"Richard!"

The hissing voice came from behind the Seeker, apparently bodiless. Richard whirled, one hand on his sword, half-pulling it from its sheathe, calculations shooting through his head. How close was Zedd? Cara? Had the enemy already gotten to the camp - and to Kahlan? "Who's there?"

"It's me." The same whisper growled in exasperation. "Over here." Accompanied by the sound of something large shifting in the leaves, a red-gloved hand emerged from between two tree trunks, giving a small wave before disappearing into the shadows again. There was another loud crunch of leaves and silence.

"Cara?" Richard dropped his sword back into place, approaching cautiously. He rounded the two oaks, which were placed so close together someone could easily see from between them and remain unseen. He grinned. "I thought you didn't want to come hunting? What are you-"

Something yanked hard on Richard's pants leg. He lost his balance, tumbling off to the side. The ground seemed to disappear from under his feet and he fell, grappling for his sword.

"Shh!"

Cara pressed a finger to his lips and he opened his eyes wide. They were in what looked like a large rabbit den, underneath a small overhang from behind the two trees. The dirt under Richard's back was cool, and the only light came from the slim opening he could barely see from where he lay.

Cara finally removed her hand from his mouth. "Stay quiet."

Richard half-propped himself up on an elbow. She was on one knee beside him, her head stooped so as to not touch the dirt ceiling. "What are you doing?" he whispered harshly.

"Hiding. I'm very pleased with this spot - you didn't even see it until you fell into it." She smirked.

"Hiding from what?" Richard growled. "Spirits, I could've cut your head off. Don't sneak up on me like that."

Cara waved a hand dismissively. "With me positioned like I was and at the angle you fell, your sword arm was far too close to the wall to even draw your blade, much less fight with it."

"The question remains - what are you hiding from?"

Cara took a look out the sliver of opening, a furtive look in her eyes. "The Mother Confessor."

"Kahlan?"

"Yes!" Cara snarled. "Keep it down."

"Why in the name of the spirits are you hiding from Kahlan?"

"Because she won't leave me be!" Cara exclaimed in a whispered outburst. "She hunts with me, she rides next to me, puts her sleeping roll next to mine... I woke up during her watch and she was staring at me! And I know she stayed awake during my watch. I can't even visit the latrine without her hovering by, waiting for me to finish! I can't kill her, I can't torture her, and I cant scare her - this is uncharted territory! I can't breathe, Richard!"

Richard glanced around her cramped hiding place. "And this is your solution?"

Cara scowled. "I don't see you coming up with anything better."

Richard sat up completely, brushing the dirt from his back. "Look, why don't you just talk to Kahlan instead of hiding like a sulky child?"

"The last time I talked to her it resulted in this! No more talking. Talking has only gotten me into trouble." Cara shook her head.

Richard spread his hands. "Then I don't know what you want me to-"

A very familiar sound echoed through the trees, ricocheting off the rough bark and the leafy ground. It struck a cold, awful fear in Richard's heart and ignited a reluctant, white-hot need radiating from the palm he was itching to lay on his sword.

It was the sound of battle cries, and blades pitted against each other for a fight to the death.

XXX

The next few minutes were a blur.

Cara flung herself from her foolish hiding place and was running, her legs pumping hard, sinew and muscle and bone tightening and pushing in complete synchronization, unaware of anything but the meaning of the sound she had heard. There was death in the air today. Surely some of it would be at her hands. But how much of it would be at their hands, those that hunted them, those that opposed them?

The Seeker was behind her, his reflexes not as fast, hindered by his heavy pack which he still wore. Her usual need to stay right beside him, to make him stay back, to watch him and watch those that came at him was gone. She was running to the campsite at full tilt, driven by some other motive, one she couldn't identify.

When she and Richard burst through the trees, the little hollow they had made home for the night was in disarray. The sun bursting at short intervals through the trees glanced off swinging blades; the air was thick with flying arrows; somewhere from the far edge, lights and flame shot across the ground, scorching bodies and flinging them away.

Cara sprang into the fray, looking left, looking right - what was she looking for? Her Agiels burned into her hands, even through her gloves, the familiar agony ripping through her forearms and jolting to her shoulders, sharpening her senses. The world seemed to come into focus.

Zedd, his back to a rise, was fighting off a large group with roiling, sticky flame, but for every man he pushed back two more surged to the forefront. Richard was hurrying to his aid, the Sword of Truth at the ready, biting like righteous steel into their flesh.

The Mother Confessor - may the spirits damn that white dress - was like a beacon, drawing their swords and their arrows. Her knives flashed, weaving under their blades and plucking the life from their bodies.

"There she is!"

The cry came from one of the attackers, ringing roughly above the clang of swords and the grunts of exertion. It seemed as if the chaos introverted. The attackers point-blank dropped whatever battle they were engaged in and converged on Cara, hacking with their swords and their lances and their maces. She fought them off, her Agiels a scarlet blur. They went down screaming, pain twisting their hearts to a stand still.

Cara raised her left arm, her Agiel stopping the path of a broadsword aimed for her skull. With the other hand, she maneuvered under the arm of another man, aimed for his heart, her love for the deep-seated need to kill driving her Agiel. On the outskirts of the attack Richard and Zedd struck at the attackers' backs, trying to cut through to Cara.

A knee to someone's nose.

An Agiel to a skull, elbow to a jaw.

Kick.

Punch.

Agiel.

Soft, tender flesh - break it. Snap it. Tear it.

For what seemed like an eternity, that was all there was, the glory of a brawl, the luxury of doing something with her hands. It was exhilarating.

But suddenly, there was something else. Another presence at her back. The men around her seemed to be cut down faster.

Boot to the face - crush the skull.

Agiel to the temple - unconscious. Boot to chest, dead.

Agiel to the heart -

A short dagger protruded from the man's chest. His eyes bulged directly in front of her, and he fell. The attackers were scattering at that point, too many of them having fallen, calling for their friends to join them, not even bothering to grab any wounded still alive. Richard made to run after them, but Zedd grabbed him by the arm.

Cara whirled, the man she had been about to kill dead across her feet. He had a short, curved sword in his left hand that she hadn't seen. All her attention had been on the club in his right hand. He had been about to kill her. He would've succeeded.

The Mother Confessor strode past her, silent for once. She bent and, with a stony face, removed her dagger from the man's chest. "You should be more careful, Cara." she said, lifting her eyes only slightly. "We can't afford to lose you."

Rage and something else permeated Cara's mind. She didn't need this insane protection - she was Mord-Sith.

But the man would've killed her.

She wasn't afraid to die - this life had been cruel to her. Death was something she understood. The Mother Confessor hadn't needed to save her. She didn't need to be careful.

Why did she feel like she should thank Kahlan?

Cara had never thanked anyone in her life. Kahlan had done her no service. But she felt like she had. She didn't want to die, she realized. She didn't even want to think about it. And that was unacceptable.

"What did he say?" Richard asked, his breath coming hard. "The one who yelled. What did he say?"

Kahlan's voice was impassive as she turned each body over, searching for any sign of life. "He said 'there she is'. He was pointing at Cara." She glanced up at the Mord-Sith.

Richard looked from Cara to Kahlan. "What? Why Cara? Why wouldn't they be trying to kill you, or me, at the very least?" He peered at Cara, as if waiting for an answer as to why such a large group of men would've been sent to kill her.

Cara glared. "Why are you looking at me? How am I supposed to know why anybody does what they do?"

At that exact moment, a man on the lip of the hollow stood, clutching the wound to his side. With labored breathing, he began to run, half-hobbling. They heard him stumble through the undergrowth.

Somehow, Cara couldn't take that. She couldn't let one escape.

"Cara, no!"

It was Kahlan's voice, and that only pushed Cara harder. She was out of the hollow within a second, running the man down. He seemed to find his stride when he saw her and moved faster, glancing back, panting. Her run to the campsite and the fight were taking their toll.

He emerged in a huge meadow, and stumbled again. Cara closed the distance between them and raised her Agiel, all her rage at her recent inherent confusion, her sudden desire to live to be old, and most importantly the infuriating Mother Confessor channeled into the magical weapon.

Something glinted in the air, and Cara's blood ran cold. A knife, inside her guard, making its way to her throat. In desperation, the man had slung his arm toward her, and by a fluke of the spirits had picked the exact right second. The world seemed to slow down. Every second was a day, and Cara regarded her situation with frustration.

So this is how it ends.

What will Richard do without me?

What will I do without him?

She would never know what would've been, who she could've become. After the Keeper was trapped she could've done what she wanted, roamed, traveled, free of any bond or allegiance. But no more.

After all her battles, all the men she had killed, everything she had done, she was to die in this field, her throat slashed by an amateur mercenary with a crude iron blade. It was almost comical, when she thought about it. Had she had the time, she might've laughed.

The world came back into focus and she braced herself for the blow - but instead she felt herself being knocked to the ground.

There was a tumble and a sharp pain in her forehead. She was tangled in something, and blood was running down into her eyes. She couldn't see, could barely hear past the rushing in her ears...

Thunder with no sound.

The impact jarred her very bones, like every part of her body aching with a sudden bout of rheumatism. Something hard butted into her cheekbone. She flinched, her arms flailing, unable to open her eyes to get away from the soft fabric that was encasing her -

Light behind her eyelids. Someone dabbed the blood away from her eyelids. "Cara? It's me, Kahlan."

She just couldn't leave well enough alone, could she?

Cara batted her hands away - spirits, but they were so gentle - and jolted up. Her head swam. She looked around for the man she had chased. He was dead, for sure this time.

"The Confession killed him." Kahlan said, as if she knew what Cara was thinking. "He spent his last bit of will trying to slay you. After that, he had no strength to live."

There was blood spattered across the Confessor's dress, bleeding through from the inside. So that was what had trapped her. The Mother Confessor had knocked her over, her forehead just nicking the knife meant for her throat, and Cara had become tangled in the trail of her dress. Kahlan had saved her yet again.

XXX

That night, Kahlan watched Cara as she slept. Her breathing was surprisingly easy. Zedd had applied some medication to her wound and bandaged it, saying it would be all better come morning. Cara seemed un-bothered. Since the incident in the meadow, she had barely said a word. Kahlan rarely knew what Cara was thinking, but her anger and any other powerful emotion was always apparent. Never had she seemed so... cold. Cara was a person of heat and passion, whether it be rage or undying loyalty. She had never put up walls so complete and icy.

But that was the only word for what was happening now.

And it was driving Kahlan insane.

She didn't know what to do. She was confused and she didn't like it. All she knew was that she had to protect Cara no matter what, or it would all become unbearable. The rise and fall of the leather-clad chest gave her comfort. What had happened today could not happen again.

Kahlan wouldn't let it, if she had to travel to the Underworld herself and put Darken Rah in his place.