A/N: Hey, guys!Thanks for all the support and reviews! Crazy chapter up ahead, so I'll be quick:

I must warn readers of some violence in this chapter (although I bet you, it's not for the reason you think); if it's so much that you think it changes the rating of this story (what happens in this chapter is not going to be common place, and is probably the last time it 'happens' in this story), tell me.

Also, I seem to have no ability, or the patience, to edit my own work (I edited grammar and things like that; I mean stylistically and the actual chapter mechanics) I probably could if I allowed the chapter to sit for some time, but I'm too impatient O_O, so sorry if all that reflects badly for the chapter. I think I did well.

Enjoy! (Oh also, the form of this chapter is weird due to me not wanting to write more time passing paragraphs. so boring)

I actually went and edited this chapter (more like rewrote of thousand or so words of it), so I hope that fixed some of the clarity issues. Thanks again for all the support and corrections!

Oh! How the sun casted off a sea of sapphire flames across the dusty, brown ground. The beast of form and aerial superiority glided towards Nasuada's pavilion. The earth shook just so when it landed. And its long neck slipped between the tent flaps, as if intending to make its presence known.

This must be his dragon, I thought with an unsteadied mind. My feet disregarded any command to move forward, and I stood still with an awe struck jaw catching insects.

Minutes slipped from reason as I attempted to gain some composure. A crowd was eyeing not only the sapphire dragon but me as well. It was as if I was waiting for him, waiting to see Eragon with my own eyes. That was how I felt as sweat rolled down my cheeks like tears. Who was this Dragon Rider that would risk life and limb to kill my father?

Eventually, the pavilion opening parted and, along with a handful of guards, four people departed towards my standstill. Nasuada, with her ebony skin and almond shape, was the first figure I recognized. Beside her paced Elva – the little brat that revealed my secret. Her ghostly eyes regarded me with a disinterested flatness. As if I was too petty to worry over.

Arya then came next, catching up with the Varden leader until they walked side by side. Her exotic beauty forever sparkled in the gleam of the sun rays like polished jewels.

My eyes snagged on the last of the four – hair the color of healthy soil, eyes the color of gentle earthenware. This was Eragon. And it surprised me. He looked younger than I, most certainly younger than Caden or Murtagh. Despite the maturity evident in the straight of his jaw and wide cheeks, there were subtle signs of suppleness around his eyes and lips. His nose line still appeared soft and young. And most surprising were the resemblances he shared with Arya – tapered ears and angled eyes, a poise and gait much too graceful for a human. All this I saw as Nasuada and her company passed right beside me, and our shoulders nearly brushed. Our gazes met; Eragon narrowed a brow towards me and stopped Nasuada.

"You forget to mention something to me," he said. It reminded me of how Arya read my thoughts, the way he seemed to know exactly what he could not.

Nasuada's eyes tightened, thought it was difficult to tell the wrinkle in the dark skin. "I would have told you. However, there are more important 'mentionings' that require your attention at this time."

Eragon turned to me, a confused but analytical spark in his eye. And then there it was – the feeling of intrusion against the side of my head. "Gwendolyn is your name. A unique one in that –"

"She is his daughter, Eragon," Arya said with just the hint of clippings.

There passed between the two a look of quiet communication – Arya hard and annoyed, Eragon eager to understand and listen. For a flicker of moment, I saw the connection Angela had hinted to not too long ago. And then it was gone.

Whatever she said – err, thought – it made Eragon tense and clench his fists. One glance he forced back on me and it was contorted in an enraged mask of shunning. It took him great restraint to say nothing to me, great restraint to follow Arya and Nasuada without causing a scene (although, I haven't the faintest thought as to why he would want to cause a scene with me).

Where has the Varden placed their faith?

"Stay there," Angela hissed in a barely audible whisper. I did as told – moving as cleanly as if I had ordered myself to do so. She did not say it rudely but only out of the delicate balance of the pregnant moment.

Waiting for the setting sun proved to lay pressure on our luck for the night. It was difficult remaining unseen, what with the enemy camp being filled with a hundred thousand men. Five times now, Angela and I had nearly been caught by the wandering eye. If not for the celebratory cup of mead that passed all throughout the camp, we perhaps would have been trapped. And then it was Solembum and Pricilla that saved us now.

Angela was taking a fiery initiative sneaking behind the backs of distracted, drunken soldiers. Pricilla laid on the lap of one while Solembum pushed the mugs of honey-drink just out of sight on the bench of which they sat.

All this occurred while I remained hidden in the darker shades of shadow I could find.

I cannot believe I allowed her to bring me here. It defied all logic! These were my people we were poisoning. Many were sure to recognize me on spot. My palms sweated every moment I remained in such unpredictability.

Angela flitted to each unobserved mug with her jug of frothy poison. Quick and nimble – much more so than any human I was sure – from the patches of stretching darkness and never once did the entertained drunkards look behind them. One reached for his cup without looking back, at which point Angela drew away and slunk back beside me.

"Quickly, let us finish this," she said in a soft, dull tone.

I was too wary to respond.

Our last destination was the cook tent – where most of the barrels of drink would be located. It would be difficult for Angela to dive inside for there were still soldiers coming in and out. Some men were still eating their supper. But for the past hour, we had been making our way towards it, going slowly and with extra caution in both the attempt to remain unnoticed and to draw the sun lower to the ground. It nearly worked.

I wondered numbly once more why I was here. I did little more than carry poison with stiff hands and bite my lip. A part of me, however, believed Angela had a purpose in bringing me here. What that was, I had yet to find out.

"Angela?" I called out in slight panic. Heat bristled my once creamy soft skin as the brew beneath it bubbled and gurgled. The sound made my ears pop.

The wily woman poked her head out from inside her tent. "What is it?"

"Perhaps you should take over the stirring of your… concoction. I fear I feel a tad faint," I said, though my fingers clenched the wooden paddle without sign of loosening.

Angela sighed and pushed her body out from the tent totting a straw basket in her arms. She walked to the cauldron and sat the basket on the ground. "We need to find you a stronger stomach. Perhaps a bear's. Or an Urgal's. That would do quite nicely…."

I held my tongue and watched Angela retrieve her thongs and being to unload the many herbs in her collection. Many of the plants I could not name, Angela's slim and quirky lessons slipping from my memory. But when she pulled out the familiar puff of flower I had not seen since Urû'baen, a fainting spell nearly became instant.

The world faded from black to white to full colored vision. I tottered backwards, tripped on a twig, and fell onto my bottom.

Angela frowned. "You remind me of Aleahma. She was just as clumsy at your stage." It had been weeks since she had given any mention of her sisters but offered no more than that. Rather, she set down the tongs (having clipped the herbs on her cords strung up and about the cauldron like clothing) and took hold of the paddle that had fallen against the side.

It seemed awkward to speak. My face flushed in the mix of climatic heat and embarrassment. The flesh of my tongue dreamed for a taste of sweet water. The scraps of my once glossy, healthy hair now shined with excess of oil and sweat. Even the dresses Nasuada had given to me now were wearing and tearing where the cloth was thin and stretched.

But these times I did not complain. I thought of Caden, and he made me want to be strong.

So I stood and dusted the loose dirt from my skirt and waited a foot behind Angela for direction of what to do.

"Replace the basket inside the tent and take drink from the wineskin on the table," Angela said without preamble. "Then bring out the tea mug from earlier. By that time I will have thought of another job for you."

I walked immediately towards the tent, picking up the basket. As I stepped through the tent flaps, Solembum darted out with swiftness and went to lay by Angela's feet. I nearly cried out but thankfully held my silence.

The wineskin offered a cool drink, and I dared gulp large. It tasted like wet sand as it slid down my throat, but the relief it gave compensated. The mug of tea I found sitting by the edge of a shelf, and soon I was back outside in the humidity.

Angela was truly a strange site as she worked stirring her murmuring brew. The fire of the day made her hair flare and expand like a thunder cloud and yet she felt no visible need to push it out of her face. There was no flinch in her eyes as the concoction emitted a ghoulish green color that painted the apples of her cheeks.

I set the mug on the bench behind the cauldron, giving the black pot a safe breadth of space as I walked by it. What was she making? Even still, Angela had never thought to tell me. Did that mean it was something I did not want or need to know?

Curiosity threatened to wring my neck.

Clearing my throat, I asked, "Please, Angela, would you explain to me the purpose of this vat?"

Angela did not pause in her rhythmic stirring, nor did she care to look up. In fact, she pushed off an answer for so long, I gave up hope she would ever respond. And then… almost apologetic… clearly a deeper shade of Angela than I had ever seen; she said, "I wondered if you were capable of assisting me. You have a unique talent I believe the Varden could use well. It is very much the same that your father –"

"No, it isn't," I interrupted without hesitance. When I realized what I had just done, I clamped my mouth shut. Oh, bloody wine!

Angela humphed and threw a quick, skeptical glance at me. "How do you know that of which I was going to say?"

I shrugged, lips still tightly pursed.

"Speak up, now. I'll have none of that."

My shoulders rolled as I tried to make light of it. "Many people assume that King Galbatorix – my father – is where I obtained the ability of my persuasive voice. But it isn't. He cannot do what I can, at least not without a spell or a sword in his hand."

Angela stopped her stir, eyes wide with keen interest. "Who is it, then, that gave you such a peculiar gift?"

This was the touchy part of the subject. Not even with Caden had I troubled to explain the cause of my ability. Hinted to, yes; but never outright said it. "It is right and truly my mother's. Neither of us are magical beings, but it is a strange trait we share; and she knows not where we get it from in our hereditary."

"We will have to discuss this with greater detail at another time," Angela said with a surety. "But you get me off topic. And I should have told you this much earlier. But I was still uncertain….

"The Empire's army is numerous – much more so than our own. I cannot allow tomorrow's battle to sway away from us. So for the past few weeks I collected and stored many various poisons, and now I create a way for the Varden to grasp an advantage!"

I winced. "You are going to poison the army?"

"We are going to poison the army – tonight!"

"Oh." Perhaps I should not have asked.

Angela perceived the pale expression on my face. "Think of it as weeding a garden, Gwendolyn. And then you might not feel so sick."

My mouth opened to respond when out of the corner of my eye I noticed someone approaching. Turning my head for a better look, I realized it was Eragon – and behind him his dragon!

The sapphire beast held my full attention. The hot sun splayed dancing lights across her beautiful scales. Big, blue eyes caught my appraising gaze, and for a moment I felt faint again. But I blinked and breathed deeply to keep from passing out.

Eragon tensed as he neared and noticed me there. But he seemed to have resolved to tolerate me, as he greeted me first with a surprisingly civil tone. "I'm afraid we never got the proper introduction. I am Eragon Rider of Saphira."

I took a quick breath. "I am Gwendolyn DaughterofVerdandi."

Our eyes locked, and I was sure I caught a glimpse of shock – perhaps at my not claiming my being princess. Truth be told, I too was surprised how easily that statement fell through my lips.

There was more he wanted to say. Plain as day, it was plugged behind a wall that threatened to crack. But Angela interrupted us, called him out in a serious, mad manner.

I heard little words as I watched the Rider. His dragon kept close beside him, and I wondered at her but was too frightened to ask. All the while, I observed to learn, to compare. An image of Caden firmly planted itself in the forefront of my mind, and I dreamed of him riding a dragon. He would be the greatest – would far succeed Eragon. I was sure of it.

The sapphire dragon snorted smoke, making me jump. An eye rolled my way as if to say, You are ridiculous.

Was I?

The moment we had entered the camp, the air seemed to drop in temperature. Despite the encroaching night, I believed it had to do with the atmosphere of the camp. When men laughed, it was in a drunken state, never sober. Smiles were not truly smiles – they were bent in apathy and rage. Most moped along, grumbling about being taken from homes and wives and families, cursing the rebellion for their troubles. It depressed the sadness I already felt, but I followed Angela without pause, forcing my eyes to not see the half-sleeping solders we passed.

Little smoke drifted from the cook tent – its fabrics matching the brown-black tint of all the rest – and a faint aroma of blandly cooked chicken came as well. In nearing, a man dressed in soiled tunic and loose pants bustled out between the flaps carrying a giant cooking pot. His face told of a tired, resigned soul. He set the pot aside the tent and disappeared back inside.

We were killing so many, and I was not sure how to feel about it. So I felt nothing at all. I erased the cook's face from my memory and clutched tight to the side bag Angela had me carry. We both garbed tonight in black clothing, my face dirtied and hair hidden with blacker cloth to further hide my identity. Angela directed at me with motions to hand her the liquid poison. I found it quickly, and handed it over with pressed lips.

This time only Solembum went with Angela. Pricilla stayed by my, wide yellow eyes glowing in the dark. She touched a paw to my foot and looked up at me. The night is chill, Gwendolyn. Can you feel the burdens of the wind?

I bristled as she spoke. Aye, the cold is cruel.

Her paw lifted and brushed the side of her head in one quick swipe. Pricilla's body shivered and tingled, making the long hairs stick up. It tells to me the frozen air is as unto a fable – for however long it may contain itself, it shall always melt under the heat of the rising sun. And then it shall fade away.

At her words, the very still breeze she spoke of twisted around my body, clinging to my neck and locking my lips sealed. It seemed to reach into my chest and choke my lungs, for I could no longer breathe. Pricilla!

The werecat shook her head in a downcast motion, and the grip of ice and steel fell away. I wish with my heart that would you take head of my warnings. You build up for yourself a mountain of confusion and hide behind it, never willing to bring it down. Your ability to strengthen personal walls is your only trait – as I believe it – to match up with that of Arya and her own.

My breath puffed into a filmy cloud as I attempted to gather my bearings. As such, perhaps I only heard a part or so of what Pricilla thought. Elva had said a similar thing – I remembered – but I was doing better. Much better. Surely the situation was not as it presented itself. After all, Pricilla did have a dislike of me. Her bias muddied the truth.

So I said nothing in reply. Though her words bounced in my memory with clarity, I did not think too much into them. Rather I stared after Angela, waiting for her to return.

Pricilla uttered a squeak – a small gasp if she were a person – and pushed her head against my leg. I frowned at her before looking back and seeing the long stretches of approaching light. And people. Hastily, I fell in between the two tents I stood next to. I intended to fall far back and wait for the soldiers to pass – but then I heard their voices.

Familiar voices.

"Oh! To see the look on their faces!"

It was two men, both equally tall and lanky like branches. One held a lantern inside of which glowed a seemingly stick-less candle. Its strange light lit up the faces of the men, and I sucked in a quick breath when I remembered exactly where I had seen them before….

"What do we have here?" It was a man, though his voice held a high timbre that gave him a feminine appeal.

I looked up to see two tall men towering over me. Their closed-set eyes narrowed into curious slits, as if this put them in a peculiar situation and fettering out a solution became priority. As the moments of stiffness passed, I pinpricked their identical identities and the royal purple they both were garbed in.

The one closest to me shook his head at the soldiers. "And why do you imbeciles seem so incapable of shielding him from a girl."

I rose to my full height – still lacking in inches, perhaps a foot, when standing next to these twins. "Pardon? And what business do you two have with him?"

The other twin offered a softer smirk than his brother. "That is between us and the King, pretty one."

"I am not a 'pretty one'; I am the King's daughter," I snapped. "Tell me what business you have."

The smirks washed off their faces. They came preoccupied trying to keep their mouths closed and fighting the command. It was not until sweat glistened on their shiny heads that one of them blurted, "The King wished us to take him back as punishment for leaving him."

… One glared at me. "What powers do you possess of, Princess? Does the King know how… persuasive you are?"

The twins who had imprisoned Murtagh!

The brother without the lantern snickered. "Nothing would make me happier than to see that stuck up she-elf run through and through with a sword. The way she humiliated us…." He grumbled unintelligibly.

"Dear brother, we shall have our revenge soon." The men grabbed each other's shoulders and nodded in their secret agreement.

I bit my lip, fading farther into the background to avoid being glanced by the lantern light. When they passed the alley front I hid in, the twin closet to me paused. His nose screwed as if smelling a foul scent. His head turned just so towards me, though not quite enough to see me.

"Brother, what is it?" He lifted his lantern higher and its deadly rays stretched longer and thinner. Wicked fingers reaching for me. I held every breath, every blink.

The twin sniffed again, his eyes scrutinizing the air as if it were suddenly dyed pink and dotted with fanciful roses. His tone quite matched the ruining twist of his face. "Not so sure. I… feel something… smell something. It's foul and it isn't right."

Angela's poisons, I thought with a sinking heart. We'd been caught.

But his brother with the lantern shrugged, chuckling a little. "Of course it isn't right. We should be in the palace surrounded by servants and sweet-smelling oils. Not sweaty men who can't tell their lefts from their rights and their expressive body odor."

"Aye, but…."

The brother swung his arm around his family. "You are tired and irritated as I. Let us, dear brother, retire to our cots and regain full rest so that when the battle arrives – and it shall be soon – we have the strength to over power and kill Nasuada and her she-elf."

The skeptical twin's eyes flung my way, and I closed my eyes tight on instinct (as if that would somehow make me more invisible!). I waited for the gasp of surprise and then their discovering of my being here. What would they do to me? Kill me? Take me back to my father?

But there was no such event. The twin sighed and mumbled an agreement, and the last I heard of them was the scuffing of their feet as they walked on. Away from me.

I sighed when I could finally no longer hear their footsteps. My mind reeled with the implications of all I had just heard. Oh! By the heavens! They want to kill Arya! Should I warn her? Should I ignore it? Arya seemed as if she could handle herself. I will have to warn Nasuada, however .We need her. Oh, where is that darned werecat?

The cold night air forgotten, I stepped forward to exit the alley. Blood heated my veins with sudden excitement. The value of this information seemed gargantuan to me!

From the shadows of the dark, an arm whipped from behind and clamped around my mouth. It jerked me back, throwing me off my feet and into the solid chest that slammed against my back. Another arm squeezed my waist, and I gasped into the forearm across my struggling mouth.

A rough, frozen voice bit at my ear, causing shivers to quake throughout my body. The reaction made my captor smile. "Fancy running into you, beautiful, under the lovely night sky." His arm lowered and squeezed my hips.

I felt the point of a sharp nose run through my hair, felt the suck of air as he smelt deeply. "Dark, mysterious… weak… just my type, darlin'." When he ran into the cloth about my head, his throat emitted a guttural rasp. And then his fingers were tugging at the fabric, tearing it easily away. He chuckled low as my hair puffed and fell about my face.

I screamed behind his arm as loud as I could. I tried to form words that would order him away – order him dead. But my lips were firmly sealed. Any noise I made muffled and mashed into meaningless mush.

"Shh, shh," said the man. "We don't want anybody to interrupt us, now do we?"

I full intended to bite him, but the whoosh of a thick object flew faster – hit me up against the side of my head. Black spots bloomed and faded in rapid spurts, and suddenly the pain in my left temple overcame any want to bite or add pressure.

The man chomped hard on my neck, ran his teeth up the column and back down. Finally his arm dropped from my mouth, and I managed a few tiny squeaks for air. But he gave me little time to work up a scream as his hand returned and clutched my neck. His fingers pinched at my vocal chords and my wind pipe. Air vomited from my lungs, and the man threw me to the ground – only to follow quickly after.

No! My mind burst at its top volume. My captor was weighty – though not fat – and pushed his body down to keep me from struggling. It was so dark; my eyes continued seeing Edrolph, remembering the way his fingers wrapped around my throat and lifted my arms up and above my head.

Why did this keep happening? To me? No!

I wriggled and squirmed but my strength fell far too short to compete with this man. I was powerless without my voice, and he had successfully made it near impossible to mumble any coherent word.

The man rubbed my chin with two of his free fingers, his face high above mine. I could barely make out the lines of a satisfied smile and the wide look in his eyes as he took in my fear and resignation.

Angela! Please! I pleaded.

The angry squeal of feline snarls ripped through the heavy fog.

I saw only at first a warped look of confusion in my captor as he glanced off into the distance and perceived something odd. I struggled more, hoping to catch him off guard. But his grip tightened and brought his attentions back to me.

And then, just as he was about to attack with his lips, a graced form of hair hurled into the man. He oofed, his finger hold loosening slightly. He tried to maintain his grip as I took advantage of the distraction, but a wide paw slashed into his face. His howl was great; his hands flung to the wound, and he rolled partly off.

"Demented cat!" My captor growled.

Fast with reflex, he drew at an object at his waist and flung it up in warning to the hissing feline.

Run, get away!

Pricilla!

But my head still swooned, and I nearly fainted at the swung it took when I sat straight up. Cat and human merged into one blurry form like a whirlpool.

Pricilla screeched again as if to take the man's challenge. I thought I saw her swipe a claw at him. The man raged, raising his fist clear into the sky. His object flashed one quick moment against the light of the moon, and slashed downward. And as the shapes righted themselves in my vision, it was too late to save Pricilla from the pointed dagger as it cut into her upper belly.

Her shriek of pain carried louder than my hoarse utterance of "No!"

The man chuckled and threw off the werecat's bleeding body. His eyes turned steel on me, the dagger still grasped tight in his fist. Liquid dripped from its tip. He lunged for me and tackled me back into the ground.

"Angela!" I tried to shout. But my voice faltered.

My captor and I wrestled on the floor. My arms attempted to hold him away, but his empty hand was quickly gaining power over me. The dagger loomed above.

"Stop fighting, weak wench!"

"No!"

His chest fell on mine, knocking out the little air in my lungs. I didn't care though, as I fought to push him off me. Closer the dagger tip came, and soon I was grasping for it as well.

I thought he meant to stab me when his fisted hand fell to my waist, and I felt the cold, wet dagger tip breach my cloak and undergarments, and press against my side. I braced for the puncture, pleading now for a swift death.

My cease of movement encouraged him. The blade slipped up my torso, ripping the seams of my clothes. I began to struggle again for control of the weapon.

"You loose your battle."

"No!"

As the blade reached my under pit, I gained I small advantage. The man lifted just slightly, and I managed to roll awkwardly on my side. Pain reared in my chest and shoulders. My fingers gripped at empty space, squirmed to find purchase. I gritted my teeth and thrust my fingers towards the blade.

Ack! Sharp edges glanced the length of my middle finger, and it twisted in rampant jerks as my captor tried to retain control of his weapon. My heart screamed with life and death tugging at my vision. Memories kept interrupting me, reminding me of things left undone, of the many things I regretted.

Caden.

I would live to see him again.

This would not be the end of me!

With a clenched jaw and angry mutter, I reached for the dagger, ignoring the deep cuts into my hand. My fingers climbed until they reached the hilt. I tilted more onto my side. The man growled and tugged one last heavy pull.

And lost his handling.

It was only a short second. But enough for my to fully grasp the dagger handle and rotate it so it point away from me. Then, using my elevated side and shoulder, I threw myself onto my back again – this time heaving the pointed blade onto my chest.

A flash of fear hit the man's eyes –a fear of surreal understanding. My ears – all my senses – were blocked. Ignored. I went with instinct. I pushed the dagger up into the man's chest, dug through as hard as I could. His jaw dropped in noiseless pain. He froze for a moment, starring up into the night, and then collapsed onto the blade, driving finally into his heart.

My fingers didn't seem to process how covered with slick blood they were until my eyes saw the crimson color themselves. When I finally found the strength to, I heaved the dead weight off my body and rolled away completely from him. And even then, I did not seem to have the time to process what exactly I had done.

A sharp snap of ugly, unique cursing rang out from behind me, and I jumped in fear. Then a firm hand rested on my shoulder and rotated me back. It was Angela, emotions strange and other converged onto her face.

"I….I…" It hurt to breath – let alone speak.

Angela shook her head at me and moved a few feet ahead. She knelt beside the limp, bloody form of Pricilla. She lay in heap beside the tent edge, her small breast rising and falling with each struggling breath. Liquid soaked the earth under and around her.

"We must… we have… must… save…." I coughed a mighty fit.

Solembum leapt to the side of his companion and licked her face. Angela slid out of her cloak, underneath of which was still black garment, bent over to Pricilla, and wrapped her like a babe.

Without looking to me, the herbalist said, "Come. She still lives. But we run out of time. If we are to save her, we must run with quick speed out of this camp. I will run with you till we are a safe distance, at which point I will sprint much faster than you."

I nodded, forcing myself to my feet despite the wave of dizziness.

"I will send Eragon for you, and he shall bring you to my tent. There we shall tend to your wounds as well."

I wheezed as I continued nodding.

Cradling Pricilla to her chest, Angela maneuvered her hand to get into an invisible pocket against her side. She pulled out a small vial and handed it to me.

"Drink it. It will help you run the distance you must."

For once, I did as asked without question. Popping off the vial top, I guzzled the brownish contents with vigor. Zing rushed through my veins, and immediately the sore aches melted away.

Our legs started out hot. Angela did not keep a slow pace, and without her enhancer, I would have stumbled far behind. Perhaps died even. The tents smudged together like an ink blot, and I wondered if any soldiers would notice us. Regardless, it didn't seem to be an issue at the speed we were going. Not even the fridge fingers of ice could slow us.

Eventually, we flowed out into the expanse of the burning plains. It was black except for the weak path of the moon through the smoky haze and the green burst of flames that belched from deep in the ill earth. And as Angela promised, once we were a mile or so from my father's set camp, her running speed increased like that of a loosed arrow. One moment she was knocked, and the next she was slicing through the air with the precision of a fine arrowhead.

Oh, Pricilla, I lamented once I was alone. Angela's enhancer was beginning to wear. I could feel the burn in my throat once more. How I have wronged you!

The tips of the Varden's camp became visible after a half hour or so alone on the Burning Plains. All the while, my imagination let loose. Creatures feigned pouncing on me from every angle. All shadows were a man smirking in the darkness.

Too soon, I felt, I lost all energy. The world spin in five different ways, each unique and with their own levels of pain. The last, however, proved the most excruciating. It gave quite the swinging glance of the red-orange earth as it rose high and punched my head.

As the black arms of the void embraced me, distorted shapes of blue grew larger and larger….

A/N: I know! Cliffy! I'm so bad! I tried not to end it like that, and I originally intended to push it farther, but Gwen passed out on me -_-, poor girl.

If the cliffy truly is killing you, I'll give you a little secret. It is well known to me that reviews (not necessarily straight praise) can sometimes push me to write an entire chapter in a single sitting. That happened with this chapter, actually. And not with a review, but seeing someone recommend this story in theirs. (You have no idea how giddy that made me...)

Emotions? What're you feeling? Are you feelings at all? Or are you all like, "Why am I still reading this story! It's going nowhere! And Caden is gone! (He was the best :-O, how could you!)"

As always, love your thoughts!