Claudia couldn't resist one last glance back over her shoulder as Goliath galloped ahead. She spared a moment to watch the dog as it raced to join them, but her concern was truly all for the increasingly distant figure of Helena de Navarre. The injured woman stood amidst the bloody, impromptu battlefield as if carved from stone, her shadow distorted by the angle of the setting sun.

Even as Claudia watched, the strength the young thief had already come to take for granted failed, and Helena sank to her knees. The dog stopped to look back to its mistress as she fell, obviously torn between its duty to her and its desire to protect its friend the hawk - unable to choose, it gave a little pained whine as it shifted helplessly in place.

Those conflicting loyalties perfectly mirrored Claudia's own, but she had no real choice - even if she hadn't somehow sensed God's hand at work in all of this, Helena's threat still rang quite clearly in her ears. Turning her attention back to the distant and rapidly darkening hills that Goliath led them toward, she squared her shoulders and steeled her resolve even as she urged the horse to go faster.

Fortunately, Goliath was well-trained enough to compensate for Claudia's lack of experience in the saddle, and didn't stint to do so - there was no trace at all of his usual prickliness, and his rider was thankful for it. With his help, Claudia somehow managed to keep herself planted firmly on Goliath's back as they raced down the road at full speed, winding up into the increasingly steep hills ahead of them.

The horse even seemed to know where they were headed, and how important it was that they get there - he led them along their chosen course with a careful deliberation and intent that seemed almost human, pacing himself to avoid the risk of foundering while maximizing their progress. Claudia was more grateful than she could say for the beast's cooperation and autonomy, as it allowed her to focus her attention on keeping the hawk as secure and comfortable as possible.

Goliath apparently shared Claudia's concern for its comrade's comfort - despite everything else he was already tasked with, the charger managed to move as smoothly as water or silk as they climbed higher and higher into the hills. Even with their collective efforts, though, the poor bird was clearly afraid and in pain - it cried out weakly just as they passed a massive stone cliff.

Claudia halted Goliath there to check over her precious cargo, doing her best to soothe and comfort the hawk while she checked it over a second and third time. The bird seemed to be holding on, but she was no healer to say so for sure. "It's okay - I've got you. We're getting you help."

The dog, who had finally caught back up with them, began to prance around and bark, and Claudia took a closer look at the towering cliff beside them. Her breath caught as she took in the ruins of an abbey on the heights above them, not quite willing to believe that they'd reached their destination so quickly and effortlessly. Still, they were all due for a bit of good luck right about now, after everything they'd been through...

The stark lines of the abbey's crumbling walls - once so imposing - were now softened by a tangled mass of ivy and other clinging vines. The only thing still completely intact was the bell tower, still standing tall as it watched over the valley like some kind of stone sentinel. Seeing that, all of Claudia's earlier doubts fled - there could hardly be two old monasteries so close by, so this had to be the place Helena had described.

The hawk shifted again, and Claudia looked down at it, alarmed at the blood staining the cloth she'd kept carefully pressed against its wound. She had no idea how much blood hawks had in them, but it was clear enough that the bird couldn't lose much more than it already had - the thought made the arrow sticking out from the tiny body look all the more cruel and menacing. Making one last attempt to comfort the poor thing, Claudia all but cooed at it. "There it is - see? It won't be much longer."

She shifted the bird a little in her arms, and almost laughed in relief as it snapped at her with its sharp beak. The resurgence of its usual cranky self, even if only in response to being painfully jostled, could had to be a good sign. "That's some gratitude for you. You better behave, or I'll tell Helena on you."

The dog let out a little bark, as if in agreement, and even Goliath gave an amused whicker. Claudia, unable to resist continuing her nervous jest, grinned a bit wider. "See? You're outnumbered. These two will even be witnesses in my defense."

Goliath didn't need any urging to get them all moving again, carefully picking his way up the narrow trail that led up to the abbey's gates. Claudia halted them there and stared anxiously at the silent walls. Birds - sparrows, she guessed - flitted in and out of the vines and ivy. That was the only sign of life thus far, and she felt suddenly fearful that rabbi might have died or simply moved on. "Hello? Is anyone there? For the love of God, I need some help out here!"

For several terrifying heartbeats, no one answered and only birdsong broke the silence. Finally, just as Claudia had given up hope, a gruff, masculine voice filled the air. "Whoever you are, this had better be good! I was finally sleeping after being awake for two straight days..."

The old man that peered blearily down at Claudia from one of the parapets certainly seemed half-asleep. His unruly salt-and-pepper hair - and even more unruly eyebrows - certainly also supported his statement, as did the rumpled state of his habit. His eyes also seemed to rove at random across the area just before the gate, jumping from object to object while never actually settling on Claudia and her bizarre retinue.

Well, he was obviously old and definitely tired, so Claudia assumed that maybe his eyesight was going too. Sighing inwardly, she called out again. "Rabbi? Rabbi Weisfelt?"

That seemed to help the old man focus, as his gaze finally settled on Claudia. It held a combination of bleariness, curiosity, and paranoia that Claudia couldn't quite take offense at. "I'm Rabbi Weisfelt. Do I know you, young man?"

Claudia shifted the hawk in her arms to offer the holy man a better view. "I was told to bring you this hawk. She's hurt."

"A hunting accident, I take it? Fine, fine, I'll take a look." Apparently, the rabbi was used to people bringing him wounded animals, though his next words as he half-muttered to himself made it clear that he didn't hold very high hopes for this particular case at first glance. "At least I'll get dinner for my trouble if it doesn't work out..."

Claudia felt a sudden surge of indignation, echoed by both the dog and by Goliath. "This hawk isn't someone's dinner! It belongs to Helena de Navarre!"

Weisfelt's eyes widened as he froze, and all trace of fatigue faded instantly as he moved to start tugging at the rope that opened the gates. "My god... Bring it inside, quickly! Quickly!"

For all of the rabbi's urgency, the gates were barely opened by the time Claudia had carefully let herself down from Goliath's back - an ungainly procedure at the best of times, and nearly impossible to pull off with the hawk cradled in her arms. Still, she managed it, grabbing for Goliath's reins once she was steady on her feet. "You wait here, boy. We have to ride back and check on Helena -"

The horse started at the sound of its mistress' name and bolted before Claudia's grip on its reins was secure enough to stop it. Claudia sighed as she watched Goliath gallop back the way they'd come, but she couldn't fault him for wanting to go to his mistress. "Just tell her I got here, okay?"

Weisfelt started yelling the second the gate was open enough to walk through. "Hurry up, boy! This is no time to slack off!"

The hawk stirred a little at all the noise, drawing Claudia back to the task at hand, and she hurried through the gate. There was a drawbridge lying open in front of the abbey's main entrance, across the courtyard from where she currently stood, and the rabbi waited impatiently on it for her, his brown monk's habit twitching as he shifted from foot to foot.

The rabbi turned to head across the bridge the instant she got close, and Claudia followed as expected. Not two steps in, though, the old man stopped and threw an arm out, almost catching her in the chest. "Walk on the left side - only the left side."

Claudia didn't see anything abnormal about the bridge, but the wood looked pretty old, and Weisfelt was taking his own advice about staying to the left. Shrugging, the thief followed his example as they both headed into the abbey. "Whatever you say, Rabbi."

The old man led them through a maze of drafty corridors and empty cells, up flights of stairs worn smooth and hollow by countless feet. Claudia wondered idly why anyone would choose to live alone in the ruined abbey, but had to admit that it did hold a certain charm even in its run-down state - she'd probably enjoy exploring it, were the situation not so dire.

Finally, the rabbi led them into a small room deep in the abbey. The increasing light as Weisfelt rushed to light some candles revealed sparse but comfortable furnishings - a plain, solid table and its accompanying chairs, a cot covered with old but well-maintained sheepskins. Claudia also spotted a few personal items - books, quills and ink, and a few bits of clothing - and realized that this must be the rabbi's own private quarters.

She barely had time to ponder this fact before the holy man was ordering her around again - this time, though, it was with the practiced, decisive authority of an experienced healer. "Lay the bird there, on the bed."

Claudia did exactly as ordered, setting the bird down on the furs as carefully as she could. The dog, who had padded silently alongside them the whole time, whined a little as it snuffled at its injured friend. It then backed away quickly, somewhat chastened, as the bird snapped at its nose - even under the circumstances, Claudia had to smile a little at the familiar exchange.

Her amusement was short-lived, however, as Rabbi Weisfelt started snapping out orders yet again - though at least this time he included the dog. "Now get out - both of you."

Claudia was about to protest when the dog did it for her - the usually placid animal suddenly raised its hackles and growled its refusal at the rabbi. Weisfelt, seemingly unperturbed, just rolled his eyes. "Fine. Fine. You can stay - you, out, now!"

It was Claudia's turn to roll her eyes, but she did as she was told - no sense in delaying the poor bird's treatment just because she felt like being stubborn. Besides, she had a feeling that the dog would watch over its friend every bit as carefully as any human. Not that any of that kept her from being seriously annoyed when Weisfelt slammed the door closed almost on her heels and then locked it from the inside.

With nothing to do but wait, Claudia sank down to the stone floor of the hallway and tried to get comfortable. Once that was done - or as done as it was going to get on a cold stone floor - she pulled the dagger from her boot and used its tip to start picking the locks on her manacles. She was a pretty good lock pick, but shackles weren't exactly her forte - the practice certainly wouldn't hurt her.

She heard Weisfelt move around in the room, then heard him pause by the door as he addressed the wounded hawk. "Helena was right - I can help you. I'll have to leave you for a little while, though - don't be afraid."

He stepped out of the room then, eyes locking with Claudia's, and she saw an unexpected warmth there that made her decide he was clearly a kinder, gentler soul than he pretended to be. She was still somewhat hampered by her as-yet-unpicked manacles, but she couldn't resist offering to help in any way she could. "Is there anything I can do, Rabbi?"

"I'm afraid not, boy," Weisfelt replied brusquely, but there was a genuine compassion and understanding beneath it. That still didn't prevent him from making a show of closing the door and locking it from the outside before he hurried off down the hall in search of who knew what. Claudia, for her part, just shrugged, and went back to working the locks on her shackles.

The sun continued to set as he worked, and he couldn't help pausing repeatedly to look westward, concern written in his face and his eyes as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky streaked with a ruddy afterglow that reflected ominously off the clouds. Fortunately, Artie had had long practice in not letting his emotions detract from whatever task was at hand - even distracted as he was, he quickly gathered everything he needed to treat the injured bird waiting back in his cell.

Back in the cold stone hallway outside that cell, Claudia had finally managed to pick the second manacle. It dropped to the floor with a clang even more satisfying than the first, just as the last of the light fled, and Claudia rubbed at her wrists with a grin, grateful to be free of the added weight. Then she rose to her feet and turned to stare speculatively at the lock on the door behind her.

She ran her fingers over the lock, tracing its outline as she considered its age and potential complexity. Finally, she took up her dagger and slipped it into the mechanism, shifting it around carefully until she had everything aligned the way she wanted - in a matter of seconds, her task was complete and the lock clicked open. Eager to check on her friends - too much so to wonder at herself for giving a pair of half-wild animals that label - she quietly but quickly opened the door and stepped through it.

Whatever she had expected to see, the sight that greeted her was not it, and she froze mid-step.

The hawk and the dog were nowhere to be seen. In their place stood Helena's friends, the strange man and woman that Claudia kept running into every time Helena disappeared on her. The man was wearing an oversized set of tunic and pants, no doubt borrowed from the rabbi, and he stood beside the bed, drawing the furs up over the woman who now lay in the hawk's place there. The woman, looking even paler than before, had a suspiciously familiar crossbow bolt jutting from one shoulder that Claudia tried very hard not to notice.

As if sensing the scrutiny, the woman's eyes flew open and settled on Claudia. They widened slightly as she recognized the young thief, then narrowed again in pain as she tried to raise her head - a pain reflected in her voice as she finally spoke. "Helena - where is she? Is she-"

The man moved to still his friend, but Claudia could tell that she wouldn't stop until she had her answers. "Helena is - she'll be fine, my lady. You need to rest now."

The man turned to look at Claudia then, face an odd mixture of gratitude and wariness as the injured woman relaxed a little. "What happened?"

Claudia swallowed hard at the weight of that stare, and at the weight of the cold, terrifying truth outlined by her answer to that one simple question. "There was a fight with some of the Bishop's Guard. It was horrible, but Helena defeated them all - I've never seen her fight like that before... I tried to help, but there wasn't much I could do - I only made it worse, actually, because the hawk got hurt."

Claudia's voice dropped to a whisper as she forced the next few words out through a throat constricted by fear. "But you both know that, don't you?"

The man just continued watching Claudia, but the woman finally closed her eyes and lay back against the pillows. "Yes. We know."

Some impulse Claudia couldn't name or understand drew her closer to the bed, and she stood staring down at the injured woman. She'd never seen anyone quite so beautiful or otherworldly - it was heartbreaking to see her suffer this way. Finally, Claudia couldn't hold back the question she'd wanted to ask since the moment they'd met. "Are you spirit - or are you flesh? Are you... real?"

The woman merely turned her head away, but not before Claudia spotted the tears filling her eyes. Her answer was barely audible. "I - I am sorrow..."

Claudia could have sworn the man flinched at the woman's words, but it happened so fast she couldn't be sure - all she knew was that she seemed to feel the same need he did to comfort his friend. Even as she tried, though, a lifetime of practice lying suddenly deserted her, and words of any sort refused to form. Then the door swung open, and Rabbi Weisfelt stood there staring at them all in what looked very much like astonishment, confusion, or both.

"How did you-?" Weisfelt began, looking pointedly at Claudia, but then just dropped the question as he started moving to treat his patients. Handing the man a handful of herbs and a spare mortar and pestle off the table, the rabbi shoved him in Claudia's direction. "Get him out here, and treat that head wound. I'll make some willow bark tea later if he needs it."

Both Claudia and the man started arguing with the holy man simultaneously, words indistinguishable as they talked over each other. Finally, Weisfelt raised his voice, cutting through the din to silence them both. "Enough! I know you want to help, but I have work to do! Now do as you're told and get out - both of you!"

There was no arguing with him, and Claudia ended up out in the hallway with the man - whose name she had never thought to ask - as Weisfelt slammed and locked the door yet again. At least they'd been allowed to light a pair of torches first so they could see...

The man excused himself, saying something about getting some fresh water to go with the herbs the rabbi had given him. Still dazed and a little numb, Claudia just nodded - once he was out of sight, she leaned back against the cold stone wall and slid down it until she was sitting again on the equally cold stone floor.

The rabbi's voice carried through the door, just like previously, and Claudia still had the wherewithal to smile a little at the kindness in his voice as he spoke to his patient. "I know you're angry and afraid, but I can help. God didn't bring you here just to let you die..."

Suddenly feeling an overwhelming need for fresh air, Claudia pushed to her feet and began to wander down the corridor. She didn't plan to go far - her erstwhile nurse would be back at any moment - but she didn't have to. There was a garden just a little ways down, close enough that she'd hear if they called for her, extending out into a larger yard that held some chickens, a few goats, and even a mule.

There was an old, battered work table nearby with bits and pieces of some unfinished project on it, and Claudia's ever-curious mind drew her over to investigate. Those bits and pieces turned out to be a bunch of apples and oranges, all arranged in rings like some sort of puzzle. Snatching up an apple, she polished it on her tunic as she studied the arrangement in front of her - it meant absolutely nothing to her, of course, but it kept her mind at least partially occupied.

Footsteps broke the silence a little while later as the man, having retrieved the water he needed, tracked her down. He handed her a damp cloth, then took a seat near her and began working the mortar and pestle in silence while she cleaned herself up, allowing Claudia the chance to speak first. When she didn't, he took upon himself to make conversation. "That head wound doesn't look too bad - I bet your head hurts, though, huh?"

Claudia nodded warily, afraid he was referring to being tricked by her the other night, but the man just gave her a wry grin. "I know the feeling - I can't even tell you how many times Helena's clocked me a good one during training. I'm Pete, by the way."

It wasn't at all difficult to imagine Helena deliberately whacking someone upside the head for being sloppy while training, and Claudia couldn't help returning the smile. She didn't let her guard down completely, though. "I'm Joshua."

The words felt wrong even as she spoke them, and Claudia suddenly realized that the last few days spent living as herself had changed her enough that the lie no longer fit the way it once had. Still, it fooled Pete well enough that he didn't question it as he started applying the mashed herbs to her temple - she knew it was far too soon for the poultice to have any effect, but it seemed to be helping already anyway.

That may have had as much to do with Pete as with whatever concoction Weisfelt had had him make. He had rough soldier's hands, exactly as expected, but there was something almost brotherly in his touch and his demeanor that she couldn't help responding to - it was too much like what she imagined the real Joshua would have been like if he'd lived.

It was far too morbid a thought for her taste just then, so Claudia allowed her grumbling stomach to distract her. Taking a bite of the apple she'd snagged, she let Pete draw her into idle conversation - neither of them was paying any real attention to anything the other said, but that wasn't the point. It was all about distracting themselves from worrying about the injured woman down the hall.

They shared an anxious glance as that same woman's low cry of pain filtered through to the garden - the rabbi at work treating the arrow wound - and Claudia's heart almost broke at the mixture of emotions that slid across Pete's face before he could hide them. She'd never really cared about anyone else in her life, and her unexpected empathy caught her by surprise.

Back in his cell, Arthur Weisfelt bustled around a smaller worktable, carefully grinding herbs with a pestle even as he kept a constant watch on the injured woman lying on the bed. Her eyes - he'd never forget their peculiar shade of moss green - were closed, but he could still picture everything they'd hold if they were open and looking at him. In truth, he probably deserved every bit of it.

A sudden flare of guilt made him stop and check on his patient again, even though nothing had changed. The cool, damp cloth he'd just placed on her feverish forehead was still there, and the careful incisions he'd made to help remove the arrow continued to bleed, though not enough to cause added concern - still, the brief pause stilled his emotions and let him focus again.

Turning back to his work with the herbs, Artie held the mortar over a candle flame to warm the poultice he'd concocted. A wolf howled mournfully somewhere out in the night, and he watched his patient twitch in response out of the corner of his eye. She didn't wake, though, which probably all for the best - even if it went perfectly, this was going to be a bloody, painful process.

Finally, the poultice was heated properly, and he moved to pack it as gently as he could around the arrow - the woman stirred as he did so, and the flash of happiness in her eyes at a familiar face in that moment pained him as badly as the arrow wound he was treating. It rapidly faded into the anger and accusation he'd expected, of course, but she let him continue without protest.

He hesitated once the poultice was in place, unwilling to inflict more pain on the woman before him, until she herself reminded him of his duty. "Do it, old man."

Wanting to spare her the ghastly sight of removing the arrow, Arthur covered her eyes with one hand as he reached for the bolt with the other, not at all liking how thin and frail she seemed. Even injured and weak, though, she was every bit as strong as he remembered - she removed his hand from her eyes, and reached out with her good arm to brace herself against his own much sturdier shoulder.

There was a long moment as they exchanged glances - a questioning look from him, a nod of readiness from her - and then Arthur wrapped his hand around what was left of the arrow shaft and pulled with all his strength.

Out at the table in the garden, Claudia and Pete jumped to their feet as a scream shattered the night. Once it faded, the silence left in its wake was so complete that they could both hear the sound of Claudia's apple slipping from numb, shaking fingers to fall to the ground...

Miles away, safely ensconced within the walls of castle Aquila, the Bishop bolted upright in his canopied bed, pulled from sleep by a sharp, stabbing pain in his shoulder. At first, he stared uncomprehendingly into the shaft of light destroying the quiet darkness of his private chambers - then he touched a hand to his shoulder, seeking a reason for the terrible pain there and finding none. There was no blood, no protruding blade - there wasn't even a wound.

That realization allowed him to escape from the daze of waking unexpectedly, and he was able to understand finally that it had only been a dream. Even so, he clutched at the silk sheets and embroidered quilts for a moment, before wiping the sweat from his forehead on the sleeve of his nightclothes. Once his eyes fully adjusted to the light, there was no doubting that he was in his own bed, safe within his own walls.

The source of the light also became obvious - a young acolyte stood in the doorway, wide-eyed and half-frozen with fear. "Forgive me, Your Grace. You wanted to be told when the wolf-hunter arrived. You said to bring him directly to you."

He nodded, spotting a bulky figure hovering in the hallway beyond the boy. Throwing the bedclothes aside, he gestured for some candles to be lit as he pulled on a dressing gown and settled himself into a nearby chair. The young novice, still clearly terrified, hurried out as soon as his task was complete, advising the Bishop's secretive visitor that he would be received now.

The Bishop, as always, had to fight to conceal his surprise at the preternaturally large man that suddenly stepped into the meager light. The wolf hunter was a massive, unkempt beast of a man - thick, scraggly hair and an equally thick and scraggly beard did little to improve his brutish features or hide the scar running down one side of his face. Dark, cruel eyes dared the Bishop to say something as he watched the holy man take in his rough wolf's fur clothing and wolf's tooth necklace with thinly-veiled contempt.

"Welcome, hunter," the Bishop said, very much pleased to see his guest despite his seeming disdain for the brute. "How have you fared at your task?"