Author's Note: Whew! Sorry it has taken me so long to get back to this. (I'm sure both of my readers were disappointed ;) ) I've been pretty busy, what with, you know, carrying and giving birth to my son. But hopefully I'm back and will finish this story soon (for better or worse).

Some time later we crept back to camp and woke the others. Siobhan noted the flush on my cheek and the untidy state of my hair and arched an eyebrow. "Not a word from you," I warned as I checked my gear. "Not a word."

Our little party mounted up and we rode onward into the night. The forest thickened; fallen leaves cushioned the sound of the horses' hooves. We halted the horses as the bandit camp came into sight a couple of hours later.

There were eighteen of them sleeping in bedrolls around a dying fire. I motioned our party to halt and slid off my horse. Siobhan's arrow neatly took care of the only guard; one shot, through the throat, and he was dead without making a sound. Silently I crept to the edge of the small clearing where the bandits were camped, peering into the darkness in an attempt to locate Moira.

I felt rather than saw the others creep up next to me. Siobhan tapped my arm and pointed to a blanket wrapped figure lying at the foot of a tree on the far side of the camp. Pale hair was barely visible in the moonlight. Moira.

I nodded toward Douglass and then signaled the others to stay where they were. Together the noble and I stole around the perimeter until we reached the prisoner. I couldn't suppress a stab of pity for the girl; her face told the tale of many beatings, and her torn dress suggested other abuses as well. Douglass' face was a study in heartbreak as he took in the sight of his betrothed. Gently he placed a hand over her mouth and shook her awake. Moira's eyes flew open and she stared at us both in frank disbelief. Douglass motioned her to be silent and then lifted her in his arms. She clung to him like a woman drowning.

The journey back around the camp seemed to take forever. We had actually reached the others when one of the bandits snorted loudly and then sat up. We all froze as he got to his feet and staggered toward a nearby tree, fumbling with the lacings on his pants. He urinated against the tree, letting his sleepy gaze wander around the camp. Suddenly his posture changed and I knew he had seen the dead guard.

"Go!" I shouted.

"Intruders!" he bellowed at the same time, and the camp came to life.

Douglass fairly threw Moira onto his horse and then leapt up behind her. The rest of us mounted as quickly and rode helter skelter into the night.

We had a head start of only a few minutes – sleeping or no, those bandits would be mounted and chasing up within the quarter hour. We were outnumbered; our only hope lay in speed. Burdened as we were with the wounded woman, I knew that we wouldn't be able to move very fast for very long. I sent up a prayer to whatever gods might be listening that we could use a little help.

An hour's hard riding got us clear of the forest. I surveyed my companions. All were there and seemingly intact, but Moira was slumped in Douglass' arms and his horse, carrying the two of them, was beginning to flag. We reigned in the horses momentarily to regroup.

"We have to stop," Douglass called softly. "Moira can't take much more of this."

Fear made me curter than I might normally have been. "She'll have to," I snapped. "If we stop now we're dead. And let someone else carry her for a while or that nag you're riding will collapse." I dug in my saddle bag for a healing potion. "Have her drink this. It'll help some."

"She's barely conscious," Douglass protested.

"Then pour it down her throat!"

He glared at me, but began coaxing the girl to drink. She sputtered and coughed as the potion rolled down her throat, but a little color came into her cheeks. Douglass passed her over to Baret.

Faintly, I heard hoof beats in the forest. "Let's get moving," I said. "They're coming."