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Chloris looked around her and at her companions with suspicion. Their eyes were hooded and half their faces were shadowed by heavy cloaks pulled up over their heads to keep out the torrents of rain. She bit her lip and huddled closer into the saddle, uncomfortably shifting the glass ball in her lap, painfully thumping her knee. The trees seemed to be closing in. Chloris could barely see the path in front of her as gales of wind blew rain into her face.

She absently stroked the glass ball with one thumb as she peered into the darkness. Even while she was sick of the long trek and stiff from the days in the saddle she feared stopping for rest. She suspected an attack. Tonight was the perfect night for an ambush, she could hardly see. But, then again, she needn't depend on sight. She looked back down at the globe, catching a dim reflection of herself. Chloris looked away. She already knew what she would see. Black hair pasted to pale skin, covering her steel grey eyes. She had never seen them when they were red, but her gaze was intense and it was one of the things people feared most about her and the rest of her kin.

The sharp snap of a twig to her right alerted Chloris, making her stop short.

What was out there?

She quickly replaced the globe in her waist pack and held up right hand for halt, while she groped with her left for her crossbow. She nocked a bolt.

There was a rustle of damp leaves and the now audible slap of steps along the wet track.

Chloris swung her crossbow up, loosing a bolt and nocking another after it.

The bolt hit its target with a loud thump. Chloris urged her horse forward to see what they had hit, squinting through the rain.

A tree. She had hit a tree.

She hadn't missed with her crossbow in years. She had calculated the wind, and the rain. The only way she could have missed, even with the low visibility, was if nothing was there to miss. But that wasn't it, she was sure something had been there.

Another rustle.

Chloris jerked up again and loosed her second bolt. But, again, when she looked, it was a simple stump.

"Retrieve your bolts and stop this nonsense Chloris. We are wasting time."

Chloris turned to see which of her companions had spoken and saw that neither of them had moved or had even a hand on their daggers. She grimaced and then turned away, dismounting from her horse abruptly. They let me make a fool of myself! She thought indignantly, who do they think I am?

With a sigh she braced her foot against the first tree to wrench the bolt free. That did not work, however, they were imbedded too deeply. Cursing, she felt for her dagger and began to hack it loose. She let her anger run into her hands as she worked furiously. Anger at being cold, anger at the rain, anger at her companions, anger at the council that had forced her to go on this stupid errand, and anger because she was what she was. At times this great anger was her drive.

Chloris was moving on to her second bolt when a blur of movement came at her from her right. Her weak side. Before she could react she was on the ground with a dagger pressed to her throat almost noiselessly. A cold hand covered her mouth. Not that she could cry out any ways; the dagger was pressed too closely to her throat. She dimly registered the warm trickle of blood running down her neck. Then, with sharp clarity she realized that she was out of sight range of her companions.

She was in an impossible situation. She couldn't die, she carried the glass ball, and, as troublesome as it was, she had been charged with the delivery of it. Her only option was to fight until death.

Chloris slowly clenched her free hand, preparing her move. She drained her mind from her body and prepared to fight by her reflexes. Quick as lightning she snatched at her captor's hand, aiming a kick at his stomach with her left leg. With satisfaction she felt the pressure come away from her neck. Using the opening, she stood up, panting. If she turned her back and ran it would have been the end. She palmed a throwing knife and hid it in the folds of her torn cloak.

He came at her again with incredible speed.

She threw, but he dodged just as quickly, coming at her low and fast. Once again she had absolutely no time to react. She doubled over, as he knocked the wind out of her with one punch, and, once again, she was on the ground, this time with her arms pinned to her sides, and two daggers crossed over her throat.

"Will you hold still already," he panted, "I have to tell you something."

His voice caught Chloris off-guard. It was tired and solemn.

"It seems," she said quietly, barely moving her mouth, so as to escape being cut, "I am in no position to refuse."

She thought she registered a smile, but it was fleeting and could have been her imagination.

"Though," she added disdainfully, "you may tell, but that doesn't mean I will listen."

"Your sarcasm will get you killed later in life," was the equally scornful reply.

"Do you intend to make that a prediction or a threat?"

"Both, actually. I find you to be extremely loathsome."

"Is that what you had to tell me?"

"No, what I have to tell you is much more important, but first we have to get you away from these equally loathsome companions of yours."