A/N: And just when I thought I'd never get this uploaded... Here it is! Sorry about the long wait- for some reason wasn't letting me upload. I kept getting an error.

A week later the plan Faolan had read about in the message was implemented, and Fao found herself on the front with her Scouting group, reading and sometimes only pretending to read the minds of Valdemaren soldiers they happened on. They had formed a communicating line of werewolves, as the plans had detailed, and their Scout group changed intermittently with others, scouting out valleys and pushing farther and farther into Valdemar, only leaving empty lands behind. When they met Valdemarens, the soldiers went forward and fought- if they lost the Scouts reported it. If they won the Scouts reported it. Faolan was often sent off to run mental messages up and down the lines- the messaging system was at the heart of this tactic.

The scary thing was, it was actually seeming to work. Sometimes they had to wait as other parts of the line cleared up, but they were pushing into Valdemar. Faolan wondered sometimes as she slept on hard dirt under a leafy sky, if telling Raul had helped at all.

Except then, suddenly, it stopped working.

Faolan woke up one morning to a rough shove, and a face peering down at her. It was Ursula, and she her expression was especially dark. It was still night, and Faolan wondered if they were doing a nocturnal scout- but Ursula hadn't mentioned anything from before..

"Up," the woman hissed, "Get dressed. You've been called back. No idea why. Actually- don't bother getting dressed. Wolf form will be quicker. The message sounded urgent. The Commander wants you."

Faolan did as she was told, quickly moving to wolf form in the cool darkness of the night. Little chills of fear get going through her- what if something had happened? It was probably nothing- well, nothing concerning her that is. She was a mind speaker, after all. She wondered what message would have to be sent this time.

Soon Faolan was loping through cool woods, Ursula's eyes trailing her out of sight. It took her about an hour to reach the camp the Commander was in- the larger encampment had been abandoned for smaller camps- it wasn't good to stay in one spot too long anyway. The sentries let her pass with barely a nose sniff, and Faolan hurried to the Commander's tent. When she entered, she was surprised to see not only the Commander, but Dagny, Dashiell, and Toril.

"Change," the Commander ordered as she entered, "You may where those clothes."

Feeling some trepidation, Faolan climbed out of her wolf form, barely noticing the odd sensation of her bones changing shape- the sensation that had once, a long time ago, pained her every time. She quickly pulled on the clothes and then stood before them, wishing she had something to tie her hair up in. It was getting way too long.

"Faolan of the Harailt pack," he said sternly, and motioned at a chair, "Take a seat."

Fao glanced at him nervously as she sat down and wishing she could talk to Raul. She let out her Empathy a bit and touched the Commander's soul- but it revealed little, only a swirl of coldness, confusion, and frustration. Dashiell was his usual selfish self- his emotions were purely curious and self confident. Toril's was confused, and Dagny was confused as well. What were they confused about? She didn't dare risk reading their minds.

The Commander cleared his throat and then frowned and Faolan and said, "Did you know, Scout Faolan, that the Valdemarens managed to sneak through a hole in our lines and make several ambushes on our soldiers from behind?"

Faolan quickly shook her head then said, for good measure, "No, sir."

"Do you know how this was managed, Faolan?" the Commander inquired, pacing in front of her, his hands knotted behind his back. His frown was deeper than before.

"No sir," Faolan said, fidgeting on her chair. She had a cold feeling that she knew where this was going.

"I shall lay it out for you, Faolan," the Commander said and Dagny shifted uncomfortable off to the side, "They snuck through a valley you reported clear. They snuck through before we formed the continuous line. This ambush of theirs was planned with knowledge. Inside knowledge. How, do you imagine, they'd get that?"

"I don't know, sir," Faolan replied, glancing up at him before lowering her eyes to the ground, "There couldn't be a werewolf spy- could there?"

"That is the exact question that has arisen in the minds of all of us," the Commander said, his voice low and dangerous, "It is hard to imagine, of course, what possible reasons a werewolf could have for revealing our plans to those of the enemy. What would it get them? Not true control- and it would get them exile from the werewolves, and death if they were caught. What werewolf would want that?"

"No werewolf," Faolan answered, and thought, A Herald werewolf…

"Well," the Commander said, "As unlikely as it seems I am forced to confront my suspicions. Dashiell will be reading your mind again to make sure you are not lying to us Faolan. If you are what you tell us, you should have no problem with this assurance of your loyalty. I apologize ahead of time, but I have given Dashiell orders to make sure you are not lying."

Faolan stared at him, dread filling her every pore. She wasn't sure she could withstand that sort of mental.. mental rape again. But she'd have to. Faolan looked up at the Commander, and realized she was staring at Death incarnate- if she slipped.

Raul, Raul! she thought, We've gone to far, you've got to save me! But Raul was too far away- and she couldn't risk calling for help with Dashiell so close to her and giving her such scrutiny.

"I'm not a spy," she said vehemently, "I'd never betray us… why would I betray us?"

"That's what we'd like to know," the Commander told her darkly, "Toril tells us you're Valdemaren- came in at the age of seven and said you'd been running wild for a few years in Valdemar. She said you had some trouble with the Change, some odd aspects of control. You're not here at a young age for no reason- you must be good, and your history affirms this. Dashiell confirms what you've said from his first look into your memories… but from what I've learned about witches, there are different levels of power. Dashiell does not have the greatest training… perhaps he missed something?"

"N-no," Faolan shook her head, looking at Dashiell. He didn't meet her gaze- didn't even look concerned, in fact, "I swear, sir, I'm not a spy."

"That fact, I assure you, will be ascertained," the Commander said, then turned to Dashiell, "Are you ready?"

"How do you know he isn't lying? He has mind speech too!" Faolan said, risking voicing her own opinion.

Dashiell looked at the Commander, who stared at Faolan and said, "No suspicious lines of information point towards him, Faolan. If they did, I assure you your positions would be reversed."

With that, Dashiell stepped forward and sat down in front of Faolan. The Commander said, as she sensed him going into trance, "Do not try to resist, Faolan. This will be over quickly."

If the Commander said any more Faolan didn't hear it, because at that moment she felt Dashiell push at her shields, and she dropped them quickly, not knowing what else to do. Her heart pounded so hard she felt sure it would burst. Dashiell's mind pressed through her own, a hard force that ripped through her thoughts- not like the gentle prodding of the first time. In horror, she clutched at two facts: the I am a spy and I am a Herald, wrapping them in a tiny cocoon of pure fear and pure need to keep those concealed, and she held them tightly in the darkest corner of her mind, unable to stop and adjust the rapid burrowing that Dashiell was doing. There was no chance of pushing him one way or another like before- apparently Dashiell was making sure she wasn't going to try and do just that. She felt memories and words and thoughts flit before him, and they went so fast Faolan barely had a chance to register what they were, and if they were of danger to her. She felt him nearing memories that were a danger like a bludgeoning hammer, that she knew were dangerous, and clutched Raul to her tighter. She clutched the Heralds to her, and she clutched her spying out of the way of his blunt, angry mind reading.

Please not this, not this, don't find these, she thought fervently, not caring if Dashiell heard because if she stopped concentrating on it he'd know it all anyway.

What felt like hours- years later, she felt him leave, and she sank backwards into the chair, not even realizing she'd been sitting with every muscle on edge, tight and coiled and rigid. Her breath sank out of her with a whoosh and she just sat there, limp, her eyes closed and her shields slowly crawling back up, not even caring what happened- if she were to live or die by this. Her mind hurt, with a painful, pulsing sort of way. It wasn't a headache, it was purely mental. She felt drained; she felt burnt out.

Faintly, as if from very far away, she made out voices talking above and around her. At first she couldn't understand what they were saying, but slowly, slowly, she forced herself to listen. She couldn't tell who's voice it was, but she listened.

"… very strange memories."

"Like how?"

"I'm not sure… I think she's more powerful than I initially thought- just not necessarily in range. I think those memories may be from people she came in contact with, probably accidentally. The training she has must not be sufficient enough control. It seems like she has control, but she clearly doesn't, not on the subconscious level."

"What does that mean then?"

"I don't think she's a spy- at least, not of her own will. Those who are witches are kind of like lights in a darkness of non-magic. The Witches of Valdemar can probably see her like a lantern on top of a mountain on a dark, clear night. She seems extremely receptive on a subconscious level- she's probably subconsciously broadcasting. There's certainly been others in her mind before… Her memories aren't that coherent, pieces seem to be missing and they don't all match up with what we know about her, but from what I've learned being a mind speaker, memories aren't reliable at all so that really doesn't tell us much. I don't know why she decided to read the plans you sent with her, but she did and I think that's the cause of this. It's also possible that the Witches have been manipulating what she remembers from scouting- through her mind speaking magic. Those who have such magic and notoriously more susceptible from such manipulation. There's that one Witch- the Dreamer, they call him- I think she's come in contact with him so who knows what she thinks she been seeing."

"Don't you know?"

"Well- an expression, sir. Basically it means her memories are unreliable. All of ours are."

"Can we trust her?"

"Well, I think we can trust Faolan, the girl…. but I don't think we can trust her power."

"What do you recommend we do?"

"Stop using her mind speaker abilities. Keep her as far away from important information as possible. I'm still not sure… it's possible she actually is a spy. She was in Haven once, for a few years, it wasn't clear why in her memory- that could have been a picked up one too… her memories aren't linear at all…"

"Might it be simpler to exile her… or kill her?"

"Simpler yes… However if she's being used then exiling her won't stop her from being used. We can't send her back to Skylar- she doesn't have true control yet and killing her… I think if she got better training- we could sent her out of Karse to a place where there are Mage schools, get her some real training and then she could be the greatest werewolf of our time. We could both go, actually…"

"But she doesn't have true control."

"No…"

"Send her to the front. Not as a Scout. As a soldier. Put her where many trained werewolves are, ones that just fight and don't know any plans. Keep her as low as possible in the line of information, keep her very busy fighting. That'll stop her from causing trouble, and get her true control as soon as possible. And if she dies, then she's just another werewolf casualty. They can't all live, after all. Better death than living without control, after all."

"There's a good idea… we could have her back to Skylar in a few months, maximum I bet… Then once the war is over we can go find some Mages…"

"If the war ever ends."

"We're winning."

"Not since her."

"The war is what keeps us alive. It doesn't matter how long it goes on, it doesn't matter if Valdemar defeats Karse. We are vultures, we feed off the fighting to give ourselves life. We are werewolves, we live for ourselves. The only thing the end of this war would bring is a separation of the Packs again- a good and bad thing. Most werewolves prefer the small Pack life, sending out their young to gain true control in small parties… But more werewolves have gained true control, and actually learned something from it in this war."

"Right, sir."

"Well- someone notify Ursula… and wake up Faolan. Dashiell I want you to keep an eye on her- is it possible you can keep a wall on her thoughts until we get her back on the front in a fighting group?"

"Yes, sir, I can do that."

"Excellent. Stay here with her- she's not going back to Ursula so we don't have a tent for her right now. Dagny, find someone to be a messenger, Toril, you may return to your group- thank you for your help."

Faolan felt a light slap against her face and she winced, but couldn't force herself to open her eyes. The words she had heard were still going through her head- her brain couldn't really comprehend them as fast as normal and she was still struggling to understand what they'd been talking about. Suddenly she felt cold water splash onto her face and her eyes opened not of her own will. She leapt up, gasping and sputtering, then choking as some of the water went up her nose. The light of the tent burned her eyes, as if the fire was on her eyes physically, and not just in the form of light.

Vaguely she realized she was yelling and she stopped, then stared at the people in front of her. Dashiell was standing there, a smirk on his face, and the Commander was on the other side of the tent, leaning over a chest. Her vision seemed oddly blurry, and she couldn't tell what he was doing.

"Dashiell?" she managed to sputter. Her voice sounded off too somehow…

"Hi Faolan," he answered and Faolan suddenly had the strong desire to hurt him physically.

However, she still felt so disoriented all she managed to do was glare at him, feeling like she'd been strongly violated by him. He glanced over the Commander and some words were exchanged- it was taking all of Faolan's concentration to stay up and aware that she didn't make them out, but then Dashiell was taking her arm and steering her across the room, then sitting her down on a cot and pulling off her boots. A warm fur covered her and then before she realized it, Faolan had fallen into a very deep sleep.

A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last time- I'd say more but I think my bus is coming so I must go!