Some time later, Erin awoke with a small yelp. Someone had just given her a painful kick on the left leg.

She looked up, blinking.

A Mataith was standing over her, holding a stick with an indistinguishable lump on the end. It was dark enough now that she could barely make out the shape, let alone what the object was. He grunted something at her and shoved the lump up to her mouth. Erin recoiled and stared at it, bewildered. Then she glanced at Arturyn. The dim light coming from the fires in the Mataith camp was enough to see that he was awake and watching her.

“He wants you to eat it,” he said quietly.

“What is it?”

“Don’t ask. Just eat.”

Erin gulped, her insides squirming unpleasantly at the thought of what Mataiths might consider appropriate food for prisoners. The Mataith growled at her impatiently and nudged her roughly with his foot. Not knowing what else to do, Erin took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and bit into the lump on the stick. It was slimy and rubbery and had a metallic, slightly salty taste. Erin chewed a couple of times and then forced herself to swallow. Gagging, she looked back at the lump on the stick. There was a depressing amount of it left. Willing herself not to throw up, she leaned forward and took another bite.

By taking small bites that she could swallow quickly without chewing, she somehow managed to force the entire thing down in a matter of about five minutes. The Mataith feeding her was already snarling at her, apparently wanting her to hurry up and finish, before she was halfway done. When she had pulled the last bite off, he threw the stick aside and stood there staring at her for a long moment. Then he said something in his harsh language and laughed before turning and walking back to the group.

“What…what did he say?” Erin asked, her stomach churning in protest.

“Believe me, you don’t want to know,” Arturyn replied, eyeing the retreating figure of the Mataith with an expression of great dislike. “It was…extremely crude.”

“And what was that thing he made me eat?”

“You probably don’t want to know that, either. And actually, I’m not sure myself. I tried to pay as little attention to it as possible when I was eating mine. Let’s just say it was a part of one of those animals they killed that they didn’t want to eat themselves.”

She grimaced and didn’t pursue the subject.

A half moon was rising over the hills beyond the lake. Its silvery light illuminated a thick layer of fog building on the water’s surface. The temperature had dropped considerably since the sun had gone down. Erin shivered a little as she shifted her position, trying to get more comfortable, though with little success. Her wrists and arms ached from being bound around the tree, and her hands were cold and numb.

She watched the moon slowly ascending, and a painful lump rose in her throat as she thought about the last time she had looked up at the moon and stars, when she had been safe in Kirchel’s house.

It seemed like a very long time ago.

All at once, she found herself with her head bowed low, shaking with quiet sobs, while warm tears dripped down her cheeks. She had tried to be brave, tried to keep her head and think rationally about the horrible situation she was in. But all at once, it was just too much. The dark, unfamiliar landscape. The crowd of ruthless and inhuman creatures in front of her, bathed in firelight. The thought that she might never see her home and family again. It was simply so unreal…and so unfair….

She bit hard on her lower lip, trying to hold back her tears. She didn’t want Arturyn to know she was crying or to hear any more of his grim expectations for their future. But the thought of what he had already told her only increased her sobs. She was cold. She was uncomfortable. Her entire body was stiff and aching. She was terrified. And, in spite of Arturyn being tied up next to her, she felt more alone than she had ever felt before in her life.

Erin looked up suddenly, tears still streaming down her face. A strange feeling had just come over her—the feeling that someone was nearby, watching her.

She shook her head slightly, her sobs reducing to sniffs, and looked around, blinking the tears out of her eyes. There was no one near her, other than Arturyn, who was sitting motionless with his eyes closed and his head resting against the trunk of his tree. He seemed to have fallen asleep.

She looked back in the direction of the lake, her gaze running along the edge of the cliff as far as she could see in both directions. She could see only the Mataiths, who were now sitting relatively quietly around their campfires. Some of them were lying on the ground or reclining against logs they seemed to have taken from the forest.

There were no other living creatures in sight. But she had the distinct feeling that someone else was there, watching from the darkness.

A sudden shout rose up from the Mataiths, making Erin turn her attention away from scanning the shadows beneath the trees on the edge of the forest. Many of the Mataiths had stood up, and they were looking to Erin’s right, down the sloping cliff edge, at something she couldn’t see. Several of them were pointing and talking excitedly. To Erin’s disquiet, a number of them glanced toward her and Arturyn with looks of hungry anticipation.

She looked over at Arturyn. His head was up, and she could see him watching the scene intently.

“What is it? What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, his gaze still fixed on the camp. “You remember I told you that they wouldn’t do anything more with us until their chief arrived?”

“Yes. But you said they didn’t expect him for another couple of days.”

“Well…” Arturyn said slowly and somewhat reluctantly. “It seems that he’s arrived sooner than they expected.”

Erin stared at him for a moment. Then she swallowed. “That’s…that’s not such a good thing…is it?”

Arturyn shook his head silently.

They both watched as a procession of Mataiths came into view from the right side of the cliff, marching towards the camp. They carried torches and weapons, and at their head rode an especially large and vicious-looking Mataith, mounted on a large shaggy animal with long horns that reminded Erin of a musk ox. He dismounted at the edge of the camp, and two other Mataiths hurried forward to take hold of the animal’s reins and lead it over to a nearby tree, where they tied it up and started removing the saddle and packs strapped to its back. Its rider, who Erin assumed must be the Mataith chief, strode into the middle of the camp and spoke to the Mataith who seemed to be the leader of the smaller group—the one who had been in charge when they were torturing Arturyn. As the second Mataith began to reply, Erin glanced at Arturyn, hoping for a translation.

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“He’s reporting on what his band has been doing since they split off from the main group,” Arturyn said in a low voice, having seen and correctly interpreted her look.

The leader of the smaller group was now gesturing toward the two of them, and Erin guessed he was explaining their capture. The chief looked over at them with an amused expression. His gaze rested rather longer on Erin, and she thought she could see his grin twist sadistically as he looked at her. He said something to the group leader, gave a bark of laughter, and started toward where they sat.

Arturyn and Erin just had time to exchange a fearful look before the Mataith chief was in front of them. The rest of the Mataiths were watching eagerly, and many of them came closer to see better.

Moving to Arturyn first, the chief growled something at him and struck him hard across the face several times. The gash on the left side of his face pulled open and started to bleed. The chief said something in a derisive tone. Then, with a cruel laugh, he turned to face Erin.

It was only with a massive effort that she stopped herself from cowering as he bent over her, a kind of vicious hunger gleaming in his eyes. He reached behind the tree, and she felt him pulling the bond roughly from her wrists. Then he gripped her arm and yanked her upwards.

The force of the motion, along with the stiffness in her legs from sitting on the ground for most of the day, threw her off-balance, and she fell forward against the Mataith chief. A stench like the combination of wet animal hair and decaying flesh filled her nostrils, and she could feel the hard bulge of muscles through his clothing. His body was strangely hot—much warmer than normal human body temperature.

She tried to pull away from him, but he had her in a tight hold. He dragged her out away from the tree. He was speaking to her, and glancing up, she saw his jagged yellow teeth bared in a mocking grin.

She felt one of his hands running over her body. It started to move underneath her tunic, and she instinctively began to struggle against him, squirming and kicking. But she was like a rag doll compared to his bulk, and her fighting seemed to have little effect on him. She could hear him and the other Mataiths laughing at her attempts to break free.

A flicker of anger shot through Erin’s feelings of fear and desperation, and she increased her struggling. She was not going to give up or give in. Maybe she couldn’t stop him, but she wasn’t going to make it easy.

The chief was now holding her arms tightly against her sides, preventing her from punching or scratching him. Kicking at his legs and feet seemed to be useless. As he leaned close to her, his hot, putrid breath on her face, Erin struck back at him in the only way she knew how—she lunged forward and sank her teeth as hard as she could into the skin over his jaw. A sudden warmth and foul taste in her mouth told her that she had drawn blood.

The Mataith gave an angry snarl and shoved her away from him. She managed to stay on her feet, but before she could take a single step, he dealt her a heavy blow to the right cheek. The force was enough to actually lift her off the ground, and she landed face down in the dirt several feet away.

Erin raised her head with difficulty, feeling dazed, and spat out a mouthful of blood. In addition to the chief’s blood, a fair amount of her own was now running into her mouth and down her chin. It felt like her lower lip had been sliced open on her teeth when her face hit the ground. The right side of her face was almost numb from the Mataith’s blow, but she could feel a stinging pain where his claw-like fingers had torn into her skin.

Looking up, she saw that she was facing away from the Mataith camp, toward the strip of land running between the forest and the cliff edge. There were no Mataiths directly in front of her, which allowed her to see that the mist coming from the lake had risen over the cliff and was spreading into the forest and around the camp.

Erin blinked and stared. Her gaze was slightly out of focus from the blow to her head, but she thought she could see a dark figure through the mist, silhouetted by the moonlight, standing near the cliff edge just beyond the firelight.

“Wraith...?” she whispered thickly.

But a pair of hands had taken hold of her and were forcing her over onto her back. The Mataith chief’s face swam above her, one cheek smeared with dark blood from where she had bitten him. She struggled weakly, but he was on top of her now, pinning her to the ground.

Then a sudden, loud roar cut across the shouts and laughter coming from the Mataith camp.

The chief looked up, momentarily distracted from Erin, though he maintained his grip on her. A hush fell over the camp, as the entire group looked around, trying to see what had made the noise. Most of them, including the chief, seemed to be looking along the cliff, toward the place where Erin had seen the figure standing in the mist.

Pinned as she was, Erin couldn’t see anything. But with her body pressed against the ground by the weight of the Mataith chief, she could feel the vibrations of huge footfalls coming towards the camp.

A moment later, there was another roar and the sound of something very large crashing through bushes.

The chief was on his feet in an instant, pulling Erin with him. He dragged her along as he moved quickly toward the camp, shouting orders to the others.

Summoning the last of her strength, Erin dug in her heels and fought against him, trying to break free. He snarled at her and tried to keep pulling her along, but after a moment, to her surprise, he let go of her and ran to join the rest of the Mataiths, who were moving away from the direction of the roars and forming a tight group.

The abrupt release caught Erin off guard. She lost her balance and fell backwards, landing in an awkward heap on the ground.

A third roar split the night air, much closer this time.

Erin turned her head just in time to see a massive figure emerge from the fog, moving rapidly along the forest line toward the camp. As it came into the firelight, she was horrified to recognize the low-slung head and black-haired body.

She was between the sethien and the Mataiths, and she huddled, terrified, on the ground as it came near her, sure she was about to feel its sharp claws tearing into her body.

But then, incredibly, the sethien had run past her without a glance, heading straight for the group of Mataiths. Erin stared after it, stunned.

Suddenly, someone had hold of her arm and was pulling her to her feet again. But it was a gentler grip than the Mataith chief’s had been. The hands were smaller and softer.

Looking around, Erin saw that a much smaller figure than the sethien had appeared from the mist and was standing over her. This figure was the size and shape of a human but was covered in a dark cloak that prevented her from seeing exactly what or who it was.

As soon as Erin was standing again, the cloaked figure began leading her toward the forest. As they neared the tree where Arturyn was still bound, the figure released Erin and hurried forward. It bent down behind the tree for a moment and then came around to face Arturyn as he moved his arms slowly out in front of him, having obviously been released from his bonds. The cloaked figure took hold of his hands and helped him to stand. He swayed unsteadily but remained upright.

“Len sira tinalas?” Erin heard the figure say quietly. The voice was too low for her to be sure whether it was male or female.

“Lo seh viel,” Arturyn whispered.

“Milas gan lo.”

The figure pulled Arturyn’s arm around its shoulders, and they took a few steps together, Arturyn leaning heavily on the cloaked figure for support. When it was apparent that he could walk, at least after a fashion, their rescuer beckoned for Erin to follow, and the three of them started moving away from the camp, keeping in the shadow of the trees. Erin saw the hooded head in front of her turn briefly to look behind them, and she turned to look as well.

A fierce battle was raging between the sethien and the Mataiths, and it was hard to say who would be the final victor. Quite a few of the Mataiths already looked wounded or dead, but the sethien’s dark coat was shiny with blood, and what looked like the handle of a spear was protruding from its right shoulder. Its roars of pain and rage and the Mataiths' shouts and screams were echoing strangely in the surrounding fog.

Shivering, Erin turned her gaze away from the gruesome scene and limped after Arturyn and the cloaked figure, into the cover of mist and darkness.