Hey again!! Next chapter, loooooooooonger: ). Heh. I took the hint. Tell me if it's still too short.

Wizard116: If you'd like to see what she does after her transformation, it's in 'An Unseen

Shadow'. She's cool there.: ) hint hint

Tessabe: He is magic, but you know how mages can alter their appearances? He altered

his color. Nothing else, though. He never looked like a Companion.

Dolphingirl32173 : YAAAY !!! I was walking on air for two whole days !!: ) !! Oh and

the funny e? I dunno, really- my computer does it if I press ' and e.

Dilemma: Thank you, thank you, I will continue on. Even if I didn't want to (not that i

don't!) I think I'd have to out of obligation. : )

Jezebel: : ). . . i can get high on these reviews. . . hehe. . .

Moondance K'Treva: Yay ! New reader! Hmm. . . I don't think it's really safe to hunt in

that forest. There are wyrsa and colddrakes and other things that Daëmor can connect with. I think Maie'd get killed on her first trip out. : ). And then me have no more story left to write : ). But more and more things will come to her from the forest. But self sufficiency is an idea. . . much more plausible since no one's really supposed to see her unless they're gonna die anyhow. . .hmmm. . . thanks and okay, longer chapters!! : )

Anyhow, story time! Read, enjoy, and once again pleeeaaaaaaaase review!!!!!

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It was early dawn. Maie didn't need to struggle out of bed; she had trouble sleeping these days, and was never very tired. There was too much to think about to have time to be tired.

She sorted through her mind for the day's lesson. Daëmor was going to have her try her newly learned skills in real combat, probably one of his illusions. She had learned much about shielding, as well as fundamental attacking magic. Swordplay and archery were simple and quick to learn, once the companion had given her the right feel. In two weeks she had learned more than most in two years.

Strapping on her sword, a practice she had quickly gotten used to, and pulling her longish hair into a severe knot, did not take much concentration, and just as well, for Maie had too much on her mind to be able to give either very much attention. For example, the secret stranger in her waystation.

Most of the day was dedicated to learning, and although she still made her and Daëmor their meals, the rest of the chores were mysteriously accounted for. It was. . . disconcerting. . . on that first day Maie had trudged into the waystation to find her bed made and her floor swept. But somehow, between the time she left the waystation and the time she got back, someone-or maybe even something-saw to her home. She'd initially felt guilty about having some sort of unpaid, unfed. . . slave, but maybe it was something of Daëmor's, a magically created beast. The companion wasn't saying-or mindspeaking- anything.

Maie shrugged as she strode towards the stables. The companion wasn't in, but she prepared his feed anyway. He never said much, anyway, so the fact that he wasn't telling her about the mysterious housekeeper didn't necessarily mean anything was. . . amiss. And even if Daëmor didn't care too much about morals, and a companion would never do anything completely evil.

And that, she thought, as she threw feed and hay in for the companion, was that. There was nothing to be worried about. . .

. . .Except for the low, inhuman snarl just behind her.

She froze, still crouched in the stable with Daëmor's feed. Another snarl, this time from another direction, told her there was more than one.

Probably a pack of them, from somewhere in the forest. The deepness of the growl spoke of an animal of medium height, and silent footsteps told her of its agility.

Slowly, cautiously, her sword hand strayed from the feed bucket, grasping her sword as she heard a third snarl rumbling to her right.

She was surrounded.

But I'm in between the stable doors. So if I get behind it, only one can attack me at a time. That'll give me a little more of a chance. . .

Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the hilt of her sword, slowly, quietly unsheathing it. Maybe they wouldn't notice if she took her weapon out slowly.

Fat chance.

A light leap of paws made Maie swerve around, sword drawn and ready just in time to stop the creature's attack. It snarled, hissed, and recoiled reluctantly, staying its attack to bound lightly away, so revealing the rest of its pack.

Wyrsa.

Shit.

Maie leaped back as one of them lunged for her, then thrust her sword towards it in a single, expert sweep, letting the feeling of rightness Daëmor had drilled into her engulf and control her movements. The wyrsa dodged nimbly, but she drove forwards, slashing at its unprotected neck, hitting its back as it dodged not quite quickly enough. Blood sprayed and confirmed that the situation was completely, and terrifyingly, real.

Quickly, Maie flung herself clear of the down wyrsa, heading for the next attacker. It struck. She parried. It dodged. She lunged. Grimly, she held her ground until she managed the fatal blow that rendered it useless and so meaningless to her.

Another one, smaller but faster, with a darker blue shade and a mean glint in its eyes. Maie gave a little snarl of her own, caught up in a haze of death and rage.

Let them die. Let them all die.

And then, flame. Flame and screams.

Screams of terror.

Screams of death.

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Supposed to be chapter break but I thought it was too short

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She was burning.

Fire was in her eyes, on her hands, in the little upturned snarl dancing on her face. Around her the acrid stench of burning flesh reigned. She heard hisses of fear, of pain. She ignored them. Let them burn.

She had never known rage such as this, never known herself to be able to drown in this lust for death. She gave a low, hideous laugh. They would burn. She would watch them burn. She would laugh.

She was herself, and yet was not. This thing, this laughing, sadistic, manic thing was not her.

Was it?

The thought was shaken off. They, those pathetic forms of life, unworthy of even being in her sight, had dared attack her. Who were they to even glare at her, to even think of her death?

:Scum. . . You shall all die. . . You shall all burn.:

No, this was not her.

Who was she?

Who was she?

Who am I?

Now she panicked. She bottled her rage. Battled her fires. And saw the destruction she had caused.

Carcasses of burning wyrsa lay scattered over the stable. A stack of hay was burning, and was soon extinguished. Blood and flesh and ash mingled, their stench filling the enclosed space.

Maie. I am Maie.

She took shaky breaths, trying to wrench herself out of panic. She didn't know who she was. For a moment, she didn't know she was Maie. She was nameless, faceless. . . soulless.

No. She denied the thought any power, yet power it stole all the same. No. I am Maie. I know who I am. I know who I am.

She sprinted out of the stables, down the pathway, into her room, to curl up on her comfortless bed and forget.

Flinging open the door, choking on a disbelieving sob, she flung herself onto her bed. So distressed was she that she did not hear the little shuffle of footsteps until some time later.

The housekeeper, she thought, shoulders tensing, an embarrassed flush rising up to her neck. Unthinking, she craned her head around to apologize.

And screamed.