Sarum, Desmond, 10416 P.C.

Annabella had survived many close calls in her life. One time she had camped out in the thick branches of a tree, using a rope to secure herself while she slept. She had woken up to find a squadron of soldiers camped beneath her tree, oblivious to her presence. She had stayed put for several hours until the soldiers packed up and left. Another time she had been spotted near the Whispering Falls and had outrun the soldiers by jumping off the waterfall and being swept by the current into an underwater cave with a small air pocket. Again, she had stayed there for several hours before she decided it was safe enough to fight the current back out. Yet another time, she had truly been captured by a group of bandits, only managing to escape because they hadn't searched her for hidden weapons.

All of those times had, in their own ways, been terrifying. This time, however, there was so much more on the line. It wasn't just her life in danger.

Annabella kept her eyes closed as she heard the soldier searching the cellar. She didn't dare to move; she barely dared to breathe. If he moved the sack of potatoes and found the door...

It must have only been one minute, but it felt like an eternity to Annabella before she heard boots thumping away. "There's nothing down here!"

The rush of relief that flooded through Annabella was exhilarating. She stayed still as she heard the soldier climbing up the stairs. The trap door closed. Annabella breathed deeply, loosening the tight grip she had on Bethany and letting the little girl crawl away to her bed to fetch her ragdoll. Annabella, whose muscles now ached from being so tense, pulled her knees up and rested her forehead on them, reminding herself over and over to keep breathing. That had been far too close.

She didn't know how long she was paralyzed in that position before she heard the familiar patterned knock on the panel. She turned and opened it, revealing Tamara's slightly blanched face.

Tamara spoke first: "They're gone."

"Tamara, I'm so sorry, I just really wanted to see you and—"

"Annabella, shh." Tamara crawled inside and pulled Annabella into a hug, rubbing her back comfortingly. Annabella felt the urge to dissolve into tears, and she shoved it away. She wouldn't cry, but oh, she couldn't remember the last time she had been held so lovingly.

Probably by Luke.

"All that matters is that you and Bethany weren't discovered," Tamara continued.

"I shouldn't have come here in the first place."

"And yet here you are." Tamara held her back at arm's length, her eyes searching Annabella's. "Why? You haven't been to Sarum in such a long time. I was worried that something had happened to you."

"A lot has happened. Too much to explain now. I'll get right to the point." Annabella took a breath. "For a while now I've been having dreams. Visions, I think." She lowered her voice. "The Deliverer is coming."

Tamara's eyes narrowed urgently. "Are you sure of this?"

"Very. The Immortal One told me in this vision that I'm supposed to accompany the Deliverer on his mission. I'm supposed to go to the Hinterlands. That's where the Deliverer is — or will be. The visions weren't exactly clear."

She could see the doubt written across Tamara's face. "Are you sure this wasn't a dream created by wishful thinking?"

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

"This was real, Tamara, I swear. The Deliverer is coming. I know it!" Annabella put her hand to her forehead, feeling the heat the close call had created. "I can't stay here. I've already put you both in too much danger. Are they gone?"

"I don't know for sure. I waited an hour, but they still could be watching the house. They didn't believe my story of it being me coming back in from chasing the alley cats out of my garbage can."

Annabella ducked her head. "I shouldn't have come to Sarum at all. I should've gone straight to the Hinterlands."

Tamara tapped Annabella's chin with a finger, coaxing her to look her in the eyes. "But you did, and despite the dangers, I've missed you terribly, little sister." Tamara's eyes danced over Annabella's face. "You've matured so much."

Annabella melted back into Tamara's arms, letting Tamara stroke her hair. "I'll be seventeen in two months," she said, trying to justify the changes in her appearance. Tamara was right: Annabella had changed. Her red-brown hair was becoming curlier, her pale face losing its childish look and taking on a sharper, stonier one that came with years of solitude, constantly on the run. Only a few times in the last few years had Annabella really studied her reflection. She knew her face was slim and long with a rounded chin and a nose slightly crooked from having been broken years before. Her eyes were hazel — like her father's, she had been told — and the brows above them were thick and dark. Her lips were thin, her teeth rather straight; there was a long, thin scar stretching from the middle of her left cheek to her ear and a birthmark near the temple by her right. Every time she saw herself, these were the things she noted, along with the weariness in her eyes, the bags beneath them, the stress-lines creasing her forehead, the fear, the bitterness, the hopelessness.

"Seventeen is still so young for such a heavy burden," Tamara whispered, and Annabella knew she was right. Sixteen, seventeen, it made no difference. She was far too young for this life of fear and pain. And yet, she thought, any age was far too young.

"Is there any way I can help?" Tamara asked after several long moments of silence.

"I don't want to—"

"You're not a burden. Tell me. I want to help."

Annabella sighed into Tamara's shoulder. "Food, I guess. Water." Don't let me go.

Tamara, unfortunately, could not read Annabella's mind. She pulled away. "Anything else? It's getting colder. A new coat? Gloves?"

All of those things were safely tucked away in the Hovel. Her winter supplies were well-worn, but still in good enough shape to last the season. "I'll be okay."

Tamara nodded, but Annabella could see that motherly worry in her eyes. Even though Tamara was six years her senior, she seemed to have aged many years in the one they had been apart. "Give me your backpack and I'll add to it for you," Tamara said. Annabella obliged. "Get some sleep," Tamara ordered. "You look exhausted. I'll be back in an hour or two, and you can set out then."

"Alright," Annabella agreed, acknowledging the weariness Tamara had pointed out in her. Tamara directed her to the mattress, where Bethany still sat clutching her ragdoll.

Tamara kissed her daughter's forehead. "You let Annabella sleep now, alright, Beth?"

"Yes, mama," Bethany replied, her voice hushed as she watched Annabella with those large eyes. Tamara left the room, and Annabella lay on the mattress, staring at the lamp on a little desk beside the bed, the only source of light in the room. She was exhausted, but she knew sleep wouldn't help. It was always restless, full of dreams and rarely peaceful.

Perhaps Bethany had somehow read her mind, for the little girl scooted closer to the bed and gently tucked the doll into Annabella's arm. "Her name is Leelee," the girl whispered. "She keeps the monsters away when I sleep. She'll protect you."

Annabella felt a rush of emotion well up within her. Bethany was so young and innocent, an Illegal like her, hidden away so as not to be taken by Motch. Had the girl ever seen the outside world?

Wordlessly, Annabella gave Bethany a kiss on the forehead. Then she collapsed back on the mattress, closing her eyes. Sleep took her.

No doll could keep away the nightmares that came.