wolf met his gaze for a moment, then took off down the trail.

Simond caught Hawk's attention. "Everything okay?"

"Balen went to check on something. Said he'd catch up."

Balen returned a candlemark later. "There's a dozen people back there."

"Were you able to find out who they are or where they're going?" Several boulders cast a shadowed area where they'd taken a break.

"I caught a few names. Their leader's name is Knutim and I heard them call one Viper."

Hawk blinked, paling slightly, green eyes narrowing dangerously. "Knutim and Viper. Are you sure?"

"As sure as I could be without asking them myself. Why?"

"They're from Cavanocuv. Knutim is a hired mercenary. Very, very good at what he does. Viper ... well, even for a thief he's an unscrupulous bastard."

"Think he's after us?" Heron asked his partner.

"Who else? Knutim doesn't normally range this direction unless he's got orders." He chewed pensively on his lower lip.

Joryn motioned towards the mountain. "Let's press on. I'm sure we can lose them." Nods of agreement were exchanged.

Several candlemarks passed before they decided to rest. Myla pulled out the puzzlebox, blinking as the map changed its focus, showing the surrounding area in more detail. "According to this, there's a small lake on the far side of the third mountain in this chain. The map leads right to it."

"How long will it take us to get there?" Simond rumbled.

"At our current pace, we won't reach the lake until well after sunset. We'll have to camp for the night."

Jaxon pointed, "There's a town to the East, but it sits opposite the lake on the 'other' side of the mountain."

8

"Which way?" Heron asked. The party stood at a crossroads of sorts. One way led in the direction the map pointed and the other led towards the town. The passages were narrow, barely wide enough for a decent-sized wagon to scrape through. The mountains rose on either sides of the passages, giving the no-so-pleasant sensation that the cliff walls were going to fall upon their heads. "Our supplies are running low and it'll take another day or two to reach the next site. I suggest we hit the town first, then backtrack."

They were startled by an arrogant voice behind them. "Stand and deliver."

Turning, they spotted what looked like a lone robed figure. Brown hair streaked with gray hung to his shoulders, a matching beard flowed nearly to his waist. Only a knife and pouch hung from his belt, declaring him either a magic-user or stupid. The glint in his eyes convinced them that he wasn't stupid.

Jaxon nudged Hawk, who was closest, and stared pointedly off to his right. The Elven thief soon spotted the stealthy forms of two others. "Oh, look. Company's coming."

Myra nodded to her left at two more figures. "And me with my hair all askew. Whate'er shall we do?"

Heron grinned, loosening his axe. "Why, show them an appropriate welcome, of course."

"What do you want?" Joyrn shouted, his tone clearly announcing his annoyance at the interruption.

Knutim stepped up to one side and slightly behind the mage, focusing his gaze on Hawk. "A woman gave you an item near a week ago. It was stolen from her master. Kindly return it and we can avoid any unnecessary bloodshed.

"I'm constantly being given tokens by lady admirers and it is of no concern to me whence they came. You'll have to be a bit more specific on which item you're speaking of." Hawk waved his hand dismissively.

"It was no lady, but a common street thief by the name of Trisk." A twisted smile crawled across the mercenary's face. "She was kind enough to name her contact – you – before she expired."

Hawk leaped forward, intent on ripping out the man's throat, howling incoherently as his partner wrapped a burly arm around his waist, lifting him off his feet. The others gripped their weapons, ready to repel the attack that was imminent.

Jaxon drew back his bow, aiming for the obvious threat – the incanting mage. He cursed as a sudden jostle from one side sent his arrow wayward. Dropping the bow, he drew his knife and turned to deflect a blow aimed at his kidneys. The other man's momentum sent both of them into one of the cliffwalls with enough force to knock the air out of his lungs and disorient him a bit. He hissed as a line of fire flared along his lower ribs. A lucky punch disarmed his opponent, and the two rained blows down upon each other.

8

Myla narrowed her eyes and hefted her morningstar. A slight rocking motion sent the metal ball swinging on its chain and she faced the two hired thugs before her. "Who's first?" She gave a startled yelp when they swung at her simultaneously from either side. She ducked and brought her weapon swinging upward, the metal sphere connecting with the two swords that occupied the space where she had once been. The two warriors came around, turning their hips and shoulders to bring their swords in a downward arc. Unable to rise quick enough, the cleric did a forward somersault between the two men. Once more or less upright again, she blindly swung her weapon outward, connecting with a leg just below the knee and bringing one swordsman down. Desperately, she continued her forward scramble, crying out as an edged blade bit deeply just below her right shoulderblade.

8

Rianna dashed to one side, putting her back to the stones. Unmolested for the time being, she quickly weaved together her own spell, hoping she'd finish quicker than her counterpart. She flung her arms out in the other mage's direction, lips curling in fierce satisfaction as her magic missiles streaked toward their target. The robed man fell as if pole-axed, his unfinished spell crackled and flared around him, scorching his exposed skin and setting his robes to smouldering.

8

Joryn stood shoulder to shoulder with Heron and Hawk. The three managed to keep up a virtual wall of steel between them and their four opponents. A rock wall behind them ensured that the oily-looking man with the thin, sharp features would not be able to get at their backs, but none liked the easy, sure way the quartet handled their own weapons.

8

The thief was nearly within striking distance when his quarry suddenly whirled to face him. A cold, calculating gaze swept over him, and the thief noted with a twinge of fear that an almost animalistic ... hunger ... flashed in the smaller man's eyes. The thief grasped his dagger tighter, dropping into a fighter's crouch. The half-elf moved to his left, as if trying to circle the thief. Coney matched each step, looking for an opening to use. He wasn't used to face-to-face confrontations and the easy grace of his opponent made him nervous. He jumped as a wolfish grin crossed the half-elf's features. "Tell me, little rabbit, will you taste as good as you look?" The tip of his tongue ran along his upper teeth and a growl emanated from his throat. Coney saw his death in those amber eyes and with a startled yelp, he scrambled backward, putting distance between himself and this madman. Once out of range, the thief took to his heels; Knutim wasn't paying him enough to deal with psychos.

8

Simond pulled his sword from his opponent's chest, eyes searching for the next threat before the body even finished its collapse. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted one man rabbiting, looking as if the Hounds of Hell were upon his trail. His focus, however, was caught upon a man off to one side, about thirty feet away. Tunic and trews made him seem an ordinary warrior, but the hand-waving gave him away as a mage. Too far away to use his sword, the Paladin palmed a throwing dagger. Taking a steadying breath, he took a step forward and let the blade fly. It sunk into the mage's throat, up to the hilt, but it was too late; the spell had already taken shape in the air. The sudden force backward threw the mage's hands up and the fireball that had been aimed at Hawk's group slammed against the cliffwall with a tremendous crash.

888

"Uh, oh," Rafe commented. The others agreed.

888

The chaos of fighting quickly turned into a chaos of a different sort as the fireball went off. Almost in slow motion, a section of the cliffwall fell away with a thunderous rumble. Shouts of anger turned into shouts of horror and pain as boulders crashed down upon the two companies. People pushed and jostled their way toward safety, the dust and rocks making it difficult to navigate. Pebbles and rocks made good footing a near impossibility. It was hard to tell friend from foe in the confusion, which saved several from a quick knife between the ribs as opponents passed one another.

Silence blanketed the area, broken only by the faint patter of late descending pebbles and the harsh breathing of the survivors. The crossroads were impassable, it would take months of hard labor before even a footpath could be made through what was left of the pass.

8

Blood ran down into his eyes and Balen swiped impatiently at it with one paw as he studied the path before him. He lay behind a boulder, the way behind him blocked by rubble, the way before blocked by Knutim and three of his company. His own friends were nowhere in sight, his head and shoulder hurt, and his opponents looked too alert for his tastes.

Just behind and to the right of his enemies, Balen could make out a faint trail that led up and around a bend of the mountain. If he could reach it, he'd be able to find a quiet spot to heal himself and see about locating the others.

Knutim muttered darkly to himself as one of his men bandaged a deep cut in his arm. "Damn you, Sweddar. 'I have a job for you. Real simple. Just find the girl and retrieve what she's stolen from me.' You didn't mention anything about cross-country hikes or that we'd be up against seasoned fighters." He addressed his men. "We'll backtrack to that last town and send a message to Sweddar. If he wants to pursue this, he'll have to make arrangements for more men."

"No more mages, though. Alright?" one man asked while staring uneasily at the landslide.

Knutim spat. "Piss for brains, the lot of them."

"Captain!"

Balen's attention was diverted by a voice nearly in his ear. "Guess we won't go hungry tonight." The slender elven archer drew back on his bow, drawing a bead on Balen. A low snarl echoed off the rocks and the wolf turned to meet his attacker. The other three drew their swords and moved for a closer look.

Knutim nodded. "A wolf pelt will fetch a hefty price. Go a long way to help resupply us. Try not to damage it too badly, Nicoli."

The elf nodded, his arms steady. "Viper, swing around. Get the thing out in the open."

A small oily man with thin features circled around in the hopes of flushing the creature from cover. Balen started forward, jerking back at the last second, the arrow ruffling the fur between his ears. Nicoli cursed, quickly pulling another arrow from his quiver. Balen never gave him another chance. With a howl, he threw himself forward, dashing between the legs of one of the swordsmen. Off balance, the man crashed into Nicoli, the two going down in a tangle of limbs and weapons. Balen scrambled up the steep incline and soon left the shouting men far behind.

8

Myla exchanged horrified looks with Hawk before they returned their gaze to where they last saw their friends. "Are they dead?"

Hawk shook his head slowly. "I don't know."

"We made it," the cleric tentatively brought up. "Don't you think they might have as well?"

"Anything's possible," he winced and held his side where a large stone had slammed into him. "Got any Healing spells available?"

"A couple."

"Then you can use them on us." Two of Knutim's swordsmen were nearby. One man knelt beside his comrade. Blood trickled from a cut in his forehead, but other than a slight wavering in his stance as he balanced on one knee, he looked fine. His companion, on the other hand, didn't look nearly as well. Blood poured from a wound on the right side of his head, matting his hair and soaking his tunic. Myla was dismayed to see blood trickling from the man's ears and nose. His right eye was a mass of broken blood vessels, a film already developing over the iris. The man's breathing had a raspy, bubbling quality to it and the rhythm was erratic and slowing. Soon the man would be within the arms of his god and no amount of healing she could provide would prevent it.

"I can ease his way. But, he's too injured to benefit from any help I can give."

Green eyes flashed in anger, hatred, and fear. "You're lying. You could help him if you wished."

The cleric knelt opposite the upset man. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but believe me, I cannot heal him. Please, let me end his suffering."

The man stared into her eyes and she saw the despair well up as he nodded. Ignoring her, he clasped his friend's hand, trying to provide some comfort. Myla placed a hand on the mortally wounded man's forehead and closed her eyes, calling out to her God. "Oh, Benevolent One, hear my plea. Bring this man unto you peacefully and without further pain. May his sins be forgiven and his good deeds and thoughts brought to light." Reaching into the man's mind, she cut off the pain receptors, then halted the automatic responses. Within moments, the man slipped from this mortal realm.

A raven's cry echoed high above them.

Knutim's man, Kels, refused their help in burying his friend.

Myla and Hawk withdrew in order to talk and tend to their own wounds. "What now? We can't just leave him here. And the only way out leads toward the lake. I'd rather not have him follow us there."

Hawk nodded. "Yeah. I'd like him where I can keep an eye on him as well. Question is, will he agree and what do we do if he causes us any trouble?"

"Sticking together is the best way to survive. I think he'll come around to realizing that if he doesn't already. And if he gives us any trouble ... we can always tie him to a tree and leave him there."

Hawk studied Myla speculatively. "It'd be kinder to kill him."

"So who's in the mood to be kind?" was the cold response as she stared once more at the rubble.

8

Simond stood side by side with Jaxon as the two stared in dismay at the pile of rubble in front of them. Behind them, they could hear Heron's cursing as Rianna helped him rig an armsling. "I cannot believe I broke the same damn arm again."

"Do you think any of them survived?"

"I hope so," was the feverent prayer.

Rianna frowned in annoyance at the three men who lay trussed and gagged against the stone wall. "Have you decided exactly what we're going to do with these ruffians?"

Simond ran a hand over his face, trying to ignore the throbbing in his right shoulder and hip. He pulled out a piece of parchment, glad he'd bought the map earlier. "According to the map there's a small village about a day's journey along this track." He spread it out on a convenient rock. "If," he cleared his throat. "If the others managed to escape the landslide, they're either back along the trail we entered the mountains or along this second trail."

"Where does it lead?"

"If they don't get forced off the path, it will take them in the direction of the lake. They can reach it in about two days." He tapped the map, tracing the trail their companions would have to take. "From there, with this way blocked, there's only one logical way out of the area. They'd eventually end up at the village."

"If they survived and aren't too injured,"Rianna interjected.

Simond nodded solemnly.

Jaxon sighed, then unlimbered his bow, which had come through the ordeal miraculously unscathed. He started down the path. "I'll see if I can find some game. We'll also need to find some shelter for tonight."

888

"Hey, Joel, where's your character?" Henri looked up from the small sketch he'd made of the situation.

"Um ... uh ... I don't know. I got so caught up in what everyone else was doing." Joel glanced about sheepishly.

Daryl laughed and picked up a pair of dice. "You've got a 50/50 chance of either being with Hawk and Myla or with Simond's group."

"Why not Balen?" Rafe asked curiously.

"True. Up to you," Daryl offered. "High, you're with Simond. Middle, you're with Hawk, and low, you're with Balen. Okay?"

"Sounds reasonable."

Dice clattered against the wood surface of the tray. "Forty-two. Middle. You're with Hawk and Myla."

"How'd we miss him?" Megan asked.

Daryl shrugged, "You tell me." He sat back with a slight smile.

888

Myla looked up sharply from where she was inventorying their meager supplies. A grating sound came from the landslide and the cleric nervously rose to her feet, fearful of a secondary avalanche. Hawk and Kels joined her, warily watching as the rocks and boulders seemed to give a great heave. A small sturdy figures was expelled from the resultant crash, coughing and choking from the raised dust. Picking itself up, it slapped at its clothes, raising another cloud of dust that momentarily obscured the facial features.

"By the Stones, I never want to go through that again!" the deep rumbley bass brought tentative smiles to Hawk's and Myla's faces.

"Joryn? Is it really you?" Myla raced over, throwing her arms around the stocky Dwarf.

Joryn returned the embrace, nearly crushing the air from her lungs. Hawk slapped his shoulder heartily, ignoring the sting as he made contact with the chain mail over the boiled leather armour the Dwarf wore. "How did you survive?"

The Elf was caught in an incredulous look. "Think a small thing such as this would stop one who's lived most of his life within the Mother's womb? I'm a Dwarf, lad. A tiny rockslide is nothing to the likes of me." He glanced around, his rough humor falling from him. "The others?"

Slow head shakes were his answer. "We don't know."

Myla perked up a bit as an idea came to her. "They might be on the other trail. Could you tunnel a path through this?"

Joryn ran a hand through his beard, dislodging small pebbles and rockdust. "I don't have the gift of tunnel-shaping like others in my clan do. What I've done was merely ... an innate survival skill. It's not something I've ever been able to consciously operate."

A pall once more fell over the group and the shadows began to deepen as the cliffwalls hid the slowly setting sun.

888

"Perfect." Daryl's smile blossomed and the others nodded their approval.

888

Balen scrambled over the rock after the rabbit that was trying desperately not to become a meal. Dashing around a corner in the trail, intent on his prey, he crashed headlong into a pair of spindly legs. Man and wolf fell in a tangle of limbs, each voicing perplexed confusion at their predicament. Amber eyes met muddy brown.

Coney rose to a crouch, but a wolfish grin full of sharp, white canines made him freeze. Coney suddenly remembered the words of the mad half-elf he'd encountered. 'Tell me, little rabbit, will you taste as good as you look?' A twinge of superstitious fear crept along his spine as the animal ran the tip of its tongue along its upper teeth. With a yelp, Coney dived to one side, grabbing a handful of dirt and pebbles. As the wolf snapped at him, the thief tossed the debris at the wolf, a portion of his mind marveling at the accuracy of the throw, the rest intent on getting as far away from the animal as possible.

As the thief took off, a thin keening emanating from his throat, Balen pawed at his face in annoyance, 'Damned coward.' For a moment, his instincts screamed at him to pursue the obvious prey – after all, it was running – but managed to curtail the chase before it began – Man flesh was taboo for the time being – and resumed searching for a more palatable meal.

888

"For the time being?" Rafe asked, nose wrinkled in distaste. "Don't tell me Balen is cannibalistic?"

Blair's eyes were hidden for a moment as he turned his head and light flashed off his glasses. The younger man shrugged. "He's spent most of his life in the forest, usually as a wolf. He's only been hanging out with Jaxon for a few years." He shrugged again, letting the thought trail off. A slow smile crossed his face as his eyes were once again obscured by the glare. He chuckled at Brian's shudder and rose to get another bag of chips, conscious of the speculative looks following him.

888