It was an old habit, to roll over in her sleep and put her arm around the person next to her. For the past year her arm had curled around empty space and blanket, clutching at nothing and finally falling to the bed. This morning as her arm moved in its familiar pattern, it connected with a body. She woke instantly and looked next to her in the bed, her heart beating double time. No, it wasn't Liam. Of course it wasn't Liam; he had been dead for a year. It was that creature she found in the forest – what was his name? Valen. A tiefling. She remembered now. Then the memories of what had gone on the previous night flooded back into her along with a great deal of guilt.

She clambered out of bed, looking around the floor for her clothes. They were in a pile near the bed, making it easy to grab them and scamper into the other room. She stood by the now cold hearth, panting. Quickly she slipped on her breeches and tunic and went outside. Pacing back and forth in the yard, she thought, "What in the hell possessed me last night? Maybe I was seduced somehow." But as soon as she thought it, she knew it wasn't true. She had been the aggressor last night. The poor man lying in her bed was probably more confused than she was.

Out of the corner of her eye the barn beckoned with its silent call. Not only did she need to care for her livestock, she needed something to do, so she could think through what had happened. She had been grieving over Liam last night. In her grief, she had reached out for the only thing there that could make her forget. That's what had happened. Nothing else. It wasn't as if she loved that man in her house. Or even really felt anything for him. He was just conveniently there when she needed someone. It could just as well have been Dayfid, had he been with her last night. At least Valen wouldn't confuse the issue, as Dayfid would. Dayfid loved her: she knew that. If she had slept with him, things would have gotten very complicated, very quickly. "Thank the gods for small favors," she said to herself as she brushed Violet down.

Anara finished up her chores in the barn, grabbed a bucket of water from the well and went inside. Valen was sitting at the table, staring at her intently. "Um, hello." She said, the forgotten bucket of water sloshing at her side, "I feel a little foolish…"

"About last night…"

They both smiled. "You first," Valen said, his intense blue eyes making her squirm.

She set the bucket on the counter. "I'm sorry I took advantage of you last night. I was just feeling so lonely, and I wanted to be with someone. I hope you don't think less of me." Anara busied herself with the fire. That man's stare was intense. She felt guilty already; his gaze made her feel like she was under a magnifying lens and it was concentrating the guilt into a small hot spot.

"I was going to apologize for the same thing," Valen said calmly. "I thought I was taking advantage of you. I'm sorry. I hope you don't hate me."

"I don't hate you." Her hands went up to her bruised neck. "I'm a little scared of you when you're angry, though. Look, obviously we're both a little uncomfortable about what we, ah, did last night. So let's not talk about it anymore, ok?" Anara held out her hand. Valen took it, then before she could let go he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. He looked up at Anara. She couldn't tell what emotion was behind the look he was giving her. She decided that she couldn't afford to care.

"My lady, I don't hate you. I'm not uncomfortable about what happened last night, either. But if you would rather not discuss it, I will bow to your wishes."

Anara gave him a brief smile, and then started preparing breakfast. As she was getting the griddle ready in the hearth, she heard someone out in the yard. She peered out the window and saw Dayfid with a wagon. "Why can't that man just leave me alone!" she groaned. She turned to Valen.

"Perhaps you should go into the bedroom until he's gone. I don't know if he'll get mad again or not. Sometimes he's a little unpredictable."

Valen gave her a funny look, then walked into the bedroom and gently shut the door. He walked quietly over to the window and hazarded a glance out. The man hopped out of the wagon, ran a hand through his blonde hair and grabbed a package out of the back. He began to walk towards the small house.

Valen stepped back from the window and moved closer to the door so he could hear the conversation between Dayfid and Anara.

She was still busily cooking breakfast in the other room. It served as a distraction from the confrontation that was looming. The door resounded with a loud knock.

"Who is it?" she called.

"It's Dayfid. May I come in?"

"Yes."

He walked in the door and set the package he was carrying on the floor. Looking around the room, he saw nothing out of the ordinary. He had been to Anara's home many times in the past year, and it still looked the same. The only difference was the bedroom door was closed. Usually she left it open – for the extra light from the window in there. He shook his head. The tiefling must be in there.

"What do you want?" she asked him.

Dayfid smiled at her. Even in her grief, she is beautiful, he thought. If only she had consented to marry him, instead of Liam, she wouldn't be suffering now. But that was the past, and for all the gold in the world it couldn't be changed. "I brought you some supplies. I thought you might need some extra."

Anara stopped what she was doing, turned around and gave Dayfid a steely gaze. "I appreciate that, but I could have come into the village to get supplies, if I needed them. You didn't have to ride all the way out here."

"Well, I felt otherwise. I'm worried about you. Are you alright? There aren't any, ah, problems, are there?" He looked at the bedroom door, and then back at her face. Her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed together. She was mad.

"I'm fine. In fact, I haven't felt this good in a while." Anara put the food she'd prepared on the table and stepped over to stand right in front of him. "I have finally begun to see that there is a way out of the darkness that I've been trapped in. I know it's going to take some time for me to find my way out, but the way is clear. I still grieve for my lost husband, but I am dealing with that now. I am no longer trying to hide from it."

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Dayfid began.

"Shhh. It's over and done with. Look, I found him in the forest a few days ago. He was dying. I had to save him, and I think you understand why."

Dayfid's eyes went to the door.

"I promised your parents that I would look after you. If something happens to you they'll be most upset with me. They…"

"My parents gave up any claim to me when I married Liam." Anara turned around and walked back towards the hearth. "I know they wanted me to follow them in their worship of Chantea, and become a druid. I walked that path for a while. But I chose this life." She whirled around again, pointing a finger at Dayfid. "I do not worship the Great Mother anymore. Not after what happened last year! I can't! My choices are my own to make. Nothing you say can change that. Just accept that I no longer follow the calling. Someday, maybe, I will go back to it. But I can't right now." She dropped her hands by her side. "Thank you for the supplies, Dayfid. I think you should go now."

He grabbed her by the shoulders and said, "I will see you tomorrow. If you don't come into the village by noon, I will be out here." He glanced meaningfully at the door. "I just want you to be safe."

"I will come to the village, then. Please go." She took a step back and wrapped her arms around her waist. She watched him turn around and go out the door. The sound of the wagon moving down the road made her feel relieved. The bedroom door creaked open. She looked at Valen, smiled, and said, "Breakfast is ready. It might not be as warm as it could be, but…"

"Why are you doing this? Why are you risking everything to help me - someone you don't even know? Someone who has already proven to you," Valen pointed to her neck, "how dangerous he is? Aren't you taking a huge risk, harboring me here?"

"It's my risk to take. It's a risk I have to take." She sat down at the table. "I haven't really been living since my husband was killed." She swallowed hard to keep the grief at bay. "Since I rescued you in the forest, I have felt like my life had some purpose – even if it was only to heal you. I needed to have some reason to live. Before I found you, I was on a path that was going to end in my own death. I wanted to die. Part of me still does. And while the grief still smothers me, there are moments where I can breathe through it, and things don't seem quite so dark and hopeless." She looked at Valen, tears shining in her eyes. "I have you to thank for that. So even though I am, as you say, risking everything to help you, if I don't take the risk, I will lose it all." It amazed her that it seemed so much easier to talk to this complete stranger than to those that were close to her. It was the first time she'd spoken of how she felt to anyone.

Valen sat down at the table. "I can't lie to you, Anara. There is a real possibility that when Grimash't finds me, he'll take you too. You may lose it all anyway. Believe me, to be a slave to a demon in the Abyss is worse than dying. You will come to hate me if he finds us here and takes us both." Valen turned his head and looked out the window into the yard. It was beautiful here. The places he'd been didn't have a sky in the normal sense, and the air was often foul and poisonous. The sun here made things a little bright for his taste, but then he wouldn't be here long enough to get used to that. He sighed and looked at his hands.

"You know, Valen, we really ought to get you into some decent clothing." Anara said, looking steadily at him. He met her gaze. She was smiling. "I have some in my room that might fit you. Some shirts, at least. I don't know about the pants. You're a lot taller than Liam was. But maybe we can find something. Come on." She stood up, clearly expecting him to follow her into the bedroom.

Once inside, Anara opened a chest at the foot of the bed. Inside were the types of things you'd expect to see – quilts, some extra pillows, and way in the bottom, some men's clothes.

"I couldn't bear to give them away after he died. I took them out of the wardrobe, because I couldn't stand to see them either. But I kept them. I used to pull them out and smell them. They smelled like him, you see, for a while. But then the smell went away and I washed them and put them in here. Now," she held up a shirt. "I think this might fit. Try it on please."

Valen put the light blue cambric shirt on. The wounds on his back, while healed, were stiff. The shirt fit, although it was a little tight through the chest. He moved his arms back and forth experimentally. Anara walked around him to check the fit in the back.

"Well, I think that will have to do," she said. "It's the largest one I can find. Maybe I could alter a couple of the others. Pants, on the other hand, will be more difficult. You're a good 6-8 inches taller than Liam was." She pulled out a pair of pants and handed them to him, then left the room. He tried them on. These most definitely did not fit. They were too small in the waist and much too short. He put his old pants back on and walked out into the other room.

"Those pants are too short and I couldn't fasten them in the waist. I can wear what I have on. I'm sure I won't be here long anyway." He looked at Anara and shook his head. "There is something else I must tell you," he said.

"Well, spit it out," she said.

"Grimash't placed a sigil of finding on me some time ago. He can track where I am through it. And through the sigil, I have a connection with him. He'll send someone to get me, or he'll come himself. If I am to ever be free of him, I have to find a way to get rid of it. I'm going to need your help."

"What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to cut it off me," he said. Then he pulled down the top of his breeches to show her the tattoo on his lower back. It was dark red, like a welt, and the pattern was strange. There was an X with a circle around it, and then lines radiating outward from the circle. Her eyes grew wide at the sight of it.

"Will cutting it off remove it?" she asked.

"I don't know. But it's worth trying," he said as he pulled his breeches back up.

The room was silent as Valen awaited her answer. It wasn't really her decision to make. She would do it if he wanted her to.

Hesitantly she asked, "Are you sure? That's going to hurt – a lot."

"It's the only thing I can think of at this moment. The sooner the better. Otherwise we'll have more than pain to contend with. He's probably already sent someone out on my trail. It's only a matter of time before they find me."

"Ok," she said and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Let's get some things together so we can do it properly."

So the plan was to cut a piece of skin off his back. What would she need? Some kind of anesthetic to take away some of the pain; clean linens or bandages, and a sharp knife. Did she have a sharp knife? Surely there had to be one around from Liam's trapping days.

The list in her mind, she set off to find the items, leaving Valen sitting at the kitchen table. This plan was insane. More so because she wasn't sure she could actually bring herself to slice off a chunk of his back. But it was what he wanted her to do, and he had a good reason, sure enough.

An hour later they both sat at the kitchen table. The sun was blazing through the window and illuminating the tiefling where he sat, making him look more like an angel than a demon. In front of him was Anara's last bottle of grain alcohol. It had been full when she placed it in front of him, and now the level was sitting at around ¾ full. He was starting to sway a little in his seat and his eyes had taken on a rheumy look.

"Drink one more cup, and I think you'll be pretty numb," she said, trying to stifle a laugh as the man almost knocked the cup over.

"I think I'm pretty numb already," he said, his words slightly slurred. "Did I really have to drink this?" He poured some more alcohol into his cup, the look on his face one of utmost concentration. Still, the tip of the bottle barely lined up with the cup and some sloshed onto the table. Then he grasped the handle like a drowning man clutches a life preserver and drank the contents.

Anara smiled to herself. It was amusing to watch someone else getting drunk for a change. But the task he had asked her to do for him was anything but easy. She had done her share of skinning animals back when Liam had trapped. Since his death, she'd been forced to do a little trapping of her own; both for the meat of the animals and the money the pelts would bring. But the animals were dead when she skinned them. Skinning a live man, even if it was a small part of that man, wasn't going to be so easy. She sighed and set her resolve to do the task, then got up and helped Valen stand up.

"Easy there, big fella," she said as he almost came crashing to the floor. "Just try to stand for a minute." She turned his chair around so the back faced the table. "Sit down with your chest to the back of the chair."

He was so grateful to sit down and stop the incessant spinning of the room that he didn't question the placement of the chair. "Did you know that the room is shpinning?" he asked.

She chuckled. "Yes, I'm sure it is." Then she took the knife she'd found in the barn and poked the tip of it into his bare back. He didn't flinch or make a sound. The alcohol had done its job – he was as numb as he was going to get.

"Ok. Grab the back of the chair with both hands and try to hold still. This is going to hurt – a lot. Hopefully the alcohol will help, but once I start cutting into you, it won't be enough." She took a swig of the bottle for herself, just to strengthen her will for the upcoming ordeal.

Knife in one hand, clean cloth in another, she kneeled behind Valen. The sigil on his back was probably 2 inches in diameter. She placed the newly sharpened knife at the top of the mark, her hand wavering a little. Then she set her shoulders back and began to cut.

The man in front of her stiffened, his hands clenching the chair with a silent ferocity. His breathing became harsh and deep, but he remained still. His drunkenness seemed to burn away with the pain the knife was inflicting on his already tortured back. The mark was halfway off, and the blood was welling up and starting to drip. She patted it to keep it from running down his back and tickling him, if he could even feel that over the pain. Then it was done – the mark was off and she held a flap in his skin in her hand.

"Ok, that's it. You can move now, if you like." She stood up went to the sink to wash her hands in the bucket there. Valen didn't move. His face was ashen and he looked as if he might be sick. Then he let out a piercing yell that sounded as if all the dogs of Hell were on his trail.

Quickly she spun around and went to his side. "What is it?" she asked, touching his face. It was cold and clammy, but his eyes… his eyes were tinged with red and full of fury. He was still breathing fast and heavy, and his hands were clenching and unclenching around the back of the chair in front of him. There was no trace of the drink in him anymore.

"My back," he growled.

She walked around behind him and looked at the spot where she had so recently been cutting. The skin had grown back and the mark was etching itself back into his skin. Only now it was larger than it had been, and the red lines of the design pulsed with a sick energy.

"Oh Great Mother," she said as she sank to her knees. "I'm so sorry. Does it hurt?" She moved back to the table so she could see his face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and his face was contorted in a grimace of pain. She laid a hand on his shoulder, trying to pass some comfort to him but feeling useless. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's not your fault," he said through clenched teeth. "I wasn't sure it would work, but it seemed like the simplest thing to try."

She hazarded another glance at the growing mark. The throbbing had stopped, and the area looked like nothing had ever happened. There were no cut marks or ragged seams. All that was left to show anything had happened at all was some dried blood.

Valen was standing and stretching his arms. His face was no longer knotted in a scowl of pain and he was wiping away the tears from his cheeks. "The pain, it's… it's gone," he said. Then a huge sigh escaped from his lips, his whole body sagging with the release of it. The red was gone from his eyes and sadness replaced the fury that had been there.

"There's nothing for it, then," he said, catching up Anara's hands in his. He caught her eyes too and said, "Now we'll just have to find a mage."