Night had fallen by the time Murtagh finished healing her. Hal stared up at the sky the entire time, having realized only as she gazed upon it that she had truly thought she would never see it again. Occasionally her eyes flickered down to the rider, watching him as he worked, even though she could tell her gaze unnerved him. But she only did so as to remind herself who was touching her. To remind herself that she was safe.

The men allowed Murtagh to order them around, fetching water, bandages, and herbs for her, hunting food for them. The commotion, the noise of it, kept her attention for the most part. Occasionally they would shoot her strangled smiles, but it did not reach their eyes. And soon, Hal returned to gazing at the sky, unable to bear the pained expressions.

Murtagh, to his credit, was a better healer than she would have guessed. He was surprisingly gentle and empathetic, and she recalled, once again, the horrid scars on his torso. He worked slowly, healing what he could of the injuries without completely exhausting his and Thorn's energy. His voice was low as he called on his magic, and Hal sometimes would close her eyes, listening. She let the low tones soothe her, like a lullaby, along with the cackling fire and low whispers of the others. She could hear Thorn's heavy breaths, the birds overhead, or the insects buzzing. She cherished these sounds. If Murtagh was wondering why she was crying, he did not ask.

Her arm and hands took more time than she would have anticipated, and she gritted her teeth, shaking in pain as the bones were worked back into place, most of which Murtagh had to do himself instead of with magic. There was some scaring, she could see, from where he could not use too much magic to heal the full extent of her injuries. She told herself she didn't mind, so long as she could draw her bow and sketch and do all the things she enjoyed doing. And yet…she didn't want the reminder. To look down her hand and always see the Ra'zac breaking it.

When Murtagh finally reached her back, Hal spoke at last, her voice low so that only he could hear. "Not in front of them."

He looked at her, grey eyes furrowed at the sudden request. But he slowly nodded. He sat her up slowly, Hal wincing at her still bruised stomach that wasn't threatening enough to be of much concern. She could see Murtagh take a deep breath before lifting her, and it was only then that she realized the toll this must be taking on him. She almost told him to stop, to get rest and tend to his own needs, but he must've seen it in her eyes, because he quickly steeled his, looking away before she could speak.

"What do you think you're doing?" Sam asked, jumping to his feet.

"Her remaining injuries require privacy. She asked for it; I will do as she requests."

Sam stumbled at that, looking at Hal who only gave him a slow nod, barely able to meet his gaze. Murtagh's blanket was still wrapped around her. He had laid it over her hips without a word, but she had nearly cried when she realized what he had done. Covering her shame so that none of the others would have to see. No one stopped them as Murtagh carried her away from the where they had set up camp.

"Thank you," she said in a low voice as he set her down, out of earshot and sight of the others.

"Of course."

Hal's tunic was in ruin. Because of the poison, Murtagh quietly told her it would need to be discarded. She did not blink, nodding slowly as she began to pull off what remained of the material. Murtagh helped as best he could, keeping his eyes on hers so as to let her know he would not try or do anything that would make her uncomfortable. And she had no doubt in her mind that he wouldn't. She lifted his blanket to cover her chest.

However, when he reached her back, his sharp inhale didn't surprise her. And not, she knew, from the effects of the poison.

"The others do not know," she said in a low voice.

"How? When?"

"I do not wish to speak of 'how' but I was ten when it happened."

He must've found a stretch of skin that had not been marred by poison, because he ran his fingers down one of the thin, ropelike scars on her back. Hal shuddered at the touch, shirking away from him in surprise.

"I'm sorry, that was inappropriate," he said in a harried voice.

"I just didn't expect it."

But he only touched her afterwards to heal the burns. It was a long process due to the sheer nature of the poison, carefully extracting it from her system along with healing the open sores and repairing the damaged skin. Murtagh had to work much slower, and Hal worried it would push him too far. She kept her arms across her chest, marveling at his touch. Grateful to it, after such harsh treatment.

When he was finally finished, there was a stifling silence. She could hear the fire from the others, smell the food they had begun to cook. Her stomach growled viciously and she flinched, curling up slightly against the pain.

"We should get you something to eat," Murtagh said in a low voice, his eyes drooping and red from exhaustion.

Hal shook her head. "I wish to bathe first."

He blinked, as if only then realizing she was covered in filth. Blood, hers and the Raz'ac's, as well as urine. She did not want to be around the others like this. But more importantly, she could not bear it herself any longer.

Murtagh retrieved her bag from Nani, following her silently as she stumbled in the darkness, unsure of herself and her surroundings. She was startled by a squirrel, stepping back into the rider as it jumped out at her. He placed his hand on the small of her back. "Don't worry, Halen, I've got you."

She swallowed, nodding nervously. She didn't trust herself to speak just yet. If she did, she feared she may weep and never stop.

Murtagh kept his back to her as she removed her boots and pants, but she was grateful that he remained close without her having to ask it of him. The water was still warm from the heat of the day, and Hal wadded in to her waist before she ducked her head under.

Despite her hunger, she took her time. Not only was her body still horribly sore from the bruising that remained, but she was not eager to join the others. To face them and their silence. She washed the blood and grime off her skin and hair, feeling somewhat more…just more, now that she was clean. When she was finally ready to get out, Murtagh was already holding her blanket up, hiding his face so she would have privacy as she stepped out.

When she was completely wrapped up, they finally looked at each other. They had been avoiding each other's gaze for the most part — or rather he had been avoiding hers — but it was impossible to do so now.

"You came for me," Hal whispered, her voice still weak and rough, shaking with emotion.

"I would not leave you in the hands of such demons," he said in a low voice.

But she shook her head. "No, I mean when I…" She couldn't say it. Couldn't possibly put into words what it had felt like, feeling her own life slipping away. She swallowed. "I felt you. I heard you. In my head. You came for me. Why?"

His eyes were wide with surprise, as if he hadn't truly expected it. "You heard me?"

"You told me to come to you. But it was more than that. I could feel your emotions as if they were mine. Your fear, your anger, your misery. It felt so familiar, so much like my own…" Her voice trailed off.

His gaze was…she couldn't describe it, but it made her nervous. Perhaps she sounded crazy. Perhaps she was making all of it up, projecting some strange fantasy onto him.

"I didn't know if it would work," he admitted. "I was so desperate to try anything. To keep you from truly fading." He sighed and she waited patiently, eager to hear it from his perspective. "I could not save you from the Ra'zac. And for what you endured, Halen, I am truly sorry. But I was willing to try almost anything to spare your life. And you deserve it more than anyone I know."

His words meant much to her, even if she had a hard time loosening her tongue long enough to tell him. He raised a hand, as if to set in on top of her head or to touch her in some way, to provide comfort. But he seemed to think better of it and began to lower it. But Hal stopped him, noticing what he had not.

"You're shaking." She held his hand in hers, observing the slight tremors in his hands. She knew it. It was all too much. He had gotten little to no rest, and his body still likely had not healed from the damage the Nïdhwal had caused, and the process of regaining his strength was sure to be a longer one now because he had focused more on her needs than his own.

"I'm fine," he said tightly, withdrawing his hand. "Don't worry about me. Come on, let's get you something to eat."

She hesitated, dreading the idea of facing the others. Murtagh watched her carefully, waiting. "They won't ever look at me the same," she explained. "I can't blame them, of course. But I can't — I don't want to face it. Face them. Not yet."

He frowned. "Do you wish to be alone?"

No. "Yes."

He nodded that he understood. But just as he turned to leave, he looked back at her once more. "I know there are no words of comfort you want to hear right now," he offered, his eyes laced with empathy. "And I will not tell them to you unless you want me to. But I will say this: I have not…there are more times than I care to admit where I have not been able to save someone. Either from myself or from the cursed life fate has given me. But I am glad, Halen, that you were an exception."

She wanted to thank him properly. But she couldn't force the words out and she felt like she was wound too tight, retreating deep within herself to avoid letting her emotions spill out in front of Murtagh. So she nodded to show that she had heard him, but didn't dare look at him. She almost called out to him as he turned back towards the camp, but she couldn't find her voice, and the tears burned her eyes, shaming her back into silence.

Hal collapsed on the grassy bank, holding the blanket tighter around her frame. Then she covered her mouth with her hand, burying her face in her lap to muffle her sobs as she cried.

…

The journey back to the village was perhaps one of the longest in Hal's life. Conversation was essentially nonexistent, the men not knowing whether to coddle her or keep their distance. Talk about nothing or talk about what happened. But Hal didn't feel like talking. She was constantly falling asleep in her saddle, jerking herself awake. She knew better than to sleep. Knew what nightmares waited for her if she closed her eyes for too long. She was becoming short and irritable when she opened her mouth, and she was tired of watching her ill mood demolish any joy the men had of going home. She would not ruin this for them. So, she didn't speak.

The rider, thankfully, was out of earshot and out of sight during most of these instances. He rode on Thorn during the day, camping out with the others at night. Hal noticed that Amon, Sam, Ayo, and Cado held him with much higher regard compared to before, their tones polite, even friendly, when they addressed him. However, the rider seemed to be a man of few words now, and would only smile and nod vaguely. Instead, it would seem he spent most of his time watching her. She could feel his eyes on her, especially if someone commented how she hadn't touched her food or didn't seem to be sleeping.

She had to wonder if he was sizing her up. She knew he had seen it — what she had done to the Ra'zac. She had not felt a drop of that magic since, but she knew it was there. She had hoped, perhaps, that it was a fluke. A mistake. But the rider didn't bring it up, and she certainly wasn't going to push. And yet she wanted to ask, because it scared her, this magic. The Ra'zac had suspected her because of her smell — did anyone or anything else know? She shivered at the thought.

With less than a day's ride left before they reached the village, there was an air of eagerness as they settled down for the night. Hal was not asked to help put together the evening meal, and she didn't offer her assistance. Instead, she sat there, wrapped in her blanket despite the warm temperatures. She stared at the flames, her mind drifting to another time. Another place. Another fire. Memories had begun to resurface the last few days, ones she had been desperate to suppress. She used to have nightmares of a world on fire, of blood and burning flesh. Past and present were merging, inescapable. And she was powerless against them both.

Powerless.

Something in her shattered at the word. This profound weakness that she had spent a decade trying to overcome. She had put everything that she was into being the woman she became. And just like that, in a few hours, it had been destroyed. And tomorrow, she would have to figure out how to face the rest of the village. Lie to their faces, because she knew no one here would speak of what they had faced. But what Hal herself had endured down in the cave? That was for her and her alone. And that loneliness became so overwhelming that she had to grit her teeth tightly to keep the sobs from escaping.

She dug her nails in her to palms, squeezing, desperate to block the tears. She would not cry. She would not cry. She flinched, feeling her nails break the skin. Her hands were shaking. Soon, however, the urge to cry began to wane, and Hal finally opened her eyes, feeling even more exhausted than she had before. But she didn't care. She was angry and scared and hurt, and the memories that plagued her were constant. There was no peace to be found. No strength. There was only fire or darkness.

…

Murtagh poked sullenly at the fire with a narrow stick he had found, listening to how the flames cackled at being jostled so vehemently. He had agreed to take first watch again, allowing the others time to settle down and rest. Amon had even convinced Halen to take a few bites of food before she agreed to lie down for a little bit. It hadn't escaped anyone's notice that the bags under her eyes were growing darker, her eyes bloodshot and weary, yet they were still surprised by her sullen compliance.

He had so many questions, so many things that didn't make sense. Although he doubted Halen would be able to clarify any of it. He didn't know what to make of any of it: the Ra'zac and Halen's magic. The two must be connected — the Ra'zac had seemed almost joyful, even in its final moments, to have found her. But now that the Ra'zac were dead, what next? Did anyone else know or had they bought themselves time to figure out what to do next?

Does this mean you intend for us to stay?

Murtagh sighed. I don't know. We've done what we've set out to do. I have no doubt that Halen is the child in danger Eragon was dreaming of. As to the age difference, I don't know. But we saved her life, what more is left for us?

We should ask Eragon, as soon as we are able. Just to be sure.

Murtagh grumbled under his breath. I do not wish to stay much longer, Thorn. I wish to rest and regain my strength properly.

As you should. But do you truly believe this is over? After the magic we felt in the young maiden, is it right to abandon her fate to chance?

By that logic, we would be forced to stay here forever!

Thorn huffed, but didn't disagree. I suppose we have few options in the matter.

Which is why I'd rather hand things off to Eragon now. Before they become even more complicated and muddied.

Complicated how?

Just…complicated. He glanced over the fire at Halen, shielding these particular thoughts from Thorn like he always did, mulling them over on his own. He had not told anyone about the scars on her back, not even Thorn knew. It had been hard to see in the dark, but it had appeared to be four or five scars, practically the same size, shape, and color. She had been whipped. He couldn't figure out why. No one in the village seemed capable — not to mention it didn't seem to be a common practice.

But it wasn't just about her scars, especially since they had nothing to do with the matter at hand. It was about her magic too. It wasn't uncommon for strenuous situations to trigger someone's magical ability — it was a common tactic used against young riders, he had learned, to be given complicated tasks for this very purpose. But in none of his readings did he recall anyone's magic causing the ground to shake or creatures to implode. It didn't make sense, and he had to admit that he was a little bit curious. More than a little bit, actually.

He felt Thorn nudge his mind, drawing his attention. Murtagh looked up, blinking in surprise to find Halen sitting up, looking like she didn't know whether she was going to be sick or if she needed to cry. He knew he had done all he could for her. Knew that. And yet, looking at the distraught expression on her face, he felt racked with guilt. He had seen such fire in her. Such life. And she had a long road ahead of her if she wished to regain that semblance of her life back.

He was careful not to move, not wanting to startle her. She wiped her tear-stained cheeks, looking exhausted, before she finally noticed him. It was more of a struggle than he anticipated not looking away from her gaze, feeling a mix of unsettling emotions.

You came for me.

He swallowed, nervous. It was another reason he was all too happy to fly on Thorn, keeping his distance. He felt like he had intruded more than enough on her privacy. Even though he hadn't seen anything, the fact remained that he had been in her head, and she knew. She hadn't seemed angry, still didn't. But that knowledge hung between them, along with a few other things. Secrets, he realized. They had secrets that they were keeping from others. And that made him uneasy. Not because he felt any obligation to expose her or what she had been through. No, he wouldn't do that to her. But he knew the weight of exposing a secret to just one person, the quiet bond it could create. Perhaps he was over-thinking it, but with everything going on, it was hard not to.

But worse than that was his desire to go into her mind again. He wouldn't dare unless absolutely necessary. Despite the stillness, despite the silence, that small thread of life that she had clung to had drawn him in. When he beheld it, there was a fight there, a desperation, like she had been hanging on too. Not only did that give him hope for her future, but it made him want to know more. Only someone of strong mind, body, and soul could endure what she had and continue to fight until the very end.

Only then did he realize that he was still staring, but she was too. Observing him silently in the way that only Halen could. He hesitated only for a moment before rising to his feet, moving to sit by her side. He moved carefully, not wanting to wake the others who were snoring peacefully. Halen didn't protest as he sat down, wrapping her blanket tighter around her shoulders.

For a while, they didn't say anything. Murtagh sat there with his legs crossed, Halen hugging hers to her chest. She looked like she wanted to say something, but seemed unsure of herself. He watched her out of the corner of his eye, noting all the tells of her nervousness. How stiff she was beside him.

He leaned closer, only a bit, so that he would not have to talk as loud as he said, "Question for a question?"

She seemed almost relieved to hear him speak, and nodded quietly.

"How are you healing?"

Probably not the question she had suspected, by the ways her brows furrowed in confusion. She licked her lips slowly, trying to determine if this was a trick. Finding none, she took a slow breath. "Well enough," she said, her voice soft. "The riding doesn't help with the bruising though."

He nodded slowly, suspecting as much. "I'm sorry I could not do more —"

"Don't," she interrupted quickly, turning to look at him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. Not after what you did for me."

He only nodded, not wanting to belabor the point when he knew there were other things on her mind. She must've sensed it to, because she took another deep breath. "What will you do now?"

He blinked. "What do you mean?"

"You don't intend to stay, do you? So, what will you do next? Anywhere you'd like to go where perhaps there is less madness to be had?"

She struggled to smile and it didn't quite reach her eyes. But the effort to jest was still there, and his heart softened in amazement. He smiled. "Perhaps east," he admitted. "Just past the border lines of the kingdom, so Thorn and I don't have to look over our shoulders any longer."

"Have you ever been east before?"

"I've never been further than parts of the Beor Mountains."

She sucked in her breath. "You've seen the mountains? What are they like?"

Despite how much time had passed since he last saw them, the memory of it was still vivid. The mountains were not something so easily forgotten. She listened with rapt attention, the smallest semblance of awe on her face. When he was finished, he gave her a cheeky grin. "If I'm not mistaken, I believe that was…" He counted on his hand… "Three questions."

"Those don't count."

"They were still questions."

"You can't spring the Beor Mountains on an island girl and not expect immediate follow-up. That's entrapment."

He held up his hands as though in surrender. "I didn't make the rules."

Something in her eyes danced in the firelight, but she shook her head, her lips tugging into a barely-there smile, but a smile all the same. "Fine then, rider, do your worst."

His smile faded, his expression becoming more serious. "Did the Ra'zac say anything to you?"

As he expected, her face darkened, her eyes pained. He hated it, hated to ask it of her so soon. But he needed to know, and he couldn't risk avoiding it for her own well-being. Not when she held potentially vital information.

Halen swallowed, looking ill. "It said it needed to be sure. Before alerting its master. It kept saying that I smelled like them, so that's why it was so sure that I could…"

She blinked quickly. Hating himself, Murtagh pressed forward, "Have you ever used magic before?"

A tear rolled down her cheek, but her voice was tight, guarded. "Once."

Murtagh, perhaps you should stop — Thorn began.

"What happened?" he pressed.

"Nothing you need to worry about."

"Halen, this is important."

"I don't want to talk about it," she hissed.

"Halen if these incidents are connected, I need to know."

"So that you can do what, exactly? You just said you wanted to leave, so why does it matter?"

Her tone and eyes were challenging, defensive. And Murtagh knew then that he was prying into details she would not so readily hand out simply because he asked. Halen turned her head away from him, coiled tight like a snake. She tried to wipe her eyes inconspicuously on her sleeve, but he was watching her too carefully to miss it.

"I'm not trying to be an ass," he said in a low voice. "I'm just trying to make sense of why this is happening. So that I can make sure it doesn't happen again."

She looked at him, eyes brimming with tears. "How? How can you be sure?"

"I can't be unless you tell me what I need to know," he explained, keeping his voice level. "You don't have to tell me everything, but you've got to give me something."

"I don't have to do anything," she corrected sharply. "And I can't give you that. I don't want to talk about it."

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?"

She glowered at him. "So much for not trying to be an ass, you ass."

She turned over, lying down with her back to him, sufficiently shutting him down. Murtagh stared in stunned silence. When he realized that she was effectively ignoring him, he climbed slowly to his feet and returned to his spot by Thorn.

I tried to tell you to stop, the dragon said, clearly miffed with him as well.

Yeah? Well I didn't listen, so congratulations, you were right. Are you happy?

Are you?

The inflection in his tone made Murtagh turn his head. Halen was curled up tightly, her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Murtagh swallowed, guilt enflaming in his chest. I wasn't trying to upset her. I'm trying to help.

I know, young one. I do. And perhaps, on some level, Halen does too. But it's only been a few days since the Ra'zac tortured her. We cannot push her, especially being strangers ourselves.

Murtagh sat in silence, mulling over their options. What am I meant to do if she won't tell me anything?

Be patient. A little empathy wouldn't hurt.

I am being empathetic!

Well perhaps you could show instead of tell. Because it's not me you have to convince.

…

Hal's lids were swollen when she got up the next morning. It was already light out, meaning the others had slept in a little. Probably because they were planning on drinking themselves stupid when they got home — not that she could fault them. Hal sat up, her back to the group who grunted their morning greetings to each other, breakfast already cooking over the flames. She could feel eyes on her as she sat there in silence, adamantly avoiding conversation.

She was steeling herself. Mentally and emotionally preparing herself for the moment they crossed into the village. There would be tears, there would be shouts of surprise and joy. And there would questions. She knew none of the men were thinking about what to tell the villagers, but she had her responses carefully crafted. She just had to get through the reunion, and then she could be alone.

She gave the rider a cold shoulder of his own, hardly looking at him through breakfast. As she mounted Nani for the final stretch home, she felt the faintest touch of relief that he would be leaving. She was grateful for all he had done for her, make no mistake. But he was too sharp, and she could not have anyone, especially a stranger, asking her about her past.

At least that was what she tried to tell herself.

He and Thorn took to the skies like always as the rest of them headed off on horseback. Nani easily maintained a steady head start over the others, riding as if she sensed Hal's desire to get the men back to the village. That was what she had set out to do, regardless of what had happened to her. Also, it was easier to hide her face as long as she was up front.

Coming in from the north meant they came in on the edge of the fields, cultivated lands that took much of the village to care for. Which meant that damn near everyone knew at once they were back. Hal began to slow, hesitating, but the others surged forward. People began to point and shout, waving and cheering.

She breathed, clutching her reigns tightly, feeling the scars on her hand stretch as her grip shifted. She would not be able to explain such injuries, and she could only hide them for so long. She would have to come up with lie after lie after lie.

But first, she had to endure the reunions.

She breathed, praying for strength. Using the last few moments of peace to squash her hate and anger and fear and pain. And as they rode into the heart of the village itself, coming to a stop, she plastered a big smile on her face as they were besieged by the villagers, awe-struck, some crying.

There were hands on her immediately, reaching out to hold her, pat her on the back. Murtagh and Thorn landed to the surprise of practically everyone, and Amon shouted over the noise that he had assisted Hal in their rescue. Nice and simple.

And then Hal saw them.

The children all came running first, looks of uncertainty becoming faces of delight, pain shifting to tears of relief the moment they laid eyes on the fathers returning home. Amon, Cado, Ayo, and Sam quickly broke away from the group, their facades finally cleaving in two as they ran to their families. The group parted for them, watching the reunions in happiness. The wives were close behind, and Hal struggled to swallow the rock in her throat as they received long, hard kisses of affection. Eli and his wife, Ophelia, their child once again strapped to her back, were also there, and Eli received playful kisses of his own from his friends.

She breathed.

She had done what she set out to do. She had made sure these men made it home. And though her heart was heavy with her own grief, she was truly happy for them. Happy that this nightmare could be over for them. That these families would not yet know the sting of loss. She would take her pain and she would continue to bury it, for this. To make sure no family in her village had to wonder if they would ever see their loved ones again.

But it wasn't until she saw her own family that she felt home. Denu walked carefully, the walking stick she had made him his guide, although sometimes she felt it was more for show than necessity. Mennes was beside him, both men wearing smiles of relief. Hal kept herself hidden for just a moment in the crowd. If she went to him too soon, the careful resolve she had been building would collapse. Above anyone else, she could not let him see her like that. All he had done for her, undone. But she would not put him through that again, her suffering.

She breathed.

Then she pulled Nani towards them, out of the crowd. Denu's robes were simple and white, almost glowing in the high sun. Like a beacon, calling her to him. Calling her home. He seemed to sense her before Mennes put a knowing hand on his shoulder. But she was already there, sliding her arms around his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. His hands on her back felt safe and reassuring.

"My brave, sweet girl," he whispered, his voice breaking. "Welcome home."

…

As the reunions began to calm, the questions began to filter in one after the other. Murtagh watched from the side, keeping a careful distance. He had no idea what they would say to appease the villagers, if they would tell the truth. He could see it in the men's faces that they had no idea either, and they looked torn on whether or not they should speak. If they would even be believed.

"The situation, we believe, is under control." Eyes turned towards Halen, who spoke loudly and clearly to be heard over the chatter. Murtagh watched her carefully. "As predicted, the lovuk had become increasingly aggressive. But thanks to the work of the men, we may have found why."

"Why?"

Halen shot the speaker a playful look of annoyance. "I'm getting to that Chi, stop being so impatient."

Laughter from the group. Murtagh had to refrain from blinking, because otherwise he would think this was a completely different person than the one who had emerged from the cave. She was almost like her normal self. Yet, if he didn't pay attention to the emptiness in her eyes, filled with nothing more than false pretenses, he would be fooled like everyone else.

"Part of their food supply was compromised. We're not sure how that happened, but the lovuk were rabid because of it. The increased aggression was what was making them so confrontational. We got rid of all contaminated food we could find, but it may take some time before we know if it worked or not. Keep to your usual routines, travel in pairs. Hunt within the village parameters. And please let me or a village elder know immediately if you see anything unusual."

Heads were nodding, the lie falling smoothly from her lips. She spoke confidently, but was reassuring all the same. "Did you fight off the lovuk to save my papa?"

Murtagh recognized the little girl from the window, the one who had mimicked Halen's mannerisms almost exactly. Amon was holding her and one other child in his arms, another girl. But Layla wiggled herself free so that she could run to Halen, who picked her up and planted her on her hip.

"I sure did. And I won."

"You always win, Hal."

Even Murtagh could see how strained her smile became at that.

It wasn't until Denu stepped in, insisting everyone needed rest, that people began to return to their work. There was a call for a celebration which received a round of cheers and applause. As the crowd dispersed, even Murtagh noticed how the smiles on the men and Halen began to fade as they all struggled to save face. It was painful to watch.

"I'll return the horses to the stables," Halen volunteered suddenly, setting Layla down, who protested sharply.

"We can get it, Hal," Sam offered, his brows furrowed with concern as she grabbed for the reigns in his hand.

"No. Spend time with your families, rest, eat, drink, be merry. Besides, you know I am not one for idleness. I will find something to occupy myself at any moment, so I may as well start with this."

She made a point not to look Murtagh's way as she left, the horses in tow. Murtagh's gaze never strayed, however, taking in her stiff shoulders and harried walk. He laid a hand on Thorn's side, asking for a moment, before following after her.

He kept his distance, unsure of what he was doing or expected to happen. He was rather surprised no one stopped him, but he wasn't going to stick around long enough to give anyone a chance either.

Up ahead he saw Halen disappear into the stables, and he hesitated. She was clearly still mad at him, and he knew that now wasn't the best time to intrude on her privacy, all things considering. Then he heard a crash from inside the stables and the horses skittering nervously. He swore, rushing forward, recalling those painful seconds when she had been taken the first time and fearing the worst.

But when he threw open the stable doors, he found nothing but a rolling bucket that had been filled with water, judging by the spilled contents on the ground and on Halen's boots and legs. She had braced herself on the door of one of the stalls, the horse inside gazing at her as if she were mad.

"Can I help you?" she asked, her voice clipped.

Murtagh bit back a sharp retort, reminding himself that despite his transgressions towards her, her emotions were valid. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay," he said truthfully.

"I'm fine."

"Perhaps it seems that way to the other villagers — that was an impressive performance, by the way. You almost had me convinced. But you're not 'fine,' Halen."

"Don't tell me what I feel."

"I'm just pointing out what I see." She didn't respond, facing away from him as her hold on the wood tightened, her fingertips turning white at the pressure. "You don't have to talk to me," he continued slowly, trying to choose his words carefully. "Just talk to someone."

She scoffed. "There's nothing to say. The men have endured enough —"

"Compared to you, they've endured nothing."

"It's not a pissing contest, rider!" she snapped. "To think, even for a moment, you may never see those you love again, for some, is a pain worse than death."

He breathed, feeling like a fool for not knowing what to say. "Halen —"

"You have already done more than enough," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And I will never, never forget this chance that you have given me, nor will I waste it. But you need not worry about me any longer. I'll be fine."

Murtagh watched her as she turned her back to him, making sure the horses were taken care of and taking extra care not to look at him. Finally, he turned around and left, much to Thorn's surprise. You're just going to leave it like that?!

She doesn't want to talk, I won't force her too. Besides, she clearly doesn't feel comfortable with me, I will not push myself on her if that's not what she wants.

He could feel Thorn shaking his head. She is too much like you. She will not talk to anyone. She will lock her emotions inside herself until they drive her mad. And this still leaves us with very little information surrounding her magic. We cannot forget that.

I haven't forgotten it Thorn, but she won't say. She shut me down last night when I tried to ask. She'd probably chuck the next bucket at my head if I tried again.

We should tell Eragon what we have discovered, at least. Perhaps he may have some ideas.

Perhaps. But I won't.

What?!

I do not want Halen or this village involved in anything else. The Ra'zac was more than enough, I'm sure, to last them a lifetime. Eragon may insist we do something I am not willing to do, or he may tell Nasuada. We came out here, we found the Ra'zac and made sure they were stopped before they could harm anyone else.

We found two Ra'zac. What if there are more? Who are they serving that they kept referring to, that made those wards so intricately that even our magic barely worked? You know in your heart, as I do mine, that this is far from over. You felt the woman's magic. It is not what we have come to understand magic to be. Galbatorix didn't radiate power like that. And she is untrained and unaware of what she possesses.

Murtagh already knew the answer to his next question, but found himself asking anyway. What exactly are you suggesting?

That we stay. Just for a little while longer. And I already have an idea on how to convince them to let us.