Liam shook his head as she ran off and turned to look at Will. "Isn't there anything I can do to stop her?" he asked, which made Will smile a bit.

"Never know, Sir. She might turn back herself."

This made Liam smile a bit as he grasped his friend's shoulder briefly before going back to help the rest of the men. They were ready to go within ten minutes and Liam wondered if they could slip out of the kingdom quietly but Will convinced him to stay. He had to stay in his future mother-in-law's good graces, after all. So they waited for "I won't be long to take half an hour. Liam's eye was nearly twitching by the time Raquelle reappeared with horse and servants in tow, and he watched her being lifted onto the mare before posing gracefully. Like for a painting. Liam looked over at Will, who had an amused sort of exasperation on his face, before setting the caravan in motion.

It was a peaceful enough start, despite the grim reason for the journey. The men tried to keep the morale as high as possible and Liam conversed with Will. Everyone seemed to be wondering where Marshal Derrick was. The King had asked for him to join them but no one had been able to find him anywhere in the castle or the city. The Queen had told her husband that she had sent him out on a errand and it probably was taking longer than originally anticipated, but there was no reason to worry about an adept man like the Marshal. Liam had thought he had seen a flicker of annoyed rage on her face, but he had probably only imagined it.

They hadn't been more than two hours before he heard the sweet voice of Raquelle calling to him. She hadn't been the most quiet about her displeasure since setting off, but she was directly addressing him for the first time. She asked to stop for a picnic and Liam heard Will disguise his bark of laughter as a cough. The prince closed his own eyes, as if asking for strength before sharing a look with his friend. Then Liam looked back at Raquelle, smiling patiently. "Raquelle, we don't have time for a picnic. The King, your stepfather, wants us in Verinia as quickly as possible. We do not stop until nightfall when we make camp."

~~~

Alphonse looked a bit startled by her declaration, her forcefulness. Sam hid a smile as she moved over to the fire and sat cross legged on a rug, then looked back at his question. "I slept very well. Thank you for letting us use your tent by the way. You've all be very kind." Her eyes flickered down to August and caught sight of his grin before Coralie spoke up and Sam looked over at her.

"I have made up my mind," Sam said firmly, smiling as she leaned back on her hands. It wasn't the dwarves she was worried about convincing. It was Dorothea. She looked back at the Marshal when asked if she was going to take responsibility for him on the road and her eyes narrowed slightly as she considered it. "Yeah. I suppose I am." And she smiled at his reaction to the idea of being carried. Coralie's next words made the smile falter a bit and she looked at August's uniform thoughtfully. She was right. Having a guard of ally kingdom prisoner would not make a good impression, seeing how no one knew the queen of said kingdom was attempting to begin a war. Sam looked over at Coralie. "So we make it so we don't have an Eldonian guard prisoner." She looked back at August with half a smile on her lips. "He needs to loose the uniform. Have you three...acquired something over the years that he could wear instead?" She looked between the pair of dwarves. "Look it's either let him go, which isn't an option, or leave him here to either freeze or starve to death. And you guys have already said you aren't murderers."

Raquelle frowned deeply -- a beautiful picture of disapproval -- and she pressed her horse to gallop forward until she was riding alongside Liam. This, while riding sidesaddle, was no easy feat: she had no problem displaying her talents when it suited her. "You'll run yourself ragged, my prince," she said gently and with much concern. "Already you look pale."

Even as she rode, she pulled out a bag from the saddle and unwrapped it with delicate fingers. She pulled out a sliced watercress sandwich and held it out to him in its neat paper wrapping, one hand on the reins. "If we can't stop, then please at least eat something. You'll need your strength." She smiled at him prettily.

---

Coralie frowned. "Well I for one wouldn't feel terrible if he rotted," she declared. "If he'd 've just had the sense to die in the night, we wouldn't be having this issue."

"You don't mean that," Alphonse snapped, and he sighed. "I have some inconspicuous clothes I think might fit him. He could use some cleaning up, too, but we don't exactly have a lot of time." He glanced to Sam, removed his hat, wiped his brow on his sleeve, shifted his hat onto his head again, and sighed heavily. "All right, I'll see what I can do."

He left to search through his tent, while Coralie decided it wasn't her business and went back to wrestling with a bag that was too big for its fastenings. The Marshal was watching Sam steadily, with a mixture of interest and amusement, trying to figure out her intentions -- but after awhile he closed his eyes again, to save what strength he had left. If he would be expected even just to stand, he would need every ounce of it.

Soon enough, Alphonse returned with a bright expression, a folded armful of brown clothing clutched between his hands. "All right," he told Sam, "you'll have to help me untie him, bring him into my tent. Florian and I will clean him up and get him ready --"

The Marshal roared a protest through his gag, in a desperate attempt to communicate: "I am not an invalid!"

"All right, we'll guard you while you clean yourself up and get dressed," Alphonse sighed. "No tricks. Once you're finished we can discuss food and water."

The hate in the Marshal's eyes was pure, untainted rage. He would not take orders from a half-pint bandit. He could see the amusement in the dwarf's eyes, the pleasure Alphonse was taking in bossing around the marshal of the queen's regiment. August wanted nothing more than to twist his smarmy goatee'd head off his shoulders.

Liam sighed when he heard the sound of horse hooves speed up and fall into step beside him. He looked over at the concerned face of Raquelle and he grimaced at her words. She offered him the sandwich and he didn’t want to take it. He didn’t want to eat when his men weren’t. But he knew she would insist until he complied and with a sigh he reached out and took the sandwich.

He shared a glance with Will, who merely shrugged, and then took the offered sandwich and unwrapped the paper from it. He took a bite and chewed for a moment before swallowing. “Thank you, Raquelle.” He was silent as he finished the sandwich and then he crumpled the paper in his hand. “I’m sorry if I’m acting so short with you,” he told her, looking over. “This is just…very hard. For me. I can’t stop worrying about her and I promised your father I would bring her home.” Liam looked down at the reigns clutched in his face. “I have to find her.”

~~~

While Alphonse was looking for clothes for the Marshal, Sam could feel goose bumps rising on her arms. She knew that he was watching her and she gazed intently at the fire, forcing herself to not turn around. She didn’t look up until she heard Alphonse coming back with an armful of brown clothing.

Sam rose to help him untie August from the tree, but at the suggestion that the dwarf men would undress and clean him the man began bellowing something indiscernible at them. It made Sam hesitate, and she questioned if this was a smart plan. On the road he would have more freedom, more chances to kill them and escape. She had seen honestly on his face the previous night but what if it had been a trick. But she wasn't sure if she believed it was. A part of her believed he had been honest. And besides she couldn't leave him to die.

She stopped in front of him and knelt down, like she had last night. She met his hate filled eyes and narrowed her own. “If I take that gag off will you start screaming?” He looked like crap. Pale and tired and weak from a night spent outside. She wondered if he could stand on his own (she doubted it) and watched him warily as she pulled the gag out of his mouth. The fact that he had no weapons was only slightly reassuring.

Then Sam started untying August’s bonds, her fingers fumbling with the knots a few times before she was able to pull the ropes away. She took his arm and gently pulled him to his feet. She looked up at him, her lips pursed in thought. “You smell horrible,” she commented before leading him towards the tent. Once they reached it she pulled the flap back and she looked at the cat still curled on a pillow. “Hey princess, it’s time to get up now,” Sam said, not too loudly but with a meaningful tone.

Raquelle smiled sweetly, and she reached over and rubbed the prince's back. "It'll be all right," she said soothingly, as if speaking to a child. "We'll find her. If my dear sister is alive, we'll find her and rescue her. You and me. Everything will be all right."

She continued riding beside him as long and as far as they went, quite pleased with herself for being the shoulder Liam had to cry on. If she had to, she would make him cry. Tears of sorrow for the loss of Dorothea!

---

Having that gag out was the greatest relief. August coughed raggedly, and he remained calm, quiet and compliant as long as Sam was the one taking charge of him. He gave her no fuss and no trouble, not even a glare; he kept his eyes closed or on the ground, his anger deflated into exhaustion. She was trusting him, he understood that -- he had to respect her enough to trust her in return.

Alphonse watched the Marshal carefully, and only with a knife in one hand did he help to pull away the last of the ropes -- but as long as their prisoner was calm, he wouldn't say anything that might instigate a fight.

August leaned heavily on Sam, and his legs shook for the first few steps, until he could walk more readily. His shirt was caked in dry blood, and the gash from the Jockal's claw was raw and ragged. Sam made a comment on his stench, and he laughed under his breath. "You don't exactly smell like roses either," he breathed with a smirk.

He looked to the dwarf. "I need bandages," he said in a cracked voice, this time addressing Alphonse with a cool glare. The dwarf hesitated for awhile, reluctant to leave Sam without protection, but finally he bustled off to retrieve medical supplies.

Upon Sam's urging, Dorothea stretched, yawned, and opened her amber eyes -- then jumped sky-high when she saw the Marshal standing so close. "Sam! What are you doing? What's going on? Are you all right? Why is he here?"

Alphonse pushed his way in with a medical kit. "Okay, ladies -- sorry, Princess -- if you could please vacate the tent for awhile, the Marshal here would like to wash up and change before we leave --"

"Who's leaving?" Dorothea stuttered. "Him? Sam? What's going on? Why is he not tied up? Marshal, get your hands off her."

By this time, August had found his own footing, and he casually released Sam from his touch and strode into the tent, much to Dorothea's hackled displeasure.

Alphonse somehow managed to shoo the cat and Sam out of the tent, just as Florian arrived with a bucket of water and a bar of soap. The two dwarves remained inside to guard the Marshal with long knives pointed at him, and they closed the tent flaps behind them.

Dorothea sat on the ground and stared up at Sam, expecting a very good explanation for the danger she was sure they were all in.

Sam just gazed at Dorothea when she finally opened her eyes and saw what was going on. She had a completely innocent expression on her face, not feeling the slightest bit guilty of what she had done, nor what she was planning on doing. She allowed August to stand on his own when Dorothea ordered him to get away from her, though she was ready in case he fell over. He didn't, just strode further into the tent. Sam chanced a glaace over at Dorothea and could tell she was upset and confused. Oh boy. This was going to be fun.

She turned and vacated the tent, leaving August and Alphonse in the tent. She did pause at the doorway, glancing back at August. "Hey. Behave." Her eyes were narrowed seriously at him before she turned away and went outside, passing Florian as she went.

Dorothea was waiting for her outside, gazing up at her expectantly. Sam looked down at her, her arms crossed over her chest and a calm expression on her face. Not even a flicker of guilt passed over it. After a minute of this staring contest she looked away, glancing around the camp as she spoke. "It seems that the dwarves won't be the only ones accompanying you to the capitol. I'm coming, too." It wasn't stated like a question for permission, but a fact. And she was sure Dorothea would react most unhappily at this news. ""And we can't let the Marshal go, nor can we just leave him here to die. Or to potentially get rescued. So our only option is to take him with us." Sam fixed her gray eyes on Dorothea and her eyebrows rose a bit. "Do you have a problem with that?"

August returned Sam's frown with a who, me? smile, and the tent flap fell shut between them. Immediately his mood plummeted, and he gave the two armed dwarves a foul glare before he sat down to start work on his wound. By now Liam and his own men would be on their way to Verinia, and the queen will be pissed. He'd have to somehow make it right with Narissa while remaining true to his word to Sam. He believed now, firmly, that she was vital to the queen's destruction.

Dorothea's eyes widened as Sam spoke -- and by the time she had finished, the princess' mouth had dropped open. "Well ... uh." She was shocked. Stammering. Her tail fluffed. She sat up very straight and puffed her chest, forcing regal composure. "I'm glad you've decided to come with us," she said in a stately voice. "You would be invaluable, surely -- moreso than the dwarves, as kind as they are. I'm happy we don't have to part ways here, in such terrible circumstances." She paused, careful with her next words. "The Marshal --" her voice began to waver with hatred, and she cleared her throat. "I do have a problem with his coming with us. I very much would like to never lay eyes on him again." Her throat rumbled in a low growl. "But I don't have a better answer. We can't leave him and we will not kill him. We are not animals." She said this gruffly, in detest of her form. "Can you promise me that he can be kept under control?"

Sam felt a bit pleased that she had struck a royal speechless, though she hid the satisfaction from her expression. She smiled and nodded when Dorothea told her was glad she was coming. "I'm glad we're not saying goodbye yet either," Sam said, biting her lip momentarily while smiling. "Even though we met under some equally terrible circumstances, you've sort of become...a friend. If that's...the right word." She looked back down at her and raised an eyebrow. "Kind of the weirdest friend I've ever had. Sorry, no offense. That was meant to be a compliment."

She looked back at the tent when Dorothea brought up the Marshal, her eyes troubled as she wondered again if she was doing the right thing. It seemed so logical that he was tricking her, but her instinct kept telling her that he hadn't been lying. When she thought of how he'd threatened her she also thought of how he'd laughed at her jab about how he smelled. It was almost like he was two people, the Marshal and August. Sam feared the Marshal, but August...August she might possibly be able to trust. It was confusing and unsettling, but she had made her decision and she supposed she had to stick to it. She was tempted to tell Dorothea what he had told her. That he claimed to be working against Narissa, waiting to find her weakness. But she had promised him that she wouldn't say anything, and Sam didn't think Dorothea would believe it anyway.

Turning her head to look back down at the cat, Sam offered a small smile. "You don't have to talk to him, if you don't want to. I already told the dwarves that I would take responsibility for him. I don't know for sure if he can be kept under control...but I'll try. You don't have to trust him. Just trust me. Can you do that?"

Dorothea was quiet a moment while she stared thoughtfully up at Sam, considering her with the utmost seriousness. There was something different about Sam now. For the first time, Dorothea felt the difference in their age -- that Sam was very much her elder, with experience lived in a world she could never fathom -- a world of concrete and lights and noise that had made her head ache just running through it. Sam's own life had been threatened directly by the Marshal -- if she was confident in this, then Dorothea had no right to dissuade her. For all she knew, this sort of thing happened all the time in the world across the mirror. Finally, the princess took a slow breath. "All right," she declared, firm in her decision, "I trust you."

Coralie called them to breakfast, happily proud of the piles of eggs and hash that she'd managed to brown to perfection. Everything else was packed -- they should be able to leave soon.

After awhile, Alphonse emerged from the tent, followed by the Marshal, who had his wrists bound in front of him and was wearing the browns and greens of a common sword-for-hire. His hair was damp and the clothes were slightly too big on him, but he still managed to appear dangerous and in control. He thought about how easy it might be to wrap the rope around Alphonse's neck, take his knife and hold him hostage until the others did as he commanded -- but to remain prisoner here would do more to further his ends.

He gave Sam a cold glare, already considering her in charge, ignoring the princess completely. He held out his bound wrists. "I hope you're aware that this is a joke," he growled. He thought it was plainly obvious that only binding him this much was about as useful as letting him free.

Florian poked the point of his blade at the Marshal's ribs. "Just don't get any funny ideas," he said in deadly seriousness. The Marshal snorted in amusement and sat down by the fire, where Alphonse grudgingly handed him a full canteen. He drank half of it in a few thirsty gulps.

Dorothea stopped glaring daggers at him long enough to clear her throat. She looked to Sam. "We should arrive at the farm before mid-morning, then ride until nightfall. There's a small chance we might meet Liam's men on the road, but I believe we should have more than a few hours' gain at the least."

Sam nodded when Dorothea said that she trusted her. "Thank you. Your Highness." She grinned down at the cat and gave her a playful sort of wink. in her mind, however, she felt a strange sort of pressure. Sam hoped that she deserved that trust and she hadn't just made a huge mistake that could cost all of them their lives. She mentally shook her head. No. She hadn't made a mistake. Sam had to trust herself, and her instincts, and what her instincts told her was that she was doing the right thing. Sam couldn't allow herself to be plagued by self doubt, like she had every time she had ever taken a test in her life. She smiled to herself for a moment. Maybe if she got out of this and found her away home again she wouldn't feel so terrified to take the Bar. That test was nothing compared to this.

The tent's flap rustled behind her and she turned to see dwarves and August. His wrists were bound, his face was clean, and he was no longer wearing the colors of his kingdom. He just looked like a woodsman. She supposed. Sam had no idea what woodsmen were really supposed to look like. He fixed a glare on her, thought it didn't intimidate her as much this time, and he held up his wrists and commented that it had to be a joke. Sam looked at the ropes and had a suspicion that they were sort of pointless. He could probably free himself from them at anytime. It wasn't a particularly comforting thought, but she allowed herself to have a little faith. She looked back at him and shrugged. "I'm operating on a bit of faith here. Just be happy that they aren't carrying you." Her tone went completely serious and honest. "But seriously, if you try anything I will cut you using your own sword." Sam was done playing the victim. She had said she'd take responsibility for him and she had meant it and she was choosing to trust that him. But if the occasion arose she would defend herself. Juts like she would have back home.

But now it was breakfast time. She followed August and sat by the fire, accepting the food when it came to her. Dorothea began telling her the plans for their journey that day and Sam glanced over at her, having only one question. "Whose farm are we going to?" she asked, looking around at the rag tag group of companions.

"Doc Jolly," Florian answered, after swallowing a mouthful of hash. "He's a family friend, used to be a stable hand for the old king of Verinia. Now he owns a horse farm down across the fairy road. You'll like him, I think."

Though he was starving, August ate slowly, and he kept an eye on Coralie who seemed to be immensely offended that the food she had slaved to prepare was going to feed a liar and a murderer. She kept squeezing the handle of a knife as if she were imagining what it might feel like to plunge it into his heart. He wasn't even sure what he'd done to personally offend her.

Once breakfast was cleaned up, the dwarves each shouldered a pack, the biggest sack was given to August (Coralie insisted on bringing her favorite frying pan) and the troupe set off single file along a thin path between the boulders and trees, led by Alphonse and his feathered hat.

"Mind the Jockal," Alphonse whispered loudly.

The forest buzzed, clinked and whirred, full of life now that the queen was nowhere nearby. As they delved further into Verinia, the trees and the vines were greener, the flowers brighter, and the animals just a little more curious. Dorothea yelped when a yellow fuzzy monkey-squirrel pulled her tail -- after that she rode on Sam's shoulder, keeping watch ahead.

Sam walked at the end of the line, behind August so she could keep an eye on him. At least that's what she wanted everyone to think. The truth was that she wasn't sure if she'd be able to do much if he did attempt to escape, even when he was weighed down by the biggest pack the group had. Sam had taken his sword, though she didn't have a clue how to use it other than holding the handle and sticking the other person with the sharp, pointy end. It was probably a bit more complicated than that, though.

It was weird, carrying the sword. The closest she had ever come to carrying a weapon was a can of pepper spray that she had in her handbag back home, though she'd never actually used it. When you lived in a big city it as better to be prepared, though. So she had bought and carried the can. The sword was different. She was very aware of it on her hip. It was a noticeable extra weight that she was carrying and sometimes it felt heavier than it actually was. That was more because of the figurative burden rather than the actual weapon though. Sam;s hand brushed against the hilt and she wasn't positive if she felt that much braver or more secure with the sword in her possession.

The scenery was able to take her mind off of it though. The forest around the queen''s hallow had been bleak and silent, almost as though it were dead. But the woods surrounding them were becoming more lush with each step. Sam turned her head, suddenly surrounded by green that was flecked with bright colors from the wild flowers that seemed to have come from nowhere. This was the sort of forest one pictured when reading a fairy tale. She heard Dorothea's yelp and turned her head in time to see something that looked like a cross between a monkey and a squirrel, but with bright yellow fur, scurrying off into the brush. Sam blinked her eyes at the sight, watching the creature vanish and mentally telling herself that she hadn't imagined it. Dorothea leaped up onto her shoulder after the run in with yellow monkey-squirrel, and once she was settled Sam looked over at her. "This is Verinia?" she asked, more for clarification that anything else. Her eyes began to wander, looking up into the trees and seeing some birds she couldn't begin to describe. She wasn't even sure if they were birds, come to think of it. "This place...it feels different from your kingdom." It wasn't stated like the difference was a bad thing. Sam was merely making an observation. "Why is that?"

Dorothea's tail thumped against Sam's back, and she stretched her neck to look up at the colorful feathers flitting in the trees. "It's the fairy roads," she explained. "The fairy realm is like your world -- it exists outside the five kingdoms. The fairy roads are the link between our world and theirs. The roads are full of life energy -- some wizards call them leylines -- and so everything grows differently, the closer you get to the fairy road."

Alphonse looked back with a grin. "Not to mention the fairies that sneak through the veil."

"We should be careful," Dorothea went on with a nod. "Verinia is a beautiful place, but these woods have a mind of their own."

Coralie smacked a low-hanging tree branch with her palm, and it jumped and moved away as if stung, its leaves shuddering. A flock of long-feathered birds warbled above. They passed by a tall stone with a symbol of a sun etched into its surface -- then, half-concealed by foliage, a moss-covered statue of a long-forgotten god. It had the head of an eagle, the outstretched arms of a woman and the wings of a bat, bristled with green lichen and heavy with dew-glistening vines. A crow cackled somewhere in the distance.

"Well that is not right," Alphonse whispered, as he tended to do when faced with the unknown. He pushed his hat farther down his forehead, the feather trembling. "We should be near the brook now, but I know I've never seen that statue before."

Florian huffed, shifting the weight of his pack. "The woods 're just playing tricks again. We're all right as long as we stay on the path."

August, who had been walking slower ever since they had passed the sun-stone, finally stopped in his tracks. While the dwarves trouped onward through the brush and bramble, the Marshal stood breathlessly still. "Sam," he said in a low, grave voice, laced with a hideous sort of anger. His eyes were fixed on that mossy statue, and he refused to take another step. "If you value your life you will untie me and give me my sword."

"You're mad!" Dorothea hissed, and her claws nipped through Sam's shirt for an instant. "I won't have any more of your tricks, Marshal. Keep moving."

August had stopped walking and Sam, who had been gazing up at the strange wildlife these fairy roads had to offer, bumped into him. She took a step back, startled, and then made a face when she saw him standing still. "We need to keep moving," she said, trying not to sound annoyed. She was about to push in forward and move around to walk in front of him when he spoke and she went as still as he was.

"Sam."

It was his tone that had made her pause. It had been quiet and serious, hinted with a chilling type of fury. The kind of tone that made her stop and listen. She looked over at him, suddenly not so annoyed and feeling very uneasy. He told her to untie him and give him his sword. If she valued her life. This...was a trick. Had to be. Dorothea voiced the same thought and the rational part of Sam's mind completely agreed, Though there was something about his expression and voice that made another part of her doubt that. He was stark still and was gazing intently at something, not taking his eyes off of it.

"What are you talking about?" Sam started to say as she turned to look at whatever he was gazing at. She didn't think she finished her sentence because she had locked eyes with the statue. It was just a statue. That's what the logical mind of a girl who had lived in real world New York for her whole life kept saying. But she felt something, looking at the statue. Maybe it was because the logical New York girl had reminded herself she was now in a completely illogical world and had to keep an open mind. Maybe it was because she had heard Alphonse's uneasy whisper about not ever seeing a statue here before. Maybe it was because she saw August's expression (a genuine expression she thought) as he looked at it. Maybe it was because, like August had told her the previous night, she knew that things weren't always what they appeared to be. Or maybe it was because she just didn't like the look of the statue itself. But looking at it gave her the peculiar feeling of dread.

She looked over at August, gray eyes flashing. "Is this a trick?" she whispered, almost hoping that it was. "If you're tricking me, August, I..." She couldn't finish the threat. She had looked back at the statue and felt her hands make up her mind for her. She ignored the protests that Dorothea would undoubtedly offer as she began untying the ropes around his wrists. It took an agonizingly long time and she could have just cut the ropes with the sword, but Sam didn't fully trust herself with the weapon. She did eventually let the ropes fall to the ground and she pulled the sword from the sheath. Sam hesitated, gazing at August as though searching for signs of deception. But her instinctual unease about the statue outweighed her unease about him and she held the sword out to him, hoping beyond hope this wasn't some sort of ruse.

August never took his eyes off the statue. Never moved a muscle, even as Sam's fingers worked the knots at his wrists.

Dorothea's voice tumbled in fear. "Sam, don't do this, please, I trust you but he has a way of getting into your head, please Sam." She was breathing hard, shifting on Sam's shoulder, debating just how far she was willing to go to stop this.

The bushes at the statue's feet hissed and rustled; something moved quick beneath them. Dorothea could hear the distinct sound of claws scrabbling against stone, and she went quiet.

August was still, breathing through his teeth, even after his hands were free. The moment the hilt of his sword touched his palm, he dragged a breath into his lungs, surged forward and threw the weight of his body into a swing of the blade.

A creature jumped from the bushes -- it was shaped like a man but was white as a ghost, with huge hollow eyes and a mouth like a lamprey, a horrible skeleton with bloodless skin. It appeared only for an instant, then dove into the ditch; August's blade swung harmlessly through the air where it had been. Dorothea screamed. The forest echoed with a chorus of clicking and creaking voices, trembling all around them.

"We're cut off from the others," August breathed, preparing his sword again -- and indeed, the dwarves were nowhere to be seen, even though they could see the path as it stretched on through the lush forest. The clicking grew louder, the sound enveloped them. The bushes rustled again. Three, then four of them, hidden beneath the leaves. Sticks cracked. Claws skittered.

"But they're just stories..." Dorothea whispered, her eyes blown wide.

"They're your father's soldiers, Princess," August hissed. "This is what happens to men who wage war on the fairies."

Sam had ignored Dorothea, tried focusing on her work with the knots around August's hands. The only time her hands stopped working was when the sounds of leaves rustling ad something sharp dragging against stone filled her ears. She felt a cold shiver run down her spine and fear stabbed at her. She could feel a whimper rising up her throat and swallowed it, forcing herself not to make a sound until August was untied.

He moved immediately when his sword was back in his hand. Sam turned as he propelled forward, toward the bushes, and she could hardly breath as she watched the swing of his sword... Then something leaped from the bushes, making her jerk back, away from the pale thing before it vanished again, away from the blade. Sam had let out a startled cry when the thing had appeared, and she clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle anymore noises. She was breathing very hard through her nose as she watched where the creature had appeared with wide eyes.

Dorothea's weight on her shoulder only provided her the tiniest bit of comfort as she moved closer to August and his sword. All her unease and doubts about him had vanished when that thing had shown its face. Her gaze swiveled around as the clicks and creaks from presumably more of those things filled the air like a horrible song. She was aware of both Dorothea and August speaking but their words hardly registered. All Sam could hear was the chorus of the creatures getting louder, and now the sounds of claws was distinct. She didn't even want to think about how many more of them were surrounding them.

She lowered her hand from her mouth and her breathing was shaky and uneven. "What was that thing?" Sam could barely whisper, not wanting to make a noise loud enough to rile them. "And how do we get away?"

"They're called Shades," Dorothea explained, though she barely believed it herself. "If it touches you, you become one of them."

"They can't go far from that statue," August added. "That's what keeps them alive." He shoved Sam aside and swung his blade, just as another one was leaping at her. It hissed and disappeared into the brush, skittering away beneath the leaves. The others were coming closer, gathering together, clicking and hissing. All they could see was a shudder of leaves and branches, hiding the creatures that crouched in the ditch by the road.

"We need a distraction," August hissed, flexing his fingers on the hilt.

"...Sam?" Dorothea breathed. She braced herself on Sam's shoulder, her ears filled with that horrible clicking and shifting of the bushes. "Scream. If you trust me, scream loud."

August glanced back at them with wide eyes, but he didn't object. It was a terrible, terrible idea -- but it was the only idea they had.

Sam had never wanted to shrink away until she no longer existed more than she did at this moment. Anything to avoid the creatures', the Shades', touch. The thought of just becoming one of those things, losing herself...one touch and it would be over. Samantha Shea would no longer exist and what remained would turn into...something. Something that clicked and creaked and had claws and just... Not for the first time, and certainly not for the last, Sam wished for home.

August's words about the statue distracted her from her thoughts and she let out a yelp as he shoved her. she spun in time to see him swing at a Shade had been about to pounce on her, and Sam's head swiveled around, trying to be completely aware of her surroundings. But she was afraid the feeling of panic that was overtaking her would cloud her senses. All they had to do was get away from the statue, from their source of life. And they'd be fine. But she could hear them getting close, see the bushes around them rustling as they were surrounded. The Shades would be on them in a heartbeat when they tried to run.

At August's suggestion of a distraction she heard Dorothea whisper her name. Sam turned her head to look at the cat on her shoulder, her panicking eyes wide. She told her to scream. Sam looked at her for a moment as though she hadn't understood, as though she were crazy. Trust her... Not long ago, just that morning in fact, Sam had asked Dorothea to trust her. Looking at her now she knew she needed to extend Dorothea same courtesy. And besides. What else could she do?

She spared August a glance and heard nothing from him. No objections or suggestions. So this was all they had, then. Sam took a breath and threw her head back and screamed.

It was surprisingly ear splitting. Sam had never needed a reason to scream like this before, and hadn't known she could produce a sound so shrill or loud. Her eyes were squeezed shut, too afraid to see how the Shades reacted to her screaming, and when she began running out of air she took a quick breath and started screaming again. It was uncomfortable, her throat ached, and if she suspected if she lived her voice would be weaker. But if there was any consolation it was that she could no longer hear the clicking sound of the Shades.

The Shades paused in surprise at the noise -- the bushes stopped moving if only for a moment -- and Dorothea's ears pressed back against her skull. And then the Shades were on the move again, rising up out of the bushes. Four, seven, then nine of them stood up among the bramble on both sides of the road, hissing and clicking. August brandished his sword -- and he looked up.

Far away, a tree branch broke and fell. The forest roared like a freight train, and something was pounding and smashing and thundering toward them from deep within the forest. Its long neck and wide jaws flashed between the trees; its tail threw a sapling into the air like a twig. The Jockal slammed its way into the clearing, its nostrils sniffing for the source of the screams -- and its paw smashed off one of the wings of the Shades' statue, crushing it to dust.

The Shades screeched, and like a flood they threw themselves upon the Jockal with impossible speed, scratching and biting in an angry frenzy; the Jockal wheezed and bit and flung its head and tail, crashing into the trees, scratching them and scraping them off its scales.

August grabbed Sam's hand and jumped off the road, away from the statue and the raging battle, over rocks and fallen trees and running brooks. The clicks and screams and shrill cries of warfare dissipated behind them, and Dorothea laughed.

"Three cheers for your boyfriend the Jockal!" she giggled.

The sound of splintering wood and the pounding of feet on the forest floor as something huge thundered towards them through the trees was the only thing that made Sam stop screaming. She was suddenly experiencing deja vu as memories of the previous evening, of a giant lizard chasing her up a tree, washed over her and she found herself bracing for death as the Jockal burst into the clearing. Apparently it was still very much drawn to her. It figured.

But when the nine shapes of the ghost like shades began shrieking and attacking the Jockal in stead of them, Sam suddenly felt like she had never been happier to see anything before in her life. Even if it was a monster that wanted to eat her. She felt August take her hand and then he was pulling her along after him. She clung to his hand like it was a life saver and she was in danger of drowning in the middle of an ocean. They were running, leaping off of the road and over obstacles, and Sam remembered to reach up and hold Dorothea more securely to her shoulder just in time before the cat went tumbling through the air and was lost to them.

She didn't feel exhaustion, too motivated by escaping the sounds of the shrieks and the roars from the battle behind them. But when they were finally too far to hear the sounds of the creatures that had tried to kill them she finally stopped, her hand slipping from August's. Sam felt very out of breath all at once and she was gasping and clutching the stitch that had suddenly former in her side. The remnants of the fear and the adrenaline were almost too much for her and she bracced herself against a tree, thankful for something solid to cling to. Sam slid to the ground as she tried to catch her breath, and she raked her long hair away from her flushing face.

She heard Dorothea's laughter and words and despite everything she managed to smile. "That...was...sort of brilliant...back there," Sam said between breaths. She leaned her head back against the tree trunk and made a relieved sort of sound. "How'd you know that would work?"

One she had gotten her breath back she opened her eyes again and looked around. She had no idea where they were, unsurprisingly, but she didn't think they were on the right path anymore. "Where are we know?" she asked, looking up at August. Maybe a part of her expected him to betray her now, like that part of her had told herself he inevitably would. "What happened to the dwarves? You don't think they..." She didn't want to finish the question, didn't want to think that thought.

Dorothea jumped down to give Sam a bit of breathing room, but she was too full of adrenaline to sit -- she paced in circles on a flat rock, and absently sharpened her claws on it. "Well ... I thought that if it didn't work, it would be better to die in the jaws of a Jockal than to live forever as a Shade." She tipped her head, her yellow eyes narrowed at the Marshal. "How did you know they were there in the first place?"

August had shouldered his sword, and he was scanning the woods for signs of anything that might be following them -- but aside from the birds and the squirrel-monkeys, there was only quiet. "My first year in the regiment, your father declared war on the fairy realm. Four hundred men marched down the fairy roads. Eight of us returned. Those Shades might well have been my old comrades, once."

Dorothea stared at him, but he was as cold and serious as ever. "My father would never --"

"Your father vowed after that to keep the peace," August interrupted her. "That loss was a blow he won't forget." He looked to Sam, his expression grave, and he looked out at the forest again. "The dwarves would have gone on to the horse farmer. The Shades separated us, but I think they left the dwarves alone. So if we keep moving we might find them." He shifted his weight, always ready to keep moving. He knew the queen would be furious by now -- perhaps, with a little luck, he could lead them right into Liam's caravan. He could tell the queen, then, that all was according to plan.

Dorothea sat down, puffing her chest in that regal way of hers. "Marshal. The danger is over. Relinquish your sword."

August didn't even flinch. "I'm the only thing standing between you two and being eaten." He peered down at Sam purposefully. Even if she asked it of him, he had no intention of letting himself be disarmed again.