Elloreah cried out in her sleep, distracting Mingan from his work. She writhed for a moment before sitting, gasping and wild-eyed. Glancing around, her gaze finally settling on Mingan. The only light cast by the ember of his cigarette.

"It was not a dream," she whispered.

"No, it wasn't," he agreed.

She leaned forward, burying her face in her knees, muffling a few soft sobs of pent up emotion. Her draw pulled at him, and some part of him felt for her, ached to sympathize with her loss. They didn't have time for self-pity or grief. Not yet.

"You'll reopen your stitches," he grumbled.

She lifted her head, wiping at her face, her gaze averted. "I should be stronger," she muttered. "This ordeal should be nothing..." the tears welled in her eyes again, and she dropped her face once more.

He flipped his book closed with a snap. "Then stop."

She rested her chin on her knees, blinking away tears and nodded. "I just want to go home," she sniffled.

He narrowed his eyes at her, willing to play the villain in order to put her on guard. If he could goad her into anger, perhaps she would put on the strong front he'd seen earlier.

"This is nothing, as you said. Shouldn't you be delighting in the opportunity for devastation that your people bring to my world?" He took a drag off of his cigarette, watching her reaction out of the corner of his eye.

"Devastation?" she questioned, her tone sharp. There. That was the reaction he'd been hoping for. He fought back the urge to smile at her show of spunk.

"We are the Fair, the Light..." she continued. "The Ethereal would do no such thing. That is what I spent years in battle fighting against." It was sad addition to her little prideful speech.

"Battle?" He asked, taken aback. He knew so little about the Ethereal, and the more time he spent with her, he wondered at all he thought he knew. "You don't strike me as battle hardened a fighter," he caught himself before adding, more like a spoiled white girl.

She rubbed anxiously at her arm. "I was part of the cavalry."

He noted the use of past tense and wondered if there was a reason she no longer thought herself part of this cavalry.

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"There are few that have not fought in our ongoing battle with those who would overrun all the lands with darkness," she confessed, softly. "It was only thanks to my training that I was able to hold off those monsters when I arrived here..." she sighed. "Had I a proper weapon, they'd not have lain a hand on me."

He smiled, remembering her skill and grace as she attempted to stave off her attackers. Had she been armed, properly attired, prepared, he had no doubt she would have given the Bear Clan a challenge. "What is it you do when not fighting this war?" he asked.

"I longer fight," she said, somewhat wistfully. "I take care of my father's lands."

She had calmed considerably as they spoke. It was no wonder she was so distraught. She had responsibilities, a home and land of her own to care for.

"There's only a few more hours till dawn," he told her pointedly. "Rest." He flipped the book back open.

"What are you working on?" she asked.

"A glamour, or spell to hide what you are."

"Like the one that hides your eyes?" she asked.

He studied her with renewed suspicion. "What do you mean?"

"Your eyes, they glow with power. They are brighter now, though..." she said softly, studying him.

He returned his attention to the book. "It'll fade soon enough. A remnant of drawing on the magic I used to heal you."

She nodded, considering him. "Your magic, it is linked to the wolf presence I sense. It is somehow part of you and yet not..."

He glared at her. "I am both wolf and man. That is all you need to know," he said with finality.

"Thank you, for your efforts to help conceal me in this world," she said, averting her gaze from the intense gold glow of his.

"It is my job. Well, part of my job, making sure that rogue Mythics like yourself do not give away our existence." He flipped through pages once more. He was close to a viable solution. "You are a nymph, or something similar?" he asked, brow furrowed as he considered.

She hesitated, holding herself tight as she nodded. "Yes," she confessed. She took a deep breath. "I would prefer not to discuss such things more than necessary though..."

"So you possess some of the powers of a nymph, though you are clearly one of the Ethereal?" He asked again, tapping his book. "It'll be hard to settle on the right runes if you can't give me some more information."

"I am tainted by the blood of the dryads, one of the wild fae." She rubbed anxiously at her right arm again.

He noted this nervous gesture of hers. It was not the first time she'd rubbed at that arm, in that place on her bicep.

"But the glamour that hid my shameful linage dissolved once I crossed into your world. I would hide myself, tamp down my powers if I could, but I am unable to cast or use the spells here. There is no magic to draw upon and the spells of my homeland do not seem to work."

"I'll take care of the basics. You'll have a new glamour once I've enough light to test the runes. John can do the fine tuning when we get to the ranch."

If she'd been less cooperative, he would have put a general seal on all her abilities. He knew a few powerful runes that could make even the most savage Mythic beasts unable to tap into the magical reserves of this world. It was these crippling spells he used on his occasional jobs for the Tutelar, apprehending traitors and trespassers. He did not wish to cripple her. It seemed cruel after all she'd been through. He only hoped he did not end up regretting his choice to be lenient with her.

"Now, get some sleep Elloreah," he said with a firm note of finality.