Vihrea half-stumbled, half-ran out to greet the new comers. She glared once at the rapidly spreading bruise on her arm (the silly meat had fell on her running down the stairs) before gripping Vasha in a hug. "No," Vihrea whispered as her sister shook. "Don't cry."

Vasha pulled away. "Everyone thought you were dead," she growled. "For thirteen years--"

"Do not tell me of my mistakes, little sister, I know them well," Vihrea said simply.

"You don't understand!" Vihrea's violet gaze met her emerald. "They're going to kill you!"

"WHAT?!" Vihrea demanded, rounding on Mairda. "Now you tell me?"

The elderly woman frowned. "Young wolf," she said, watching the chickens parade in circles around their owner. "Times are dark. Kordane is threatening war. Harlo is falling under King Lane's rule." Mairda sighed. "Lion and Wolf are standing, hackles raised and teeth bared while Sun and Moon battle in the Sky. Lady Vihrea, you bear the mark of Valdor. But it is against our Law to expose our kind to humans."

"I know the Law," Vihrea said, narrowing her eyes. She ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "Aren't we half human? Don't they see what they denounce is a part of them?"

"It's a part of you, not of them," Mairda whispered. "They know what they are."

Vasha looked up. "When you put your trust in Man, you condemn us all."

"We condemn ourselves," Vihrea growled. She glared at Vasha so fiercely the shadow of the wolf flashed on her face. Vasha shrunk back behind Mairda.

"Princess Wolf," Mairda said gently. "Let's back away from the past and focus on now. Who is your lovely...friend?"

Vihrea looked around, seeing Murtagh standing off to one side, looking mildly confused as the chickens paced circles around him. He shook his head and muttered, "I seriously don't understand you." She gave a small laugh.

"En't gonna get any better. This is Murtagh, he's, um, my mentor...Murtagh, this is my sister Vasha and this is Mairda, the village healer or mystic or something like that." She shrugged and picked up one of the chickens. "And how are you?" she asked it in a baby voice. "Did you miss Momma? Did you?" The chicken clucked, head tilting to one side.

"Uh-oh, I think it thinks you're crazy, Vih," Vasha said.

Vihrea turned around and looked at her, eyebrows raised, "I will throw this chicken at you, and you won't be too happy."

"Girls," Mairda said loudly. They both stopped and stared at the ground. "Now, I'm sure you have questions about this, Murtagh, as do we all, but isn't there someplace we could be other than among the tulips?"

"Um, uh...well, I don't think the king would be too happy, but I guess we could go inside," he answered uncertainly. The small group headed off toward the castle, chickens in tow.

-x-

So, maybe it was that statement that found Murtagh, Vihrea, and Vasha sitting on the floor outside the throne room, listening to Mairda and Galbatorix fight. So far, it was hard to decide who was winning.

"She's not your daughter, you can't control her," Mairda shouted angrily.

"Good point," Vihrea said dully.

"She's been under my care for thirteen years," Galbatorix retorted.

"Valid counter point," Vasha said.

In truth, this seemed to go on for hours. By the time the door opened, all three (six, rather) had entered a foggy sleep. They jolted awake, chickens clucking angrily.

"Get up," Mairda said angrily, walking past them. "All of you."

"But, but," Vasha began. "He can't... he's not..."

"'Gainst the law..." Vihrea added.

Mairda whirled around and gave them a stern look. "The pack will come looking for him, or we take him. I'm not risking this place torn to pieces or our pack lying in blood." The three of them exchanged glances. Vasha patted Murtagh on the back and met Vihrea's gaze. The stared at each other for a moment before trailing after the elder woman. The path back to Harlo was filling with dread, and death was in the air.