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The little brown piglet had been restless all day. She watched him as he got up yet again from his spot near the gate and went around snuffling around every rock and bush he could find, making soft, mournful grunts in the back of his throat. He would gaze off longingly in the direction of the ravine that led into the Deadlands, then come back and do his rounds again before settling back into his spot, only to get up a few minutes later and repeat the process. It was getting annoying.

She sat atop the roof of the cave they had been living in for the past week and brooded. Cave, hah! she snorted. It had been little more than a hole in the ground when they first came here, and she'd been convinced that no amount of extravagant endorsement on the part of the mage could ever transform it into anything but a dank, shallow hole in the ground. Still, after she'd done a bit of digging and clearing, and after she'd set up the fence to keep out the occasional monster that strayed out of the Deadlands, the cave served its purpose fairly well. In fact, after covering the pile of straw that served as her bed with a pretty red flower-patterned sheet—provided by the mage, and she didn't want to know where exactly he'd gotten the sheet in the first place—and adding a ring of colorful stones around the fireplace, at times the cave looked downright cozy.

Then again, after she'd gone and wrecked their last hut yet again, she supposed she shouldn't complain. At least the cave had walls that didn't immediately collapse around their ears after a few measly punches.

She tugged her yellow hairbob off, ran her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair a few times, and with a sigh pulled her hair back off her face and retied the hairbob at the back of her head. She'd purchased the hairbob at the last village after that supposed sighting of Kyo, thinking that since she'd be seeing him soon she ought to look her best for him, but like every other rumor she'd stumbled upon, it turned out to be absolute nonsense. She'd been searching for months—traveling everywhere, talking to everyone, following every hint of an Ashari exploration party led by a red-haired boy to the bitter and often nonexistent end—and it was only around three weeks ago that she'd finally heard something that could possibly yield results. Or at least, had yet to prove itself another dead-end.

Even though this story sounded even more fantastical than all the other rumors combined.

But then, something about the mage told her that, in this at least, he was deadly serious. Which was saying a lot, since plenty about the mage was difficult for anyone to take seriously. She'd met him, of all places, at a village fair trying to sell ointments and potions of a dubious nature to a crowd that seemed to consist predominantly of furtive-looking men and giggling women. She hung behind the crowd, curious to see if he would actually succeed in selling something, realizing later that curiosity was probably what had drawn the crowd in the first place. Really, the man was a walking sideshow. He spotted her immediately, and what followed next was the most embarrassing introduction she'd ever had the misfortune to be involved in, but as time passed she learned to be grateful for the mage's company. It made her journey more interesting, although she still cringed at the idea of going into public places with him.

But the mage had a story to tell, and while his story was at times dark and horrible and too ludicrous to be believed, she had to admit that everything she'd seen only served to prove him right. She'd avoided the cities and larger towns with religious care, and so had only heard third and fourth-hand accounts of the trouble Mizaka was getting from a group of rebels styling themselves as Ashari. She herself was Ashari, and she knew her people would avoid the city like the plague until they knew they were strong enough to take on a port city with its armies of guards, so she had to wonder who those Ashari were who dared take on Mizaka. The villages were crawling with rumors about Kyo having been killed by Mizakan soldiers and the Ashari now out for revenge, and she'd suffered weeks of heartbreak and despair until she could sift the truth from fiction. And then the mage appeared, and the truth was suddenly right in front of her, spinning crazily out of her hands.

She couldn't deny it, though. She'd seen too much during her travels to go on blinding herself to the truth. Demon attacks and sorcery, cursed forests and monsters. There were fewer and fewer village fairs now; everyone was afraid, and strangers could not enter a village and expect a warm welcome set out for them. Except for the mage and her pet pig, she'd traveled alone for the past months, managing to cross the Deadlands into the fringes of the western lands by joining up with a caravan, the last caravan that ever made it through the miserable poisoned desert. Sometimes she could even feel the air tingling with a strange, restless power, as if some unknown wind was changing. Sometimes it felt as if her nerves were sizzling from it.

She sighed. Honestly, she didn't need any mysterious powerful forces to make her nerves sizzle; she'd been feeling nearly as restive as her piglet lately. After he'd helped her settle in her new home, the mage had disappeared for parts unknown as was his wont, leaving behind a warning to watch and wait. Watch and wait for what? she'd wanted to know, but his answers had bewildered her even more. Something about curses and magic stones and people crossing barriers. She'd shrugged and agreed, and since then had taken to climbing to the edge of the ravine overlooking the Deadlands twice a day, scanning the bleak horizon for caravans in distress. She didn't bother to look toward the dark line of the cursed forest; nobody ever got out of there alive anyway.

She'd already finished her morning patrol and was now lounging on top of her cave, feeling bored and restless and increasingly annoyed with her one remaining companion, who was now investigating the fence, sniffing morosely. "Ne, Keero, knock it off," she grumbled. "Nothing's happened in the past few days and you know it."

"Bwee," the piglet retorted, looking at her as if she'd just told him to go climb a tree. He trotted around in a circle, stopped at the gate and began scratching at it with a small hoof. His mistress sighed and jumped down. "All right, why don't we just go hunt for mushrooms and get rid of all this excess energy? Hmm," she added thoughtfully. "Rabbit stew for dinner does sound like a nice idea. Assuming we get that lucky, of course."

She went back into the cave and emerged a few minutes later with her hunting bow slung across her back and the dark Mizakan cloak draped around her shoulders. A hunting dagger was strapped around her thigh, while at her belt hung a pouch of small metallic balls filled with black powder that exploded like fireworks when thrown, a gift from the mage. Of course, like everything else that came from the mage, the balls were dazzling works of art in themselves—painted in a rainbow of colors and a few even had sequins and laces glued to them. A small sack for the mushrooms completed her attire. Months ago, she'd have scoffed at the idea of going out so heavily armed in order to hunt for mushrooms, but her travels through apparently deserted houses and villages and at the edges of the cursed forest, not to mention her rather harrowing caravan trip through the Deadlands had taught her that with all these monsters and demons running about, there was no such thing as 'heavily armed.'

She opened the gate and Keero trotted on ahead of her. Instead of heading toward the woods, he immediately made a beeline for the ravine as fast as his stubby legs could carry him. "Keero!" she called, hurrying after her piglet.

She found him fairly dancing at the edge of the ravine, grunting softly. "See? I told you there was nothing," she said, shading her eyes against the sun to gaze across the rippling expanse of the Deadlands.

"Bwee!" Keero rolled his eyes at his mistress' obtuseness. She had opened her mouth to comment on the un-boarlike attitude he was giving her when she saw it.

At the shadowy edge of the cursed forest. The looming, impenetrable barrier of trees had always been dark, but this time the blackness seemed to have come alive. The trees bulged and writhed and blazed with green lightning and streams of blue fire, almost as if something was trying to escape the forest and the forest was fighting like mad to hold it back. There was a low roaring coming out of the ground, and to her suddenly edgy imagination, it sounded like a noise made by a tiger that was trying to give birth to a dragon.

"Bwee!"

She shook her head, mesmerized by the sight. "N-no, Keero. If something's trying to come out of the cursed forest, then I don't want to be around to find out what it—Keero, come back!"

The little brown piglet was already half-way down the steep, rocky incline, picking his way with dainty albeit hurried steps. She slapped her hand against her forehead and muttered something about stubborn, pig-headed creatures, then followed him down the incline and into the Deadlands.

"Stay close to me," she told the piglet as they hiked through the rocks and black brambles and foul-smelling mud-holes. She'd unslung her bow and notched an arrow, watching warily for monsters, but Keero showed no such apprehension and trotted determinedly toward the twisting, groaning darkness. Thankfully the cursed forest wasn't too far away; water was something she didn't think to bring when she'd decided to hunt for mushrooms, but if whatever was coming out of that ominous place was in any way dangerous, then she and Keero would probably be needing more than water within the next hour or so.

As they drew closer, the ripples of power grew stronger, impacting with her body in almost physical blows and making her mind reel at the intensity of it. There seemed to be two different powers fighting each other, and the struggle was ferocious. Dark tentacles lashed out and struck the ground as shafts of white light and jets of blue fire tore at it from a point a few feet above the ground. They moved as close as they dared to the maelstrom, and even Keero had fallen silent, staring up with wide brown eyes. She lifted her bow and took aim with a steadiness that was astonishing considering that her insides were quivering like leaves in a storm, and waited.

She didn't have to wait long. There was another dull, furious roar, then the air itself seemed to split apart. Blinding blue-white rays exploded through the gap, making her gasp and shield her eyes instinctively. Realizing her error, she twisted aside in case something tried to take advantage of her momentary blindness, but then the blue-white light faded and the waves of power dropped to a tolerable level. Something moaned weakly—something that at least sounded human, and she lowered her arms and blinked.

A girl in a tattered brown smock lay several feet away from the line of trees, where she'd apparently rolled to a stop. She looked very ill-used. Long, chestnut hair lay matted against her head, glistening with the same blood that covered nearly one side of her face and stained the back of her dress, which hung open in a large, jagged tear. All along her arms were little cuts shaped like half-moons, as if somebody with especially sharp nails had ripped into her. The girl was deathly pale and barely breathing. All in all, it was hard to imagine a person who could be in worse shape than her.

She crept cautiously over to the prone figure then knelt beside her to turn her over, but stopped when the girl moaned again. Dull sea-blue eyes opened and tried to focus, then the swollen, blood-stained lips moved. "Yuki…kun," she whispered, then her eyes drifted shut again.

Her own ash-brown eyes widened, and suddenly Kagura understood what the mage had tried to tell her. With a shaking hand she brushed back the chestnut bangs, then as carefully as she could, lifted the girl and slung her over her back piggy-back style, the limp, bruised arms hanging over her shoulders. The movement must have jolted the girl awake, judging from the thready whisper right at her ear.

"It's all right," she murmured softly, praying that none of the monsters chose that moment to attack. "You're safe now, Tohru-kun. I've been waiting for you for a long time."

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Author's Notes:

Boy, that was draining. I rushed through this all weekend, and finally I can step back a bit and catch up with the rest of my life. Thank you so much to all of you who read and reviewed (and, er, forgave me for the cliff-hanger back there): Linay, cyjj, shardingtoby, anime26angel, C.B., Mistress RinRin, bubblegum koala girl (sorry, I guess my evil-ness has been slipping, huh? ^_^;), babyblu, Aisha, xxxholic, Gemini1, and R Junkie (you write a damn good fic yourself, I'm honored, really).

Er, an apology, though. I really tried to keep the characters in character, although I had a hell of a time with Akito and it shows too, but I confess that the action scenes were inspired mostly by Slayers and Inuyasha. Oh, and Diablo II. (I'm too chicken to fight Diablo, but at least I can write about him from a safe distance). Sorry if the characters are OOC. I'll work at it in the next chapters.

Oh yeah, Book 2 is officially over. Coming up next: Book 3: Black Queen, White Queen. Please continue to read and review, minna-san! ^___^