Moonlight painted the Spartan camp silver against the white sandy shore.
Within the shadows, amidst the tents, a cloaked figure strolled. Their footsteps were unwavering against the slip of the beach. Their pale hands clutched the hood of their cloak close to their face. Any guards who glanced at said figure saw no more than the symbol of Ares stitched across its back with a mousy priestess underneath and immediately dismissed the devotee in the next breath.
It was not until she reached the tent containing their Trojan prisoner that the guards took pause.
"Undersee has ordered no guests," said one.
The priestess smiled. "I am no guest. I am merely a humble servant of Ares. I have come to look into the eyes of our enemy's consort and through her search for omens to this coming war against the Trojans."
The guards exchanged looks, then one grunted. Everyone knew the priestess was an odd woman, but she was also the sister to Undersee's deceased wife, and could do no harm, so they let her in.
Inside, the two prisoners slept. Maysilee stood and watched them for a long while. Gale was twisted up around his blankets, sleeping fitfully, whereas Katniss had curled up into the fetal position and slept like the dead.
Stepping carefully across the tent, Maysilee crouched beside Gale. He woke instantly, as if he could feel her shadow fall over him. He jerked upwards as though reaching for a sword – then realized he did not have one.
"Peace," Maysilee whispered. "I have not come to harm you."
Still bleary with sleep, the woman's face partially covered by the cloak's hood, Gale narrowed his eyes at the figure and asked, "Madge?" He glanced quickly at Katniss, then the tent's entrance. He sat up further. "You can't be here."
She lowered her hood. She may have had Madge's look, but she was much older.
"Maysilee?" Gale did not know her, truly, but throughout his voyage with the Spartans, Madge had never stopped mentioning her aunt's devotion to Ares.
Maysilee pressed a finger to her lips and reached for the fetters of his chains. With swift, small hands she slipped a key into the lock and they jingled as they slid away from his wrists.
"Will she scream?"
"What?"
"Will she scream?" Maysilee repeated, throwing her chin in Katniss' direction.
Gale frowned, rubbing his wrists and sitting up. "No."
Unlike Gale, Katniss did not wake up the instant Maysilee reached her, nor did she stir when the chains were unlocked and Maysilee pulled them away. She probed the woman, and her eyes lulled, and she muttered in dream, but nothing more.
"She doesn't wake," Maysilee said.
"Try harder," said Gale, standing. "Here, let me."
He crossed the tent and sat heavily on the edge of Katniss' bed, but still, she did not wake. He shook her, pushed the hair from her face, and spoke hissing, low-toned words to her in all manner of urgency.
The most she did was whimper and twist away from him.
"Is she drugged?" murmured Maysilee, rising and picking up the cup next to the bed. It appeared to have water in it.
"I'll carry her," Gale decided and looked at Maysilee with a tight jaw and determined eyes. "I don't know why you're here, or why you're doing it, but thank you. If you get us out of here, I will owe you."
"Not me," Maysilee said, pulling her hood back on. She motioned for Gale to pick Katniss up. "There are horses waiting for us in the south trees.
Gale started to lift Katniss from the bed, when she suddenly jerked awake.
She gasped, grabbing at Gale's shirt. Her eyes reeled, before they landed on Maysilee's hooded figure and the chains sitting unlocked at her side. It took her seconds to comprehend the situation. She pushed herself to her feet, unsteady, but grasped the bed for support.
"What was that?" Gale asked her. "Nightmares that trap you?"
Katniss rubbed at her face, then pulled her hair back and out of her face. "It wasn't a dream."
"A vision?" Maysilee breathed, her tone tight with awe.
"Sort of," Katniss replied.
"From whom?" Maysilee quite forgot the rescue mission. "Ares?"
"Ares?" Katniss echoed, dumbfounded – as if she'd never heard the name before. "No, of course not."
"Athena?"
Katniss' face twisted strangely. "No."
"Who? Apollo? Zeus himself?"
"It was..." Katniss started, then hesitated. "... Poseidon."
Gale felt uneasy. "Poseidon visits your dreams?"
"Not often," said Katniss, rubbing her eyes. "Not a visit, really. It was like a glimpse. Like she – he was trying to contact me but could not. I just saw glimpses of him... of a stormy sea and screaming. So much screaming..." Katniss sighed and shook her head, and then refocused. "Are we leaving?"
"Yes," Maysilee said, staring at Katniss a moment longer, before turning toward the entrance of the tent. "Wait here. I'll take care of the guards. Put these on." Maysilee pulled two more cloak from underneath hers and tossed them at the two. "When we get into camp walk calmly with your heads down."
Two guards were stationed at the edge of the forest to the south of the beach. Katniss, ducking behind one of the tents at the farthermost edge of the Spartan camp tensed, readying to run, but Gale shook his head, then inclined it at Maysilee.
The priestess stepped out of the shadows and pulled an object from her robe – Katniss could not see what it was in the dark – and the priestess placed it at her lips.
The thud of one of the guards' bodies hitting the ground caused Katniss to snap her gaze back around. Moments later, before the second guard could raise a shout, he went stumbling back and to the side, then collapsed, too.
"Alright," came Maysilee's soft voice. "Hurry now."
Stepping over the bodies and into the trees, Katniss murmured, "Are they dead?"
"Sleeping," said Maysilee. She flashed a strange object at Katniss, before stowing it back in her robe. "Darts... if you put the right drugs into them, the right amount, a man can sleep and forget."
"I was wondering how you managed to take care of the guards outside our tent," said Gale.
"Yes," said Maysilee.
"Helpless woman, you are not."
Maysilee grinned. "Aye. Most Spartan women are not."
About forty paces through the trees the snorts and clop of horses could be heard, and the group picked up their pace until they could clearly make out three horses and a small figure holding their halters.
Gale groaned. "I should have known."
Madge, shooting Gale a disgruntle look, smiled at Maysilee and the two women embraced. "Thank you," Madge told her and Maysilee nodded gravely. "Tell him I stole your things."
"I will. He will want you dead for this, you know."
"I know," said Madge, and though she tried to look unaffected, there was a wilting in her eyes.
"Stall that as long as you can."
"I will."
Maysilee nodded, satisfied, and turned back to the two Dorians. "Watch her for me."
Madge made a sound of protest, embarrassed, but Katniss spoke over her, "You need not fear."
"Perhaps not, strange woman," Maysilee said. "I don't approve of Undersee's war, nor the timing, but I love my king. And I believe you want war as little as I do. Do not make me regret helping you escape."
Katniss lowered her head.
Then Gale grabbed at her elbow and urged her toward the horses.
Clove stood at the top of Pen hill, scowling towards the north and rubbing her wrist resentfully.
She could just make out the handful of figures gathered at the north road. Most would have expected her to be standing with them, in order to send off her beloved Trojan prince, but no. Clove stood purposefully away, just so Peeta knew how much she disapproved. Riding north? At a girl-child's claim of enemies gathering there and a Katniss being held prisoner there?
It was petulant of the wife to need rescue, she thought.
How very mortal and pathetic of her...
Peeta had not wanted to hear her argument, of course. No more than last night.
So, Clove stood and watched stone-faced as Peeta and his men cantered off down the road.
For two days we rode at a hard trot.
I had only ever ridden a horse once, when I first arrived in Panem, and even then, I had Cinna's constant encouragements to guide me through the journey. Now, I had only Gale and Madge, and both of them rode unflinchingly. If they were sore for the few hours at night that we dared to rest, they did not show it. Gale always went straight to sleep, grasping what he could, and Madge spent a long while tending to the exhausted horses: feeding, petting, and humming to them; not once wincing.
I suppose I had thought her delicate, but I found out quickly enough that she was better at horse riding than most warriors I had ever seen. She carried a short sword, though in truth it was more of a long knife. I saw her sharpening it the first night we had stopped to rest the horses.
"Preparing," she said. She seemed convinced her father would send soldiers after us and that they would not hesitate to kill her.
"He would have you harmed?" I asked her, wonderingly. Prim's father would not have done so, even if she had betrayed him.
Madge looked at me as if I were somehow mocking her. "If they catch me alive," she said, "then he'd gladly do it himself." She placed her blade against her ribs. "Here, most likely. It is what he does to traitors. Or perhaps he will have my hair sheared, my tongue cut, and he will hang me for show."
"His own daughter?"
"I am his daughter no more." Madge returned to sharpening. "I forsake my heritage doing this."
Gale rolled over to face us from where he pretended to sleep and asked, "Then why do you do it?"
Madge, surprised to know Gale had been listening, bit her lip and shrugged.
After that, she would no longer speak to me about her father. Much like Gale, she swore she would not be giving away any knowledge for the war, but she did hope not to be killed upon entering the Trojan's midst. I told her, and Gale, that I would not let them be harmed once we were there.
They did not seem to take my words as true, but still, even without knowing their fate, they rode south with me.
I suppose it was just fear of Undersee and of the Spartans that kept them going.
So, we continued.
After that first night of rest, we could hear distant sounds of men.
To deter our tail, we rode west for a few hours. Neither Madge nor Gale knew the way, but I did, somewhat, and I knew if we rode far enough toward a point just to the side of the rising sun, we'd reach the north road. It would be a straight shot from there. The only problem was that I was the inept rider of us three and I was the one in the lead.
Twice we had to circle back when we came across marsh lands too overcome with swampy waters. Madge's horse kept trying to out-stride mine and it made my mount nervous... and when it happened, I did not know what to do to calm him. Usually, we'd be forced to stop so Madge could deal with it for me.
"Stupid beasts," I muttered on the third occurrence, watching Madge go about rubbing its sides.
"They're actually pretty smart," said Gale. "Smarter than oxen."
"I like oxen. They're slow and steady. Horses are so..."
"Too fast?" he teased, like old times. Then he ruined it: "Shall I get a carriage for Her Majesty?"
"Restless," I finished for myself, throwing him a look.
He raised his hands in false surrender.
I made a point of riding faster and harder after that.
Just before sunset on our second day, Gale's horse threw a shoe. There was nothing to be done about it, of course, but we did rest as Madge soothed the beast and checked its hooves for any other damage.
From there our trot slowed, which my groaning and aching body was grateful for, but I disliked our slow progression.
Late on the third night, half-way through Gale's lookout hour, he shook us both awake.
Panic was the first thing I felt, reaching blindly for Peeta's arm beside me – before I remembered he was not there, and a wave of disappointment hit me so hard in the chest I was knocked breathless.
Madge felt her own kind of panic. "Is he here? Have they found us?" she asked, swiveling about.
Gale put a hand on her arm. She nearly jumped out of her skin at his touch, though he would never have noticed that in a hundred years. He pointed over the line of the trees to the west.
"See?" he said. "There's smoke." He looked to me. "Trojans?"
"No," I said, standing to get a better look. There were at least twenty lines of rising smoke, indicating a formidable group. "We're not south enough for there to be any sign of Panbank yet."
"Tribes?"
"Maybe."
"Then we shouldn't head west anymore then we have already. I'd rather risk seeing Spartans," Gale said. "We head out at first light."
Neither of us argued with him.