Too many close calls. However, they were, like many things, of two edges, so to speak. Her nose crinkled, temporarily interrupting her smirk. Trianna didn't much care for swords. Her fingers trailed to the agiel that wasn't hers. The hissing of it eased the Mord'Sith. A little.

The agiel echoed in the small tunnel, curses for every wizard to ever exist falling from her lips, but Elysan in particular. Trianna didn't know why the wizard had to be based in such a dark hole. And those noises. They were worse than rats in the walls. Rats. Her thoughts turned. Trianna wanted the knowledge that someone had her back, that her Sisters were with her. The slavers would betray her in a heartbeat, if ever they realized she couldn't fight them all. And the wizard? His magic was no use against her, yet she was expendable. Still expendable.

She sighed heavily, trying to ignore the sudden bustling noises within the walls. In reality, Trianna was entirely alone without a single clue what to do except try to gain some power. The agiel was screaming, but she wouldn't let go. Even if she went to another Temple, it wouldn't work. Mutiny followed by getting her entire Temple destroyed, her Sisters killed? Keeper damn it all, Trianna hadn't been alone since she was a little girl. Now here she was, pathetically trying to find something to hold onto. But it didn't matter, did it? Her Sister was going to kill her. Her very exceptional Sister.

She wondered if being alone bothered Cara at all.

"Ah, Trianna, I almost didn't hear you come in."

Only years of training kept her from physically jumping in surprise. She needed to die or find a Mord'Sith. Being alone and hunted made her think too much. "I'd be worried if you really heard me."

Mirthless laughter answered her. "Yes, you Mord'Sith are quite capable, in some cases."

Agiel screaming in her grasp again, she focused on its noise. She had traded Cara's haughty authority for this wizard, what a deal. Finally, he descended the steps from the upper area of the cavern and met Trianna's glare with a smile that should have been handsome on so young a face, but it only sent a chill down her spine.

"Tell me, what brings you here?" Elysan's dark eyes glittered as he ran a hand through his equally dark hair, the motion making his robes rustle.

"The Seeker and Confessor are crawling all over the place. We need to do something. Now." Whether pride or fear kept her from mentioning Cara, she didn't know.

"There is no need for concern."

"No need?" The fool just didn't know the wrath that lurked out there.

Elysan gave that empty smile again at the sight of the Mord'Sith's hand suddenly tightening on her little toy. Again. Desperation and fear were seizing her. She'd be of little use if it wasn't taken care of soon. "Correct. It isn't time yet."

The agiel whipped out, stopping just inches from his neck and screaming in anticipation. "I'm beginning to think you're wasting my time."

"Not at all," he replied easily. "But for your sake, we'll move to a less interesting place. Go, watch over the old man until someone sends for you."

Trianna smacked him across the face, enjoying the whine of the agiel, and turned on her heel without waiting to see the result. Even as she traveled through the tunnel, she could hear the echoes of his laughter. They both knew her display of power was just that—display. There was something so very wrong with the man. So very disturbing. And he was too young to be so magically gifted, so in control of his powers.

Then again, there was something very wrong with a lot of her life lately. But if she held out, soldiered through it, the meaning of her life would come back. And with it, everything a Mord'Sith needed. There would be sense and order, there wouldn't be this loss inside of her. If she could just hold out a little while longer.

"You, Seeker!"

Richard started, his hand drawing his sword as he turned, trying to be mindful of the cramped area of the tavern. There was something familiar in the frenzied manner of the man and he didn't seem hostile. Richard didn't sheathe his sword.

"You're a friend of my mistress." The man stopped a small distance away, albeit hesitantly.

He sighed in relief and sheathed his sword. The man was confessed. "Yes, I'm Richard."

"You're here to help."

"Well, yes."

The man nodded. "We need to clear the town."

"What?"

His brow furrowed, confusion laced his voice. "You're here to help."

"I just need directions."

"Then you're not here to help."

Richard backed up slightly. "I need to stop—"

"My mistress wouldn't be happy." The man shifted, staring at the floor as if it held the answers to life. Then, "I don't know what she wants."

"For you to help me." Richard rested a hand on his sword. The man was getting frantic.

"I need to talk to my mistress," he murmured. Just as Richard was about to speak, the man's head jerked up. "If what should be my mistress' enemy is her ally and gives me orders, I'll help you." He nodded, more so to himself than Richard.

"Your mistress' enemy?"

"My mistress calls her by name." He added, in a small breath, "Strange."

He could only think of two enemies Kahlan called by name. One being in the Underworld left one guess, though he found himself hoping he was wrong and his voice came out harder than he meant it to. "Is her name Cara?"

"Maybe."

"You're not sure."

"Does my mistress call any other Mord'Sith by name?"

"No." It was Richard's turn to shift uncomfortably. "How did they seem?"

"I thought you needed directions."

"Yes, but I'm trying to help."

"But you're not doing anything."

Richard took to pacing. He only had so much patience. "I need to know if they're safe so I can just find the other Mord'Sith."

"They're in dangerous lands with slavers roaming and people want to kill them."

"Just tell me how they were toward each other!"

The man cocked his head. "My mistress scolded the Mord'Sith for hitting me with my sword."

Richard stopped entirely, too exasperated to pace. "What does that have to do with anything?

"If my mistress didn't like the small blow from what should be her enemy, she wouldn't want you to hit me."

He started pacing again, hands locked behind his back. If anything, the man's comment made Richard want to hit him. The shortness of his patience worried him. Or the man was that irritating. No, he knew the main source of his emotional state. "Tell me how they were or give me directions."

"You don't want both?"

Luckily, the bartender cut in. "The Confessor's Mord'Sith followed the other one down the path to the right of here. You can get a horse from around back, too."

"Thank you," Richard breathed, unclasping his hands.

"Now I can answer," started the Confessed man again, ignoring the way Richard twitched. "They look like enemies facing a mutual enemy."

Richard all but fled the tavern, muttering about the man's comment as he mounted a horse. The tracks were slightly disturbed, but he didn't have much trouble following them, though at a much slower pace than the previous travelers of the path. After a while, the prints grew frenzied and he dismounted. He almost wandered into the forest, but something caught his eye. Some of the tracks were cleaner than the others. He knelt down for a better idea of them before letting his eyes follow them. They were boot prints, following after a frenzied horse. And they came from the forest. Cara didn't have a reason to go after the horse.

"Smart," Richard said, opting to follow the prints on foot rather than the horse. He led the horse on quietly, almost sorry for the Mord'Sith he was tracking. She might have deceived Cara, doubling back out the forest to the path, but in the brief time he spent with her, he learned something undeniable about the woman.

If Cara wanted something, it was hers. And if someone crossed Cara, that someone was going to die.

Richard mused over it as he walked, finally letting his horse go, though regretfully. It had been his only companion for a little over an hour and the near silence amplified the fact he was alone. It troubled him, realizing he hadn't really been alone since stumbling across Kahlan. And she was off with a Mord'Sith while he tracked another. Funny how things worked out. But before that, had he really been with her? Her attitude had shifted and he felt something deeply off about her. The familiar fear that Kahlan didn't truly hold feelings for him made his insides cold. But they'd been getting better, hadn't they? Even then, he decided it better to wait until whatever problem she had was over so that he could mention some things to her. Some of how she treated him just wasn't acceptable. The Seeker of Truth—Lord Rahl if he took the throne, though the power in his blood prodded his heart, wanting release—dismissed like a, like a nobody. Just as heat sang in his veins, his stomach let out a growl. A glance told him that evening had stolen over him without his notice. That explained why his eyes burned with effort at keeping up with the prints.

His stomach growled again and he continued on until the tracks curved into the forest. "Just a little longer," he said, rubbing his abdomen.

In the encroaching darkness, Richard strained his eyes for proof of the Mord'Sith's passage. A loud growl sounded as he went and he willed his stomach to be patient. Richard wiped at his tearing eyes, having an increasingly harder time making note of any tracks. "Just a bit further." Really, here he was blundering about while Kahlan was with a Mord'Sith. What were they doing anyway? The last time he'd seen them together, Kahlan looked ready to pass judgment on someone that personally destroyed her life, and Cara hadn't done anything to her. It was always so strange, the role Kahlan had. He couldn't wait until she could pass her title onto a different Confessor.

Fervently rubbing his eyes, he became dimly aware he'd stumbled into a clearing of some size. His hands froze. It was too quiet. Richard cursed himself, reaching for his sword and opening his tired eyes to see men grabbing their weapons.

One charged him, but the man was careless and his axe went flying from the Seeker's almost too slow deflection. Taking advantage of the opening, Richard ran the man through with his blade. As he fell, there was a better view of the Seeker's enemies, patient and advancing on him as one. He couldn't fight them all, but he couldn't run either.

An eager man made the decision for Richard, jumping forward. Again, he took the role of defense, but managed to knock the man back as another attacked. Richard repelled that man too, slashing at another to keep him at bay. Only luck had his sword in the way of a slaver's mace, but a sharp pain bit into his side anyway.

If it weren't for his sword, his entire side would have been destroyed. But Richard didn't get to worry about it further because something hard connected with his jaw, knocking him down. His darkened vision dotted with light as his fingers flexed, trying to grip a sword no longer there.

"Let's get 'im to the Mord'Sith."

There was a grunt, a boot striking his face. Darkness washed over him.

A slight mixture of a huff and a grunt issued from Cara as she stoked the fire. Something shifted just within the light of it. Her eyes snapped to it, only to roll and return to her charge. Well, her other charge. She refused to stare at the other one. Again.

"Cara," came a soft voice, muddled with sleep and something unsettling.

Was she confused? Maybe she hit her head or something. Cara only stoked the fire.

Then Kahlan jerked into a sit, eyes wild and hair ruffled as she looked around. Cara watched out the corner of her eye, not caring for the Confessor to notice but unsure if the woman would be hostile or not. Finally, she spoke. "Cara?"

"Confessor."

She shifted, settling her hands in her lap before moving to sit across the fire from Cara. "You let me sleep into the evening." Receiving no indication the woman heard her, she continued, gesturing to the fire, "The food smells good."

Cara only grunted.

Silence descended upon them as Kahlan didn't seem to want to try for more vain attempts at conversation. Normally, Cara would be grateful for it, but it bothered her. Rather, the damned woman's fidgeting bothered her. While true the Mord'Sith—strangely—didn't feel compelled to kill the Confessor, the disturbed silence made her want to fight for the sake of normalcy. For the sake of anything at all.

"Do you have a problem with rabbits," she asked gruffly, still not looking up yet paying attention all the same.

"Not at all. I'm starving." Kahlan adored the small creatures, but she wouldn't mention something to be perceived as a weakness to this woman.

She took the spit from the fire, setting it aside to cool. "There wasn't any real game nearby," and as if in afterthought, "Slavers."

Kahlan nodded, looking about them with a distinct frown. "I'm sure the slavers have terrorized the animals as much as the people."

"Meanwhile your stomach terrorized me," was the not too quiet reply.

Kahlan's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"Eat," she said simply, standing to dust herself off. "I'll patrol."

Words hung on Kahlan's tongue as she watched Cara take a third of the food and walk off. Such a strange Mord'Sith. She mused over it while eating, respecting that the woman simply hadn't wanted to be around her. Kahlan should have felt the same, but she was too tired and knew Cara needed her as much as she needed Cara. So there was nothing to worry about.

For as long as Trianna lived, anyway. She heaved a sigh over her situation before focusing on the food alone, grateful the woman left a majority of it.

Restful sleep and a belly full of food. All thanks to a Mord'Sith, though she knew it was only so she'd be useful. When that usefulness ended, she imagined one of their lives would end as well. But for the time being, they needed one another. Cara had made sure of that by preventing the man from giving her information, though she could've gotten it then if she really wanted to. Maybe they'd talk about it when she got back from patrolling. Kahlan snorted. She half-hoped the Mord'Sith would ignore her until morning. Tiredness still clung to her, despite sleeping half the day away. Actual sleep, too, not the restless sleep plaguing her for weeks. Maybe months. Strange. Stranger still, it was in the presence of a Mord'Sith and in dangerous territory. But stranger yet, the Mord'Sith in question. And herself, too. The Mother Confessor in need of a Mord'Sith, and vice versa? She missed her fellow Confessors.

Movement. Instinct prompted Kahlan's fist to swing out as she reached for a dagger with her free hand. The blow connected and she brought her dagger around, but a strong hand caught her wrist. Kahlan swung her free hand but the intruder again trapped her arm.

And she found herself staring up at eyes barely distinguishable between the darkness and blonde hair, but they were unmistakable nonetheless. She relaxed her limbs and they were released.

Cara stalked away to sit across from her, making no comment, giving no indication that anything happened at all. Kahlan combed her fingers through her hair, trying not to look as wild as she felt. Her eyes strayed to her quiet companion. The woman looked into the fire without expression, a distinct tightness in her jaw. Though the silence weighed Kahlan down, uncomfortable and thick, words evaded her. An apology was out of the question, but there was the question of why she'd even considered it. Must've been the goodness of her heart.

Despite her best efforts, blue eyes kept falling on the unmoving Mord'Sith. Opting to abandon these efforts to look for changes in Cara, she sighed at her own tiredness. The shadows cast by the fire gave the illusion of a dark patch of skin near her neck, but parts of it moved. Just shadows. But maybe if she kept staring, it'd provoke the woman. Anything was better than this living silence.

"Patrol was clear."

Kahlan's brow twitched upward, uncertain if she imagined the speech. But it was Cara's voice, as stiff as it had been. Never mind that she hadn't moved at all. "Was there any trouble while I slept?"

"Yes."

A feeling of guilt crept across Kahlan's conscience. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"What?" Either Cara didn't care to elaborate or wasn't sure if she wanted to. It was likely the former, though it didn't matter. Kahlan's brain wasn't as muddled as before. She just felt better. Not the epitome of health, but she'd been a wreck lately and she knew it. "The slavers were meeting to check in and we interrupted whatever it is they were going to do today."

The seeds of quietude started to sprout, only to be stepped on. "Someone will probably come tomorrow."

"If it was truly important, they'd come close to dawn. What do you think?"

The woman's eyes flicked to Kahlan as though she made a joke of asking her opinion. "Dawn, noon, somewhere in between." Cara shrugged, moving to stoke the fire.

"So you are injured!"

"What?"

Kahlan's eyes were too focused on the darkness creeping from beneath the woman's leathers to notice the look of violence on her face, even as she moved closer. "Your shoulder."

"Where are you going? What?" Green eyes glared at Kahlan's hand as it motioned for her to scoot over. "No. Go away."

Kahlan kept standing next to her, trying to figure out a diplomatic way to go about this. Even after Cara huffed and ignored her, looking into the fire again. Why did this matter? "Cara, I need to know if your injury will put us at a disadvantage."

"It is not an injury, Confessor. It happened before I saved you from the ambush, so there is no need for this. I am Mord'Sith. If there is a disadvantage, it would be you."

Between the sheer amount of words Cara directed at her and the insult, there wasn't much she could say. Well, she did want a reaction from the woman… "I'm a disadvantage?"

"Nice to see you're aware of it," Cara muttered, still not looking from the fire.

"In what way?"

"In the way it means you're not entirely stupid."

"What, stupid as in getting my allies to beat me and leave me to die?" Kahlan jumped, surprised at how quickly Cara was in her face. She wasn't sure the woman was even breathing, only aware of the smoldering green eyes, wild with fury. But neither of them moved, refusing to break the blistering eye contact.

The fire flickered, growing smaller, but it was ice compared to Kahlan's furious blood. She'd almost forgotten how infuriating the woman was, how her very presence unsettled her. Her voice was softer than the fire. "I only have to touch you to kill you."

A smirk twitched about Cara's lips, her voice as low as Kahlan's. "So then touch me."

Kahlan lifted a hand, lifted it almost imperceptibly each second as the fire died down to the barest of flames. Never breaking eye contact, watching for Cara's movement only to find none. Finally, the fire took its last breath, leaving them with only the light of the moon. Hard blue eyes burned into glittering green ones. The mischief there, of all things, made her blood travel faster. She checked again for some response from Cara. Nothing. Neither of them flinched when Kahlan's palm settled on the Mord'Sith's skin. Her fingers wrapped around Cara's throat and her eyes flicked back to the green ones. Studying her, challenging her.

"Have you forgotten how to do it, Confessor?"

Cara's voice excited Kahlan and her grip tightened just a little, marveling at holding someone's life in the palm of her hand. Someone not begging for their life, but daring her to take it. Her power swirled within the depths of her, pressing against its confines and bidding her for release. But it was quieter than when she'd held Richard's throat, less desperate. Tame, even in its excitement. "I'm just surprised you're so willing to give into me."

"As was I." Seeing the confusion in Kahlan's eyes, she pressed the hand more firmly against her throat. "Seem familiar?"

Indeed it was. Twice now, Cara had pressed her, proved Kahlan held violent rage inside of her just waiting to get out. Proved she couldn't—wouldn't—Confess her. "After this…"

"I look forward to it, Confessor." Cara stepped away from her as if there wasn't the possibility of her death just a moment ago.

Kahlan's fingers twitched at her side, feeling strangely empty, missing the feel of Cara. Missing the feel of holding someone's life. There was something different, some missing aspect compared to before, with Richard. Cara's voice tore her from her thoughts.

"Wake me in a few hours."

Even she could hear the distance in her voice. "When are you going to tell me about what's going on?"

"In a few hours."

"After that?" She watched Cara settle down to sleep, facing the other direction.

"Then you sleep. Can't have you being a disadvantage."

"Shouldn't you sleep longer, then?"

"Not even death can give me a long enough reprieve from you."

Kahlan didn't start the fire again, just sat against a log in the dark. Didn't want the fire because then she could see clearly. No, she'd settle for staring into the dark. And, occasionally, at Cara. And as she stared, she placed a name on the missing factor. Rage. No. When she'd held Cara's life in her hand, the rage was there. But it was different, less... something.

Or perhaps it was more.