Chapter Sixteen

Elsa wasn't sure how long they ran. All of her concentration was given to keeping track of the others, keeping that "other" snow out of their way, and keeping Snofonn steady in his panicked flight. On an instinctive level she was vaguely aware of positions shifting. At first she was following Krokus's lean hindquarters, but at some point those were replaced with Sven's fluffy ones. Krokus had moved to run alongside Snofonn, head snaking to keep her terrified horse on course. Trees appeared suddenly even with Elsa clearing the air, seeming to advance like enemy soldiers. The mounts twisted and swerved repeatedly to avoid collisions. If Snofonn swerved too far from Sven's course, Krokus would appear on the off side, snapping at the other horse's side. Kristoff and Beorne clung like burrs to their mounts' necks, dark blurs against a world gone white where Elsa's snow did not clear the way.

Snofonn's sides had begun to heave with strain before they finally began to slow. A darkness loomed before them, then resolved itself into the rocky shelter they had used for lunch. Elsa allowed her exhausted horse to slow to a walk, then a stumbling halt. His head hung low and his ribs pulsed with great gasps that flung her legs outward with each intake of air. She immediately slid off his steaming back, spinning to face the way they came even as her feet hit the ground.

Nothing pursued them. It didn't mean nothing would.

Only vaguely aware of the men dismounting, Elsa raised her hands. There was no absence of response from the snow and ice here. All rose to her command. Soft chimes filled the winter air, a strangely calming melody that played counterpoint to the blood-pounding percussion of the winded mounts' panting. Within moments a thick wall of clear ice began to form around the outcropping of rock. A second wall formed beyond that, but with a heavy rime of frost that turned it nearly opaque. There were entrances to each wall, but they did not align. Regular small gaps between the rock and ice allowed the passage of air.

Not as elegant as her ice castle, but then fortresses rarely were.

Elsa dropped her hands, chest heaving. Her entire body felt weak, almost drained. Was it the ebbing of the panic, or was she that unused to larger exercises of her magic?

Or was she still trying so hard to process what she saw? Or what she thought she saw?

"We've got to walk them," Kristoff said, his voice strange against the pulsing gasps of their mounts. He pointed to Snofonn, who was beginning to fold his legs. "Don't let him lay down!"

Startled by the mountaineer's commanding tone, Elsa didn't hesitate in shaking Snofonn's dangling reins. The horse snorted and jerked his head, straightening his legs. The look he gave Elsa was pure torture.

"He's right," Captain Beorne said, his own voice ragged. "They'll founder if they lay still after a run like that." He slid off his horse, but before he could take a step Kristoff's words halted him.

"You, build a fire. They need warmth as well, especially once they start to cool down. We all will. Give me her reins, I'll walk her and Sven both."

The Captain blew out his mustache, then nodded once, slowly. He handed over his mare's reins, studying the mountaineer as he did so. Whatever he saw chased away his doubts. Without any further hesitation, he moved to the wall, pacing along the side of it to look for wood. Elsa moved both walls further out, curving them so they continued to touch the rocky outcropping. He glanced at her, nodded again, and proceeded to gather twigs from exposed bushes and fallen limbs. When he was done, he moved closer to the rock wall and proceeded to build a campfire.

Elsa moved the walls a little closer in, although not as close as before. Walking the exhausted, shaking mounts took space and patience. Snofonn especially kept wanting to stop and fold his legs. Even Sven walked with his head almost to his knees, sucking air in through his mouth until a small ribbon of drool began to form on his lower lip. Kristoff kept up a soft, murmuring patter to both Sven and Krokus, gently urging them to each slow step.

Exhaustion began to creep into Elsa's very bones. She wanted so much to just sit down on the ground, letting her legs fold like Snofonn kept trying to do. Only awareness of what that would do to the horse kept her upright. Her mind kept trying to touch on what she had seen out there, then would veer sharply away. Soon the only peace she had was in listening to Kristoff's cajoling tone.

"There's a good girl. That's it, keep it going. You too, Sven. I'm gonna get you so many carrots once we're back at the castle, you know that right? You were amazing. You both were. That's it. Easy now. Small steps. Slow's ok. Just keep moving. On step at a time. C'mon, there you go..."

The snap and crackle of a living campfire gradually crept into Elsa's fogged awareness. Woodsmoke stung her nostrils, causing her to check the air vents. Assured that the smoke was drifting outside enough to not poison them, she then turned her head to see Beorne crouched by the modest flames. He would occasionally poke a stick into the wooden cone he'd made. Once in a while he pushed another small branch into it, causing the flames to briefly leap higher.

It took a while for the heat to build. By then the animals' heads were hanging almost to their hooves. Finally Kristoff nodded. "Okay, let's take off their gear. Wish we had something to rub them off with, but..."

Beorne began shrugging out of his jacket. At Kristoff's puzzled glance, he said, "As long as I stay by the fire, I'll remain warm enough. It may not work well, but perhaps it will help somewhat." He handed the jacket to the mountaineer, then lifted his saddlebags from Krokus.

The two men had their mounts completely unpacked and unfettered while Elsa was struggling to simply remove Snofonn's saddle. The wound in her arm, forgotten in the headlong flight, was beginning to make itself known again. Her entire arm throbbed, a dull ache that spiked into brilliant pain each time she rotated her shoulder or flexed her bicep.

Beorne's hand on her unhurt shoulder frightened her enough to create frost along his arm. Startled, he snatched his hand back and tried to shake the frost off.

"I'm sorry!" she said, making the frost melt away with a hasty gesture. "I just-"

The Captain shook his head. "No, forgive me, Your Highness. I should not have startled you, especially after…," he paused, then took a deep breath and continued, "I just wanted to see to your arm. Kristoff, would you finish taking care of Snofonn while I see to Queen Elsa?"

"Of course," the mountaineer said, readily moving to Snofonn's side.

"I-" Elsa started to say, lifting her hand. It was the wrong arm to do so. Pain lanced its way to her fingertips and up to her neck. Hissing softly, she held the injured arm close to her.

"Please, my Queen," she heard Beorne gently plead, "move closer to the fire. And… is there a way you can… I will need to see that arm."

Nodding, Elsa did as he bid, taking a seat by the campfire. The fire's warmth was welcome to most of her exhausted body, but it caused the wound to throb with more enthusiasm. It took a moment of fuzzy thought before she could focus enough to alter her outfit. Even so, she ended up removing both sleeves of her jacket, rather than just the one.

All three of the humans hissed, and even Sven made a soft, startled snort.

Teeth marks scored her flesh just above the elbow. They weren't terribly deep, but blood still oozed from the larger holes and the flesh was already swollen red. The size roughly matched a human's jaw, but the pattern of the teeth reminded Elsa more of a dog's bite. She found herself vaguely wondering if a bear's bite was similar to a dog's, since the snowbeasts' heads seemed slightly more ursine than canine.

Beorne pulled his saddlebags closer to him before sitting down next to Elsa. Although she interacted with the man on a nearly daily basis, she couldn't recall ever sitting so close to him. She could smell the musk of his sweat-soaked skin, feel the press of air between them. As he bent his head over her arm, she realized she could smell his hair, too. There was a distinct difference between the scent of his hair and that of Anna's.

She was still puzzling over that difference when his fingers touched the skin near the open wounds. Pain flared, bright and fierce, causing her to clench her teeth and suck in air. Beorne glanced up, anguish contorting his face. "I am sorry, my Queen, I didn't mean… I don't want… but I have to..."

Between clamped jaws, Elsa hissed, "I know. Do what you need to do, Captain. I will bear it."

He studied her quietly a moment, his walnut brown gaze flickering over her face. Gradually resolve crept into his own features. "This will hurt more," he warned, "but I need to clean the wound."

Kristoff's voice distracted Elsa from the bottle Beorne pulled from his saddlebags. "Kinda surprised you know how to dress wounds," the mountaineer commented, then hastily added, "Uh, if I'm distracting you, I'll shut up."

Beorne glared briefly at Kristoff, then flicked his gaze to Elsa's face. The expression in his face softened, and his tone, when he spoke, was as gentle as when the mountaineer was speaking to the animals. "No need. We could use the distraction of conversation." Popping the bottle open, he took hold of Elsa's arm and ever so gently stretched it out until her bicep was level to the ground.

The wound burned as he moved her arm, careful as he was. Elsa gritted her teeth and concentrated on the men's conversation rather than the bottle that was beginning to tip over her bicep.

"I care for my men," Beorne continued, answering Kristoff's statement. "I'm no surgeon, but I can dress minor wounds and tend to shock, at least. I can even set simple breaks."

Liquid poured from the bottle and hit the open wounds. Fire exploded along Elsa's arms. She couldn't quite stop the small cry that escaped her throat, or the way she tried to jerk her arm protectively to her side. Beorne was prepared for the motion, however, and gripped her wrist tightly. Regret twisted his face even as he poured more of the burning liquid onto Elsa's arm.

Amidst the fresh pain, Elsa could hear Kristoff talking in a too-casual tone. "Glad you had supplies in your bag. I'm too used to getting what I need from the mountainside, and, well, that's not exactly accessible at the moment. Plus, I'm more used to treating my own wounds. Treating someone else… that would be… odd. Doable, but odd."

Beorne's own casual tone was completely at odds with the regret that twisted his features. "I wondered how much herb-lore you knew in regards to tending wounds."

"More than most, thanks to my family," Kristoff said, his voice shifting as he moved between mounts. A steady scrubbing sound could be heard beneath the fire's insistent crackle.

"Your family… the rock trolls?" asked Beorne even as he poured a third round of liquid. Elsa slammed her teeth together, determined this time to not even whimper. Her nostrils flared with the effort. The Captain continued talking. "I still find that difficult to believe."

"Eh, you'll believe if you ever meet'em," Kristoff answered easily enough.

"Unlikely, although I would be… fascinated… by the opportunity. Ah, there," he said, his eyes on the liquid dripping from Elsa's arm. "Now for the poultice. This will also hurt, but not as much as before. I hope." Reaching once again into his saddlebags with his free hand, the other still holding fast to Elsa's wrist, he continued to Kristoff, "I am surprised they know enough of humans to advise you of proper herb-lore."

"They like caring for things," Kristoff said, not offended by Beorne's obvious doubt. "Part of why they adopted me and Sven. They observe a lot, and do what they can to help any ailing thing they come across."

Elsa dared to speak, although her voice was somewhat breathless from the pain. "They sound like a good family," she said. She tried to not look at the gray paste Beorne was scooping out of a jar with his fingers, instead looking to find the mountaineer.

"Oh, they are!" Kristoff said cheerily, moving around Krokus. The mare was stretching out her neck, enjoying the attention. Snofonn had finally been allowed to sink to the ground, his coat still somewhat spiky from rubbing. Sven stood nearby, head lolling as he seemed on the verge of dozing off, his back still visibly soaked. "Of course," the mountaineer continued, "I could be biased."

It occurred to Elsa that this conversation was amazingly superfluous, considering how close they had come to death, and how Feilan had stayed –

Dull pain erupted in her bicep again. Beorne had begun applying the poultice as gently as humanly possible, but the wounded flesh still protested any sense of pressure. Elsa hissed again, feeling her stomach heave and her vision dim.

"Almost done, my Queen," Beorne coaxed. "Now we just need to bandage it. This will hurt at first, but ease after a bit." He reached again into his saddlebags, pulling out a roll of cloth strips. With practice ease he unrolled a length of it, then proceeded to wrap Elsa's upper arm. She gulped air and pounded her other fist into her knee to keep from crying out. Even Kristoff fell silent, concentrating on Krokus rather than watching her struggle.

"There," Beorne finally announced as he tied off the bandage. "Done, and well done, my Queen. I've had soldiers that passed out with less than that." Pride and regret both showed clearly in his face as he studied her. "How… how are you feeling?"

"Dizzy," Elsa answered honestly. She concentrated on breathing, slow and steady, to quieten her rolling stomach. Turning her head cautiously, she tilted her arm to study Beorne's work. The bandage lay tight and smooth against her skin. The poultice underneath both stung and felt oddly soothing. Even the throbbing pain was ebbing to a dull ache. "Excellent work, my Captain," she said. Letting her back slump a little, she shook her head. "How did we come to this place again? Chance, or…?"

"I brought us here," Kristoff said as he moved to Sven. His jacket was now in his hands, while Beorne's jacket lay near the fire. Elsa could see it was coated in horse hairs. Krokus, her coat now as spiky as Snofonn's, shifted her weight off one hind leg and let her muzzle droop almost to the ground. Not looking at either Elsa or Beorne, Kristoff concentrated on scrubbing Sven's thick coat with his own jacket. "After we started running, I saw something familiar in the landscape, then it clicked. I may not be sure how to get to the castle from here, but I can tell where we've been."

A heavy nod was Elsa's only answer. She was beginning to doze off when Beorne took her hand. Opening her eyes, she watched as he placed something in her palm, too fascinated by the feel of his calloused skin on hers to say anything. Opening her fingers, she saw it was some of the dry field ration bars. Lifting her gaze to him, she tilted her head.

"Please. You need to eat something," Beorne pleaded. After a moment, he turned his head to Kristoff and added, "We all do. Eat, then sleep."

Kristoff moved away from Sven, pausing to rub the reindeer's muzzle before settling beside the small campfire. "Want me to take first watch?" he asked. "Y'know, like you said before?"

Captain Beorne shook his head. "No. I'll take first watch. You take second."

The mountaineer nodded and accepted the ration bar Beorne handed to him.

Something important tried to push its way through Elsa's increasingly exhausted thoughts. Her teeth were busy on their first bite of food when it came to her. "Watch out for Feilan," she commanded. "She… she might make her way back here." In what form was unknown, she thought, but did not say.

"Of course," Kristoff responded easily even as worry creased his brow. "Man, I hope she's ok. Why would she run off like that?"

"Distraction," Elsa said through her mouthful.

"How could she possibly hope to distract those monsters?" Beorne scoffed, then shook his head. "Unless they were trained to her… but then, why have them attack us only to then make a show of defending us?" He ran fingers through his hair, causing some of it to stand on end. "It makes no sense."

"Well, something caused those animals to turn on each other," commented Kristoff as he bit off a hunk of his own bar. "And if it was Feilan… well… we owe her."

"I suppose," the Captain said reluctantly, staring at his own bar.

"Enough," Elsa spoke. Her eyes kept drifting shut. "We are too exhausted to discuss this. Rest while we can." Looking to Kristoff, she ordered, "Wake me a few hours before dawn. I will take watch then, as well." Both men began to sputter protests. Queen Elsa silenced them with a slice of her good hand. "Enough. We have all suffered on this journey. I will do my part, as both of you need sleep as much as I."

Kristoff blinked several times, looking so much like a stunned reindeer that Elsa had to keep herself from laughing despite her exhaustion. Beorne simply shut his jaw with a click. That odd expression of pride and regret crossed his face again, but softer this time.

"Yes, my Queen," he said quietly. More firmly, he said, "Now… the two of you, lay your bedrolls and try to get what sleep you may. Kristoff, I'll wake you in a few hours… sooner if I cannot stay awake, later if I am too wakeful for sleep."

The mountaineer nodded, reaching for his bedding even as he shoved the last of his bar into his mouth.

Elsa fetched her own bedding, refusing the men's help as she laid it out with one arm. As she settled down to sleep, she thought that it would be difficult to achieve with two snorers and no camp of fifteen other soldiers to help ease the stark sound.

It was the last thought she clearly had before exhaustion claimed her. Sleep was long, dark, and heavy. If she dreamed of more than memories, she did not know it.

Awareness came in slow waves. A light pressure to her back. A gentle rocking motion. A sound repeated gently, over and over, until it resolved itself to a recognizable word.

"Elsa."

With the recognition of her name came the realization that someone was gently poking a finger into her back, firmly enough to rock her body a little. She had fallen asleep on her good side, to shelter the wounded arm. It occurred to her to be grateful that the person had not grabbed her by the uppermost shoulder.

"Elsa, wake up."

Elsa blinked her eyes blearily. She recognized the male voice as Kristoff. It took a moment for her brain to register the extremely dim light that filtered through her ice, and even longer to recognize the gray shapes it outlined. Light snores marked Beorne's sleep. Heavier breaths came from the larger shapes, horses and reindeer. She rolled over a little so she could peer up at Kristoff's face as he leaned over her. His features could barely be seen in the false dawn light.

"Thought you'd wake me sooner," she mumbled.

"Couldn't sleep," he whispered. "Thought you could use the rest. Also thought you'd be mad if I let you sleep the whole night." A pale flash of teeth marked his grin.

She started to run a hand through her hair, but it was the wrong hand to do so. Pain throbbed in her upper arm. Dropping her arm with a hissing chuckle, she said, "You thought right." She sat up carefully, eyes turning automatically to the inner wall entrance. "No sign of Feilan?" she asked quietly, even though she knew better.

Kristoff's playful grin vanished, turning his face to shadows once more. "No. Nor of the other horses." She heard more than saw him turn his body towards the entrance as well. "Those horses won't survive out there on their own."

"But Feilan will?" Elsa muttered.

"She's a mountaineer. As long as she's not hurt..." Shadows rippled as Kristoff shook his head. "I just… as awful as it sounds, I keep hoping she just ran away. That would mean she's okay, at least."

Elsa stared at her ice wall, remembering a small figure running towards the snowmonster… then a snowbeast running towards the same monster. "I don't think she did," she said very softly.

"But what else could she do?" the mountaineer said, his voice climbing just enough to make Beorne snort in his sleep. Immediately dropping his voice, Kristoff continued, "I mean, she did say she scared one off with fire before, but…?"

The Queen merely shook her head slowly. Two snowmonsters… no, snowbeasts… fighting among the trees. Then the third… With a sigh, Elsa carefully pushed herself to her feet using her good arm. "We will look for her… and the horses… and my missing men… as we may, once we are recovered. Until then… all we can do is watch."

"And wait," Kristoff grumbled.

"I will wait. You need to sleep," commanded Queen Elsa. "You've done your turn. Now try to rest."

"I'll try." He twisted to peer at Beorne. "He tried to take second watch, too. Luckily I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. Made him go to bed."

"And now it's your turn," Elsa coaxed, a bit of sisterly lecture creeping into her royal tone.

"Heh, ok, ok, fine." He held up his hands in surrender, then moved to his bedroll. He fidgeted for a few moments, then stilled. A few minutes later, the first rumbles of his snores began.

That'll help keep me awake, Elsa thought to herself. She turned her gaze back to the inner entrance. Her mind kept twisting to that impossible moment when one form changed for another. She caught herself trying to reason it away. She was remembering it incorrectly, or the snow had swirled at just the right moment to confuse her sight.

Yet even as her brain struggled to apply logic to what her eyes had seen, her heart cramped with a bright flare of hope.

Someone else who had magic. Maybe not magic like hers, but magic none-the-less.

Her brain perversely seized that train of emotion-laden thought and ran with it. If Feilan had magic, then she could still very well be the cause of these storms. Then the question became, did she know what she was doing? Should they treat her as someone to be taught, or someone to be caught?

Of course, that's assuming she really had magic.

Elsa moved to cradle her head in her hands, but her wounded arm twinged in pained protest. Dropping her arms, she had to admit to that much. Feilan had bitten her when Elsa tried to lift her to Snofonn's back. The bite on her arm did not match a human bite. She tried to remember if Feilan had unusual teeth. That led her to trying to remember if Feilan had ever smiled enough to show teeth.

Her brain seemed determined to run in useless circles. More and more, she was convinced that the answers had to come from Feilan.

Which meant Feilan had to return.

Had to.

Which made the hope flare bright in her chest again. It hurt, that hope. To meet someone magic like herself…. But what if that person proved to be an enemy…?

Elsa leaned her head back against the rock, eyes on her ice wall and the growing light of dawn beyond it. She was a Queen. She was used to multi-faceted politics. Smiling faces hiding wicked knives, or wrinkle-inducing frowns that hid stalwart allies… those were all part of the court's dance. Discerning whose expressions were true and whose were not was a skill her parents had taught her early on… and the need to hone those skills was driven home by Hans.

So why was she having so much difficulty with this?

That hope flared, brilliant and painful, cramping her chest, twisting her vision.

It even seemed to dim her vision a little, creating a large dark shape that moved along her outer ice wall. Even as she tried to focus on it, it seemed to shrink, growing smaller and sharper.

Closer.

Approaching the outer entrance.

Elsa bolted to her feet. She heard Krokus and Sven snort, then a moment later Snofonn's low, nervous whinny. There was a clatter of hooves as her horse shoved himself upright. That lead to both men snorting themselves awake, muttering incoherently. The shadow outside paused, then began to grow larger and indistinct.

Going away.

"No," Elsa gasped. She snatched a blanket from the ground, possessing just enough thought to use her good arm, then ran for the inner entrance. She could hear the men's voices grow louder, words becoming more distinct, even as she darted and twisted to follow the pathway between the walls.

Outer entrance reached, she grabbed hold of her ice to help her make the sharp turn. Dawn light stabbed at her eyes, temporarily turning the world a pale gold color. She could just make out the human-sized shadow moving among the trees.

"Feilan!" she yelled.

The shadow paused.

Elsa stood there, blanket held to her chest with her good arm as she panted. Her bad arm throbbed in time with her heart and lungs. Her chest ached. Hope hurt.

Ever so slowly, the shadow turned to face her. Light brushed over features, revealing the round, sharp-boned face of their guide. Shaggy hair fell every which way, looking more like a bird's nest than a mane. Leathers that appeared to be smudged with dirt still wrapped the woman's smaller frame. Feilan edged closer, averting her face as she did so, until she was only two body lengths away.

Behind her, she heard the clatter of the men entering the narrow pathway. Feilan's head jerked up like a startled deer. Queen Elsa reached through the doorway to hold up a single palm. Both men paused, strangled questions choked between their lips.

"You came back," the Queen spoke with deliberate calm.

The mountaineer's head twitched, apparently torn between keeping a wary gaze on the ice wall entrance and averting her face from Elsa. "Had to," she said, so softly it was difficult to hear her. There was no trace of the peasant accent. "Wanted… wanted to make sure you... all of you... were ok. Didn't know if… if you saw..."

"I saw… something," Queen Elsa stated in a flat tone. Feilan lifted her head briefly to meet Elsa's eyes, then just as quickly looked away again. Irritation tangled with that hope in Elsa's chest. Focus on something, she thought fiercely to herself. Aloud she said, "You're clothed."

That earned a startled blink from the small mountaineer.

Mentally kicking herself, Elsa hefted the blankets. "I wasn't sure if you would need these."

Slowly that shaggy head swung back and forth. "Clothes... don't... ah... I… don't feel the cold so much. Kinda like you." Again she dared to look at Elsa's face. Just as quickly, she looked away again. A foot slid backwards in the snow. "But not really," she added in a soft mutter.

Damn that hope. Anger at herself edged Elsa's next words. "Come inside. We have a fire going. Food."

Feilan hunched her shoulders, daring a glance from the corner of her eyes. "You… you'd still have me…?"

"You distracted them so we could get away." Another statement, delivered in tones that made it a proclamation.

"I, well, ah, tried..." The light was increasing ever so slightly as they stood there. The dark stains on Feilan's leathers looked now to be more liquid than dirt in nature. As the mountaineer fidgeted, it became more apparent that she favored a leg and an opposite arm. "Kept'em busy… sorta..."

The Queen interrupted her. "You're wounded."

Feilan startled, curling one arm closer to herself even as she leaned more on the other leg. "I, well, a little..."

Queen Elsa gave one sharp nod. "Then come inside. Let us see to your wounds."

"I… but… don't you have… questions? Concerns?" Puzzlement was forcing Feilan's gaze to meet Elsa's. Her eyes were brown, with no trace of gold to them now.

"Many," Queen Elsa stated, "but those can wait. For now… we're tending to our wounds. Resting."

Feilan's gaze darted to Elsa's arm. "Wounds?"

"Superficial," Elsa said. "Now come inside."

Booted feet shuffled in the snow. "I'd ruther answer yer questions out here," Feilan muttered, the accent creeping back.

The Queen shook her head once, decisively. "No. We're all of us still too tired. You will come inside. Now." She moved aside so there was a clear path to the outer entrance. A glimpse of movement told her Captain Beorne and Kristoff were backing up to the inner entrance.

The smaller mountaineer hesitated… then obeyed the Queen. She shuffled past Elsa, head down and shoulders hunched. There was a moment of panic as she saw the men waiting within, but even as she took a step back the Queen moved in behind her. Feilan flinched, then moved forward again.

"Hey!" Kristoff greeted, his tone friendly even as his facial expression bespoke confusion. "Welcome back! Glad you're okay! You didn't happen to see the horses, did you? The strings?"

Head twisting to look from the stern Captain to the taller mountaineer, Feilan mumbled, "Ah, no, tried b'couldna find'em. Was lucky t'find ye'all." The accent was back in full force.

Captain Beorne frowned deeply, pulling the edges of his mustache down. "How did you escape them?" he demanded.

"I… ran at'em. Made noise." Feilan glanced over her shoulder at Queen Elsa, then stared at her own boots. "Distracted'em."

"How," the Captain began, but was halted by the Queen's upraised hand.

"See to her wounds first, Captain, if you would," Queen Elsa requested. "Let her eat. Let all of us rest a bit more. Then maybe we'll be better able to ask the right questions." Privately, she wished that time would allow that chest-crunching hope to ease and not warp her perception. She knew the answers she wanted to hear. She had to make sure she was open to the answers she needed to hear.