A/N: Yep, this might be the first story ever where the baddie is named after a sandwich. Blame it on the neurons.

Rastan dropped her clipboard and backed slowly against the wall. The man on the bed was staring at her with a cruel smile playing about his thin lips.

"Well, well, well," he smirked with an evil grin, "Fancy meeting you here. I haven't seen you in ages, Rastan darling, how've you been?"

"Don't touch me," said Rastan in a firm voice that belied her shaking hands. "Don't even come near me."
"Now how would I do that?" sneered the pirate. "I can't even move. Come over here and look at my sores, little nurse."

Rastan backed out of the room wordlessly, her eyes wide with panic. She fled from the room and ran back towards the Lufwood Tower, not stopping until she reached her room and was buried deep under the covers on her bed.

It took a long time for her to stop shaking. Why now of all times did her disastrous pass had to catch up with her? In the midst of her first true happiness the scumbags of her path returned.

She lay in the bed until the sun went down. Then she realized that she was famished. Rastan walked warily down to the Dining Hall. She seated herself at the table across from Felix and ate. Felix must have noticed that she was jumpy and pale because he suggested a peaceful walk outside.

This appealed to her tremendously and she accepted. They walked away from the well-lit dining hall and strolled about aimlessly until the noise was barely audible. Rastan looked up at the moon. It was a slim crescent and the air was balmy and warm. It was a lovers' night, but Rook was far away.

Sighing deeply, Rastan sat down in the warm grass. Felix sat down next to her. They sat in silence for a very long time.

"I'm sure he's safe," said Felix quietly after a while. Rastan nodded but then she felt her lower lip starting to tremble.

Without warning, she burst into sobs, to Felix's consternation and great discomfort.

"He's going to die!" she wailed. "They'll kill him and then Gyro'll be able to get me. Don't let him get me, not again, please!"

Felix carefully disentangled himself from the sobbing woman.

"There, there," he said soothingly, "why don't you tell me what's going on before I agree to help you."

"That sky pirate…the one that came here…I know him!" she managed to choke out when she had calmed down a bit. "His name is Gyro, he lived in the Colony with me before I came to the Freeglades. He's a bad person, the worst, and I'm sure that he's lured Rook and Xanth and the Freegladers into a trap on purpose. Rook knows it too, but he wouldn't listen to me, he wouldn't listen to his dream, and now he's gone and he'll never come back!"

Felix was stunned by these revelations. He patted Rastan on the hand rather nervously and tried to digest what he'd just learned.

"If this fellow comes after you again, Rastan, tell me and I'll take care of him," he said seriously. "This is grave news, though, that Rook is riding into a trap. We should go after him now…but the Council would never permit it. But Rastan, pick yourself up. You're not the kind of person who flinches at her own shadow. Go to bed and get some rest, we'll sort this out tomorrow, and everything'll be okay then. Got it? Now go!"

Rastan stumbled back towards the sounds of merrymaking in the dining hall, tears streaming down her cheeks. Felix stayed where he was for a little while longer, reflecting on what he had learned. He knew that he had to do something to help his friends.

The next morning, Rastan went to work with her chin held high. She received questioning looks from many of her coworkers, but no one dared to ask why she had fled the building so precipitously the day before.

Everything went well until lunch time. She tended the sick and did some laundry, always carefully avoiding room 213. Sitting down for lunch with her friends was where the trouble began.

Rastan got up halfway through the meal to get a spoon, but on her way back to her seat a strong arm grabbed her and pulled her into the shadows. She felt a hand clap across her mouth, preventing her from screaming.

"You're going to come with me and don't even think about escaping," whispered Gyro in her ear. His beard was filthy and disheveled and she could feel it tickling her neck in a most unpleasant fashion. He dragged her through a narrow door and into a dark staircase.

"Now," he said, panting slightly, "let's talk business. Where did you go all those years ago when you mysteriously vanished?"

"I was captured by slavers, there was nothing I could do…" Rastan staggered as Gyro's hand slapped her across the face, setting her off balance.

"Tell me the truth," he snarled.

"That is…" another vicious slap drove her to her knees.

"If you won't tell me the truth then maybe we can deal with things the same way as before. I bet you'd enjoy that, eh Rastan?" He dropped to his knees and began fumbling with his belt.

Rastan sobbed and tried to crawl away but her head was still swimming from the shock of the slap.

"Come here," he growled, grabbing her by the front of her dress. Several buttons popped off.

"NO!" cried Rastan, throwing herself from his grasp. "I'm married now. I've changed. Please, don't!"

"A tiger doesn't change it stripes, little one. You can't escape…" Gyro's sentence trailed off into a gurgle. Rastan stared at her hand that was still clutching the dagger she had, until now, concealed in her shoe. She didn't move for a long time.

Suddenly snapping out of her trance, she looked down and noticed she was sitting in a pool of blood. Gyro was laying across her legs, dead as a doornail. Pushing him off with a grimace, Rastan rose and walked calmly to the locker room, clutching her shredded tunic tightly to her chest. She was in a state of shock but her mind was functioning perfectly well.

"Get a prowlgrin." It was telling her "After you change these clothes. You've killed Gyro, now go and save Rook." Mechanically, she showered and dressed before heading out to the private prowlgrin corrals.

She saddled up Jonquix, her strong orange prowlgrin, and grabbed a sack of food hanging on a hook. It was, she calculated, enough to feed her and her beast for two weeks. Without a further hesitation, she galloped off into the Deepwoods.