Pickle and Cat continued their journey on horse for some hours. The sun climbed high into the sky, scorching the ground in front of them. The heat was strong enough that both Cat and Pickle had shed their cloaks. They continued on the road, the dust disturbed by the horses hooves clung to the animal's legs. A slight cooling breeze refreshed them, and sent the fields of wheat swaying in the breeze, their golden colour shinning in the sun. They had left the village far behind them. In front of them, the rolling countryside like a patchwork quit lay before them. Pickle studied his new companion with interest. She had a bow in a holster on her back where it could be easily drawn and a quiver of arrows hanging from her belt. There was a long knife in a sheath, which he could now see as she had removed her cloak. All were within easy reach. She caught him staring at her, so he felt compelled to say something.

"Expecting trouble?" He asked. She was silent for a few moments before answering.

"There is always trouble waiting."

"I hope you don't mean me." Pickle said. She gave him a thoughtful look before shaking her head.

"I've had the feeling that I'm being followed for sometime now. But whoever it is is elusive, refusing to show itself."

He watched as she scanned the road head, seeming to sniff for dangers and traps ahead. Her manner tense, as though ready to flight or flee at a moments notice. A few birds could be heard twittering, a sudden brief breeze whipped the long grass and wheat, otherwise they were alone. Pickle reluctantly kicked his horse so he could ride alongside Cat.

"Why you look for the forest of Dun?" He asked her.

"I'm looking for something." She answered coolly, and from her manner he could tell she would not say more. He decided to change subject.

"How did you know I would not be able to find the forest without you?" He asked

"An informed guess." Cat replied and looked at him again. "It was clear to me you've been wanting to get home for some time. Yet there you were. You said 'together we may find the way', indicating that alone you had not been able to find it. And since you've been wanting to get home for some time you've not found anyone else to find the path. Therefore you think that I am the one that will be able to help you find your way back to the forest." She paused and smiled. "Part logic, part guess."

Pickle nodded. "Where do you come from?" he asked her.

"Ravensport, on the coast. You ask a lot of questions!"

"I'm trying to make you out."

"And if I said it was none of your business?" She asked coolly.

"I would reluctantly drop the subject." He admitted. "And bring it up again when you were more amenable!" Cat smiled and shook her head. "I can see it's going to take more than a refusal to get you to keep quiet!"

"If we were to travel the whole distance in silence it would make the journey a long and tedious one!" Pickle pointed out.

"Then you tell me how you managed to become lost." Cat asked him.

"I wandered far from home, and I found I couldn't get back." Pickle replied sadly.

"Did you retrace your steps?" Cat asked. Pickle nodded. "The paths were closed. I could not get back in."

"You speak of the paths being 'closed', what do you mean?" Cat asked.

"The way back had disappeared. I could no longer find the path I had followed. I was lost."

Cat regarded him with sympathy.

"I'm sorry." The sun was low in the sky, although it wouldn't be dusk for a number of hours. The sky was getting steadily darker.

"There's another village ahead." She said to Pickle. "We'll stop there for a rest." Pickle was hungry and saddle sore and was therefore eager to agree. They rode up a small lane, high hedges either side of them blocked their view. Berries were ripening on the twisted branches. Suddenly Cat reigned in her horse. She seemed a tense as a bow string, she looked about them, like a bloodhound sniffing the air. In a smooth movement she drew her bow and quickly notched an arrow. She loosed the arrow, it disappeared into the hedge. Pickle heard a short cry. She fired another, Pickle heard a second scream. From out of the bushes leapt a group of men. Hooded and cloaked, some carrying knives whilst others had heavy looking clubs all of them looked menacingly up at them. Cat leapt from her horse managing to loose three more arrows before she hit the ground. Throwing the bow in Pickle's direction she drew her long knife. Two of the group were already dead, a further two had an arrow each lodged in their leg and shoulder respectively and were trying to flee the scene. One came at her with a knife, she pulled the man's elbow down, slashed his neck. A second came, screaming loudly. She knocked his arm aside and brought her knife down it also cutting the man's throat. He collapsed to the ground blood gurgling in his throat. The next tried to punch her in the gut. She blocked, caught his wrist and turned it. As her knife scythed upwards, he desperately tried to punch her with his other arm. She blocked and in a quick movement she had his arm behind his back. The side of his neck gouging blood. He rolled away, clutching pathetically at the wound. There was one left, but he was prepared. He swung his sword at her. She ducked from side to side dodging the blows. He was getting angry, none of his blows had met their mark. He growled and thrust the sword at her. She stepped quickly in and to his side at the same time brought her knife down on his arm. He howled and dropped his sword trying to staunch the deep cut with his hand.

Pickle gapped. The fight had lasted no longer than a few minutes. All of the men lay around in a circle either groaning or trying to desperately crawl away. He could tell from some of their wounds that some of them would not last the night. Cat stood back from her last victim. He was kneeling on the ground in front of her still clutching his arm.

"Give me a name."

The man looked up at her.

"You must be mad." He panted. Blood was dripping down his arm and on to the dirt track. The rest of his gang had used what energy they had left and run. Pickle cautiously approached, careful to keep Cat between him and the attacker.

"Skarkill!" He exclaimed. Skarkill growled in response.

"You know him?" Cat asked.

"Yes, he works for Lord Fear!" Pickle still regarded Skarkill with amazement.

"Lord Fear?" Cat repeated.

"Yeah and he'll rip you to pieces!" Skarkill snarled. He stopped abruptly as a Cat brought a knife to his throat. Skarkill's one good eye widened as she put pressure on the blade, he could feel a thin stream of blood trickle down his throat.

"So far so good." She said coldy. She held the blade to his throat for a few moments longer, then as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished. Cat took a few step away from Skarkill.

"Get out of my sight." She commanded him quietly. He got to his feet as quickly as he could and ran away.

"Why did you let him go?" Pickle asked her.

"He was a coward. I have no time for cowards."

"You said you thought someone was following you. Now we know who sent them. " Pickle asked.

"Lord Fear." Cat nodded. "He must have sent the person asking questions about me in Ravensport."

The thought caused Pickle to shiver. He couldn't help but notice the shadows grow longer. His imagination turned them into long grasping fingers that seemed about to seize him.

The 'village' Cat had spotted was an optimistic term as it turned out to be three small houses, or hut's would be a more accurate term. Two of the houses had long since been abandoned. Their stone walls crumbled, their wooden beams rotted away. Plants had taken over. Tall willowherbs, their purple flowers standing proudly at having claimed another victory. The third dwelling seemed to be occupied. Broken and dilapidated like the other two, nevertheless it walls seemed to be in slightly better repair. They could see a small twist of smoke coming out of the top. They dismounted and lead their horses carefully to the entrance. Inside was a person, they couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman. They were huddled in an old stained cloak which was drawn about them. The figure was sat by a small fire. The figure's belongings, some rags and a large book were on the ground nearby.

"Hello?" Cat called. The figure looked up, still hooded a shadow fell across his face so she couldn't see any detail, though she thought she could detect a white beard.

"Have you come to rob on...me?" It was a male voice, deep sounding and trembled slightly.

"No." Cat said frowning. "There were some bandits, but we've seen them off."

"Cat saw them off!" Pickle said gleefully.

"Cat…" The old man said.

"Yes." Cat said. "I mean you no harm." She looked around the poor man's house. "We have food if you would like to share it?"

"It would be gratefully received." The old man said seeming to warm to them.

"Definitely not a peasant then." Cat muttered quietly to herself.

"What?" Pickle asked.

"Nothing." Cat said with a smile. Pickle was sent to retrieve some food from their saddle bags whilst Cat sat opposite the old man. He had somehow managed to contrive to have his face almost entirely hidden beneath the hood of his cloak. Cat glanced towards the book.

"What's in the book?" She asked. The old man reached protectively for it, then seeing that Cat was not going to jump across and snatch it from him he placed back down beside him.

"Memories." He said sadly. "Of younger days and times past." Pickle returned with the food. Pickle went over to the old man who held up his hand for the food but at the same time turned his head slightly away so Pickle didn't see his face.

"You are on a journey." Suddenly the man's voice had become hoarser.

"Yes." Cat said thoughtfully. Pickle was suddenly looking between the old man and Cat. "But the path is proving to be elusive." Cat added.

"You are not far now. Continue on the right path and remember the true name of the place you seek." Cat stood.

"Come on Pickle." Cat went to the door of the house. She turned and looked back at the old man.

"Thank you for your help."

"But aren't we…"Pickle said looking at the fire and thinking longingly of sleep.

"No, not here. Come on."

As he listened the hoofbeats dying away in the distance Hordriss the Confuser lifted his head and smiled.

"What do you mean you couldn't get her?!" Lord Fear thundered. "One girl?"

One crazy girl with a sharp knife, Skarkill thought inwardly. He kept looking at his shoes. All of his men, the ones that were still alive anyway, were still licking their wounds from the encounter. He had had to succumb to the ministrations of a doctor who had wrapped up his arm.

"Sorry Lordship." Was all Skarkill could think of saying. He had thought it was going to be an easy snatch. He and his gang had trooped all the way to some salt stinking seaside town only to find their quarry had gone. So he followed her trail finally managing to get in front of her in the lane. Then he found she wasn't going to scream for help, or be easily dominated.

"She could fight that one!" Skarkill finally managed to get up the courage to stand up to Lord Fear.

"She's a maniac!"

"Tell me everything you have found out." Lord Fear listened to Skarkill, who recounted how he had to track her down which meant by doing so he had found out a little more about her. When Skarkill had finished and escaped. Lord Fear turned to his pool of Veracity and yelled angrily.

"HANDS!"

"Cat." Treguard whispered quietly. He watched her fighting with the men Lord Fear had sent, all the while his gut twisting anxiously. She could fight, he was relived to see though she clearly had a preference for the bow. The reason for the mirror was so that so he could watch helpless, whilst she fell into Lord Fear's trap. He was pleased to see that she would be considerably harder to trap than Lord Fear had anticipated. Details were where Lord Fear usually fell down on. He had discovered Cat's existence, but clearly he had no idea that she'd been trained to fight. Yet he had still found out next to nothing about her. It seemed oddly ironic that he was now reliant on Pickle for finding out any information he could about her. It was information that she was clearly unwilling to share.

His ability to keep a cool head under pressure had saved his life on numerous occasions. It seemed to have deserted him for the moment. It was possible that she didn't know. He dismissed this thought quickly. Pickle had indicated that she was looking for Dunshelm, undoubtedly that meant she was looking for him. A sudden feeling of injustice overwhelmed him. Why had Lord Fear tricked him? Why did he have to be goaded into falling for his trap? If he had been prudent, if he had waited...As it was, Treguard wasn't sure that the only way he would ever see his daughter was through the mirror graciously provided by Lord Fear.