The moon was full that night. Sam didn't usually pay attention to that sort of thing, but as she sat in the back of the cab staring out of the window she found herself looking up into the sky and seeing the completely full orb of a moon sitting in the sky. She looked at it for a few moments before she was able to take her eyes away from it and looking at the clock on the cab's dashboard. It was close to one in the morning. She was supposed to be home right now, sleeping or studying but around six that evening, about two hours after coming home for the first time and changing from her work clothes to dark wash jeans and a comfy dark green sweater, Jane had called and summoned her back to the firm to help her do some research for a case she was working on. Jane O'Donnell was an partner at the firm Sam worked at as her paralegal and assistant. Jane was almost double her age, rather young compared to the other partners, but was a tough nosed lawyer who had climbed her way up the ranks. "Get some dinner for us, Miss Shea. We could be here a while."

About six hours were spent in that office that evening. Sam running back and forth to the files room and the library, fetching and researching things for the law suit Jane was assigned to. Jane and her client were going up against some big company and it was a long shot. The sort of cases Jane loved and excelled in. There was no doubt in her mind that she wouldn't win. These were the sort of cases Sam would love to be able to tackle someday. If she ever manged to take and pass the Bar and become a lawyer herself. She didn't know what it was about tests but she just couldn't stand them. The anxiety that the mere thought of taking a test gave her was almost crippling. She had somehow managed to take the LSAT to even get into law school, but it was been an exhausting, terrifying experience and she had been so convinced she had failed during the weeks before getting her scores that it had almost seemed like a miracle to her that she didn't. Sam had told herself that if she could pass the LSATs she could pass the Bar and had spent weeks studying. But at the last moment she realized she couldn't remember any of the material she had studied and backed out of the test. Jane was promising her an associate position once she had passed, but she was getting impatient and Sam knew that if she didn't pass by the end of the year the position would be gone.

Which had been why she had planned on dedicating the night to studying, but then Jane had called. Now that she was going home again maybe she'd spend some time reviewing one of the books she had bought. Or maybe she'd fall over onto the floor once she walked through the door out of exhaustion. She supposed she would find out soon enough. Normally she walked to and from work, but walking alone at this time of night was stupid. So she had decide to blow a little money on a safe cab ride home. It was quicker this way, too. She got out of the cab once it came to a stop outside of her building and paid the man before he headed off to find a new customer. Sam looked up at the building she lived in, one of the oldest in the city apparently, and let out a sigh. Jane said might call her tomorrow, even though it was Saturday, but it was more likely she wouldn't have to. Still Sam didn't like the idea of working on her day off, no matter how much her job meant to her. Maybe she could fake sick so she could stay in bed.

Sam was too tired to even consider the stairs and leaned against the elevator as it ascended. She closed her eyes briefly and sighed again before hearing the elevator ding and the doors slide open onto her floor. She wasted no time striding down the hall and unlocking the door to her apartment. She wanted to be home, she wanted to sit down. The apartment was nice. Initially her father had helped her pay for it, but by now she had had enough checks from the firm to pay for it herself. It was pretty spacey, spacey enough for one person that is, and it had a pretty nice view. The only thing that bugged her was the giant old mirror hanging in the hall close to the door. The landlord had told her that the owners said it was not to be moved, and she had shrugged it off. Sometimes she glanced into her reflection as she was running out the door, but mostly she avoided it. For some reason she always felt like something was staring back at her. It was stupid, of course, but she still wasn't fond of the old thing.

She dropped her bag, keys, and coat onto a table propped against the wall opposite of the mirror and walked right on past it. She stifled a yawn as she went into the kitchen to get a glass of water and purposefully ignored the pile of Bar test study books on the table. Tomorrow. She'd do it tomorrow. She opened up a cupboard to get a cup when she stopped, and focused her attention on her hearing. There had been a rustle in the other room. She listened a bit more and she definitely heard something swishing softly on the wooden floors. Sam took a hold of anything she could find on the counter, which turned out to be a rolling pin, and moved quietly to the doorway of the sitting room before turning the lights on.

A cat was sitting on the floor. One with black and white fur. Sam nearly dropped the rolling pin in surprise and couldn't help but ask it, "How did you get in here?" despite knowing that it was a cat and cats couldn't speak. Something fluttered at the corner of her eyes and she glanced up to see a window open, a breeze from outside disturbing the curtains. Ah. She had forgotten to close a window. Maybe this was a neighbor's cat who had decided to go on a little adventure. It was to late to go knocking from door to door and she didn't want to just throw it out. Sam looked back down at the animal and shrugged. "Don't get too comfortable here, Cat. Tomorrow we're going to take you back where you belong. But tonight..."

Why was she talking to the cat? Sam immediately fell silent and after a few more moments of eye contact with the cat she shrugged again and moved back into the kitchen. She got her water and then poured a bit of milk into a little bowl and set it down on the floor in the living room. In case it was thirsty. Deciding she was too lazy to fight the darkness to find her bedroom, or to take her boots off, Sam lowered herself onto the couch and turned the television on. That helped her sleep sometimes. Some late night show was playing, and she decided that was better than nothing. She lowered the volume and curled up on the couch, but was only able to keep her eyes open for a few minutes. Sam rested her head against a throw pillow and entertained herself with the idea that the cat would curl up on the couch with her as she dozed off.

Everything was so big when one was so little. Dorothea had spent the better part of an evening dodging horseless carriages and avoiding the grasp of children. Running on all fours was a new experience: her chin felt so close to the ground, she was sure she would tumble tail-over-ears at any moment. Somehow, she'd maintained her balance -- and good thing, because the Marshal was quick behind her. She dove into a clowder of stray felines at a rubbish pail, scattering them in all directions, and she bolted as fast as her delicate paws could carry her.

The open window was a convenience: a house to hide in, and a sill to look out over to ensure she hadn't been followed. Her ears swiveled, her big eyes blinked, clear in the darkness. Nothing moved in the alleys. Nothing had noticed her. She was safe. She was also a cat.

The appearance of a gigantic person with a rolling pin, however, was another matter. She froze, and she stared up at the human with a regal air, fluffy chest puffed, daring her to take a step nearer. She had teeth and she had claws, and she was quite willing to learn to use them. It must have worked, because the human backed down and even set a bowl of milk on the floor. Dorothea was sure to stay exactly where she was, and she didn't let the human see her sneak up on the bowl and lap at the milk. She was very, very hungry.

Snuggling was not something Dorothea did. For awhile she stared curiously at the moving pictures on the magic talking box, but decided it was just light and noise. She set to exploring her new refuge, poked her head into corners and shadows, taking note of anything that could be used as a weapon -- not that she had hands to wield it, but maybe she could convince the human to stand her guard. She was worried by the size of the moon outside, and the big mirror against the wall in the hallway. There was a bristle in her fur that told her the Marshal wasn't far off.

She jumped lightly onto the couch and walked along its back to take a proper look at the human whose house she was sheltering in -- but a clatter drew up her head immediately, ears pricked and eyes wide in alarm. Something or someone was outside, smacking the trash cans with a sword. She knew a sword when she heard one. Her tail flicked violently.

Someone pounded on the door with a fierce urgency. Dorothea spread her fangs and hissed, hackles raised.

At the door was the Marshal and two guardsmen, clad in the Queen's violet and chainmail. They weren't here to talk.

It took a few moments for the pounding to rouse Sam. She had been sound asleep, no dreaming just pure rest. Completely dead to the world. But the pounding became persistent, which quickly caused her to stir. She let out a groan as whoever was at the door knocked louder and faster and her gray eyes were bleary when they flickered open. She had to blink the sleep out of them several times before she was able to keep them open and she pushed herself up into a sitting before reaching around the table beside her to flick the light on. The sun would be up soon she noted as she glanced at the clock on the wall. Whoever it was either had an emergency or didn't care that it wasn't even dawn. "Yeah," she mumbled as she pushed herself to her feet. "Yeah alright!" she called out to the person still knocking.

There was a hiss and she turned to look at the cat perched on top of the couch. The teeth were bared and the back was arched, almost defensive. She hoped, for the first time, that she hadn't let a stray street cat into her home. Sam made a face at the cat. "What's gotten into you?" The pounding continued. "Yeah I'm COMING!" she yelled at the direction of the door, and started walking out of the living room and into the main hall. "Jeeze Louise," she muttered as she smoothed her dark red hair back from her face. She bet she was a sight to see. She had fallen asleep in her jeans, oversize green sweater, and black boots. At least she had taken a shower after coming home from work at four that evening.

She opened the door and was, for a second, shocked into silence by what she saw. Three guys, dressed like something out of a King Arthur movie, all velvet and chainmail. Sam couldn't stop herself from smirking a bit as she leaned against the door frame. "Didn't know there was a renaissance fair in town," she commented, looking at the man in front of the other two. The Robin Hood of this band of Merry Men she supposed. Sometimes you got the crazies knocking on your door in the wee hours of the morning. But that's what happened when you lived in a big city. "Can I help you gentlemen with something?"

The Marshal peered at her without the slightest flicker of amusement. He was dressed in a bit more gold than the other two, and he was the only one of them whose sword was still sheathed. He never got his hands dirty unless there was no alternative. He glanced past her into the room, just as the black and white cat scurried under the couch.

"Take her," he snapped in command. He shoved his way into the room while the two guards each grabbed one of Sam's arms, holding her tightly between them. The Marshal's armor clinked while he stepped forward. He leaned down, grabbed the edge of the couch and heaved it with an enormous force, sending it crashing into the coffee table while a lamp shattered on the floor. The cat was huddled in the spot where the couch had been, staring wide-eyed and stunned -- but when the Marshal took a step forward, she bolted behind the broken couch, streaked around the hall corner and took a running leap at the mirror on the wall. The cat vanished.

"This way," the Marshal barked, taking purposeful long strides down the hall. "Bring the girl." He ducked at the end of the hall and stepped easily into the mirror, and was gone just as quickly as the cat. The two officers tightened their grip on Sam and dragged her along after him.

Maybe Sam hadn't noticed the swords in the other two's hands. Maybe she had and had just assumed they were fake like the rest of their costumes. Either way she didn't give the weapons any thought at all initially. She was more focused on the one she assumed to be in charge. He did not seem at all amused by her wit, shockingly enough. His face looked cold. Maybe it was that coldness that finally made Sam go a bit uneasy and wish she had something within arm's reach to hold and defend herself, if the occasion arose.

The man who was apparently in charge had been peering around her into her apartment, and then suddenly spoke. Not in response to her questions, but a barked order to the other two. Sam was too taken aback by the harsh tone of his voice for the words to really register in her mind, and then she was distracted by the fact that he was shoving his way past her into her home. "Excuse me but who do you think...HEY!" Her accusations to Mr. Large-And-In-Charge were cut off when she felt a pair of hands take her by each arm. Her head swiveled around to glare at the two other men, the ones holding her, and she realized stupidly what he had meant by "Take her."

Sam struggled against them, trying to pull her arms free from the hands that were holding them. It was, of course, pointless. Their grips were iron and they stood taller than her and probably had a good deal more strength than her, as well. As she tried fruitlessly to break free from them, she watched as the leader strode into the sitting room and flipped the couch over. "Hey, what are you doing?" she yelled at him, hearing a table and a lamp smash. She could see the cat there, where she had been hiding beneath the couch and she was looking up at the man with wide eyes. They were after...the cat? Why? What was happening? Who were they? None of this was making sense. And it started making even less sense as she watched the cat streak past the man advancing on her and down the hall, where she made a running leap and went straight through the mirror that hung there.

The sight had made Sam go momentarily limp from shock. The cat had vanished, had sailed through the air and into the mirror's reflective surface like the surface hadn't been there at all. As though the ornate frame simple surrounded a gaping hole in the wall. That hadn't just happened, it couldn't have. Sam's mouth moved wordlessly as the man reappeared in the hallway. He ordered his men to follow him. "Bring the girl." And then he too stepped through the mirror as simply as walking through a doorway and was gone from sight.

Sam became very aware that she was the only girl in the room that they could possibly bring along with them and that there was only one place they could possibly be going. "No!" she began yelling, hoping that the walls weren't so thick that a neighbor could be awakened by the ruckus in here, and she began pulling back, away from the direction they were attempting to drag her. The iron grip they had on her had become even tighter, but her attempts to break away were slowing them down a bit. If Sam's heart hadn't been racing from fear at the moment she might had felt some pride at that. However the pride would have been short lived since the guards seemed to realize that it would be easier to carry rather than drag. Sam felt herself lifted off the ground and then the men were striding down the hall, carrying her between them with her legs kicking in the air. She yelled at them to put her down, to let her go, but fell silent when she was faced with the mirror. They carried her to it, without any hesitation that they would simply be smashing into a solid surface. Sam felt herself holding onto one last hope that whatever was making the cat and these men able to walk through it wold not work for her, but it was pointless. The men stepped forward into the surface and vanished into whatever lay behind the mirror, and Sam slipped through the surface along with them.

It was dark, the room she now found herself in. There were lights, but they were flickering flames on torches and from candle lit lanterns. The walls and floors were made of stone and there was a coldness that bit through Sam's jeans and sweater, making her shiver. She wasn't struggling anymore, simply taking in these alien surroundings with wide eyes. She looked behind her to see her pale face looking back. There was a mirror on the wall, an exact copy of the one hanging on the wall of her apartment. Her apartment in a city in a state in a country that could be leagues away. Her head spun back around. "Where am I?" she shouted, at once getting her spirit back as she started fighting against her captors again. It was just a useless now as it was minutes ago, but the fact that she could still struggle gave her a bit of pride.

"Keep her quiet!" the Marshal barked, a hand held back in a command for silence. He barely breathed while he scanned the room, his expression set in a grave scowl; every cell of his body protested to this place, where one false move could bring hellfire upon all their heads. The dusty air seemed to buzz with tantalizing energy, just waiting for the right spark to set it all alight -- and there was an obstinate princess gallavanting somewhere among the spells, all the more dangerous for her small body and tail. Whatever possessed the queen to turn her into a cat was beyond him. Turtles were much more convenient.

"Sir --" one of the guards protested warily -- and indeed, the two were having enormous trouble just keeping a grip on the squirming and thrashing girl. Covering her mouth would prove a daunting if not impossible task. They fumbled with her limbs and shoved her weight between them, bruising her with their gauntlets.

The Marshal turned in a fury and glared at her. He stepped forward and grabbed her chin in one strong hand, forcing her to look at his deadly serious blue eyes. "This is a dangerous place," he hissed in a low, articulate voice. "One false move -- one word from you could kill us all. That tingle in the air is dark energy, and it's not welcoming."

While he growled at her, the cat appeared high atop a cabinet behind him, her ears perked, legs coiled, tail twitching. She flashed her fangs. Marshal Derrick had been her father's confidante, once -- a man they both had thought was just, loyal, and worth of the trust they had given him. But for this betrayal, this foul self-preservation, for this base display of his true and revolting self, she could never forgive him. Now there was an innocent girl dragged into the worst of predicaments, and it was all her fault.

The cat leaped, and the Marshal roared in pain as claws and teeth sank into his scalp. He jolted away from Sam and stumbled around the room, his gauntlets too inarticulate to catch a grip on the squirming, lashing cat. He bumped into a small table and a glass vial shattered on the floor; the room screeched a piercing, ugly howl and the temperature dropped to freezing; spirits of the dead rushed between them, wisps of human forms, cackling and sobbing as they rushed in a blur around the room.

The cat leaped off of the Marshal and clawed at one guard's face until he, screaming, released his grip on Sam. Dorothea lighted on Sam's shoulder, and she spoke. "Run. This way." She bounded away, dodged the Marshal's reach, and sailed out of an open window, while the crowded spirits screamed and writhed.

The leader of the trio that had abducted her snapped at the two to keep her quiet. Sam was pleased to find she was making that task much more difficult then it had to be, even though the armored gauntlets dug into her skin, making it all the more unpleasant for her. Taking one hand off of her arm to cover her mouth could give her the opportunity to wriggle out of one set of hands and make an escape. Their leader saw that and began striding over to her. Suddenly his firm hand was clasping her chin, forcing her to stare directly at him. Her gray eyes met his blue, and the iciness in that gaze made her stop squirming. It did not, however, stop her from gazing at him with a hardness of her own. In that moment she hated him and she wanted him to know it.

He spoke to her in a hushed voice yet the serious tone ensured she heard every word. They were in a dangerous place, although she wanted to tell him the only danger he had to worry about was when she got her hands on him. But maybe it was his eyes, or his hissing tone, or the tingle in the air that she was just starting to feel, the dark energy apparently, that made her bite that comment back. The fact that he stated how easy it wold be for them to die in this room also helped. She wasn't completely silent, however. Sam didn't shout, didn't start struggling again. But she looked into the man's eyes and said in her own hiss, "Go to hell."

She spotted the cat on the cabinet an instant before she leaped onto the man's head. He howled in pain as the cat clawed and bit into his scalp and his hand released her chin as he went stumbling backwards. He was unable to grab the cat as he thrashed around the room, and Sam watched in horrified fascination as he upset a table and caused a glass vial topple to the ground. There was a small smash of broken glass, and then Sam wanted to cover her ears against the howling noise echoing in the stone room. She couldn't of course, due to the fact that her arms were immobile. Her teeth chattered as the already cold room went colder and her breath escaped in visible wisps. The room had begun to swirl in a tornado of fog like forms, which was making even more horrid sounds. It was all a bad dream, she told herself. But she couldn't lie to herself about this.

The cat had finished with the Marshal and leaped up onto the face of on of the men holding her. Sam couldn't see what she did but felt the grasp on her arm vanish and heard the man scream. There was a light weight on her shoulder and Sam's head turned to face the cat that was perched there. She expected a claw to the face. What she didn't expect was for the the cat to speak to her. It made Sam's heart skip a beat and for a brief moment all she could do was stare at the cat. Then it was leaping away and the instructions she had been giving crashed down on her. She turned to the remaining man, who was looking around the swirling, freezing room in fright. He wasn't aware of Sam's fist until it collided with his nose, which broke. He shrieked, letting her go to clutch his face, and Sam was freed. She turned just in time to see the cat leaping out of the open window and in a instant she tore across the room. Dodging the Marshal, she stopped for a moment at the window, noticing the drop, which wasn't that large but still made her wary, before clambering onto the ledge and jumping. She landed a bit wrong, falling forward from her feet to her knees on the earthy floor. It hurt a bit but nothing serious, she thought. Sam looked up and quickly around. She had jumped from the window of what looked like an abandoned fortress. And surrounding the building were trees. And there was no where else to go. Forcing herself to her feet, Sam ran into the woods, chasing after the cat. The talking cat. "Hey! Wait for me!" she shouted, not feeling quite so stupid to be talking to her now.

~~~

Miles and miles away Queen Narissa had retired to her private quarters. By now the gateway to the other world would be closed and the Marshal, had he succeeded in finding her stepdaughter, returned. If he hadn't returned then he was stuck in that other world and she supposed that was punishment enough. She closed and locked the door behind her and moved over to the side wall, which slid open. Inside was an arch like doorway with no door and seemingly leading to no where. It's twin was in her fortress in the woods. Much quicker and easier way to get there and back again without her husband noticing. Narissa slid the wall back into place before striding through the arch and finding herself in what Sam Shea would probably call her laboratory of sorts. Where she practice her witchcraft in secret.

She also found herself in a scene of pure chaos. The Marshal and his men were bleeding. Spirits swirled around. Someone had broken a vial. Narissa looked unimpressed as she crossed to a shelf to retrieve an empty vial and whispered a few worlds. The effect as instantaneous. Like a vacuum the spirits and the howling and the chill were sucked back up into their new vial, which she calmly capped and placed onto the shelf. Narissa looked at Marshal Derrick, a smile on her lips but her eyes like ice. "What happened here?" she asked. "Where is my stepdaughter? I assume you found her, yes?" Her tone was passive, almost pleasant, but they shouldn't be so foolish to believe she actually felt that way.

The Marshal had been in the middle of shouting orders to his incompetent lackeys, struggling to be heard over the howls and the screeching, when the guards' eyes went wide and distant, and the spirits and the noise were sucked away into a sudden and jarring silence. It was in that terrible silence, his heart beating in his ears, that August Derrick knew the Queen was standing just behind him.

He spun around, and he bowed low, rigid in every muscle. "The Princess had escaped through the mirror, Your Majesty," he responded like crisp clockwork. "We have successfully returned her to the realm. She is in the wood outside. She will be retrieved to your custody and your dungeon within the hour, as is your will." Everything was going exactly according to plan. He simply wasn't quite sure what that plan was yet. He only had to convince the Queen of the former, and to keep his cool.

Dorothea paused in the fallen leaves, her tail high and flicking impatiently. "That doorway will be closed by now," she called out in answer to an unasked question. "I'm sorry, but you're a bit stuck at the moment. You're also in great danger if those men catch you, so try to keep up." She hopped daintily over leaves and bramble, and she was still unused to how gigantic the world looked from her new perspective. It seemed to her that it would take weeks to travel all the way to the castle with her small legs. She hopped onto a fallen log and paused to survey the quiet, cold woods. Nothing stirred; it all was bleak and bare, nothing but rocks and trees as far as she could see. Every little stone seemed an impassable obstacle in the way of returning her to her proper form and status.

She turned around, coiled her legs, and leaped onto the girl's shoulder again. "That's better," she purred, satisfied to at least be able to see at a proper height, and she settled comfortably for the ride. "We need to go to the castle. It's only a few miles' walk that way," she pointed with a soft paw. "There we can see about getting you home. But quickly!"

Narissa was silent for a moment, observing the Marshal as he gave his report. She felt a surge of anger about the fact that Dorothea was still not in a cage. Blasted girl. It had been most satisfying to cast the enchantment and watch as her pretty stepdaughter was transformed in front of her. The satisfaction hadn't lasted long, however. She had been furious when Dorothea had escaped for the first time, slipping right through the mirror at the precise moment. The gateway was a tricky thing, only open for a limited time based upon the size of the moon in the World-On-The-Other-Side, which was made trickier due to the fact that in their world, in the land of Adosia, time moved faster. A month on the other side was a year in Adosia. By now the full moon in that world had set and the sun was rising and the mirror was just a mirror again. Dorothea had needed to disappear but not into the World-On-The-Other-Side. Narissa still needed her. She hadn't raised her voice at the Marshal, but her anger had been perfectly clear. Go through the mirror. Bring the princess back. Or do not come back at all. And here he was, back in the flesh. But her stepdaughter was still missing. On this side, yes. But here she could slip back to Eldonia, to the palace. Even in the animal form Narissa had trapped her in Dorothea could send her plan crumbling to the floor.

"See that she is, Marshal." He was a good man to have on her side, despite these recent events. Mostly efficient and as loyal as he had once been to her husband. Before she had swayed him. It had been a victory for her, when she had persuaded her husband's most loyal man and confidant to turn on him and serve her instead. Ordering him to help her capture the princess had been one of the last of several tests of loyalty, to see if he had truly turned away from the people he had once served. Having him watch as she cast the transformation spell on Dorothea had been another. This blunder of his, letting her slip through his fingers and escape, was most unfortunate. Though he still had this one last chance to fix everything. She looked him in the eyes and the smile slipped for a moment. "The prince isn't expecting her in Itelia until tomorrow, so no one knows she is missing yet. If she slips back to her father, everything I've worked for will fall apart. Find her." Her tone softened dangerously as she titled her head slightly to one side. "Do not fail me again, August." She didn't need to threaten anything.

Narissa turned from her guardsmen, looking at her shelves of vials and books as though searching for something of interest. "Were there any problems?" she asked, looking back over her shoulder past her curtain of gold hair. "On the other side? That world is so unlike our own."

~~~

Sam came to a halt when the cat stopped, She was panting, not so much from the running itself but from everything. The being grabbed and dragged into this place, the escape, the jump. Her heart was racing as she tried to catch her breath and the cat was speaking again. It made her wince, even though she had been expecting it. The cat said that the doorway was closed by now and that she was stuck here. Sam felt a chill rush through her and she closed her eyes. "What?" she asked, even though she had heard every word. "What do you mean stuck?" The cat was still speaking (how could she do that?) and Sam knew she was right, about the men and the danger. The thought of the Marshal's icy eyes and the hard grip on her chin made her shiver again. But despite the eminent danger of being hunted down by the men who had abducted her, including the man she had given a broken nose, she was still unable to get past the fact that she was stuck here. And she had no idea where here was.

She opened her eyes when the cat leaped up onto her shoulder. Sam turned her head to look at the furry thing just sitting there and directing her towards a castle. Of course this place had castles. Even at the promise of finding a way back home when they got there, she hesitated. "No," Sam suddenly said, shaking her head as she reached up and pulled the cat off of her shoulder. "No," she repeated as she strode over to a tree and set the cat down on a branch at eye level. "No!" Sam clenched her hands into fists to stop them shaking. "You want me to take you to this castle? Fine but first I need some answers. Like why you can talk, who those men were, why they brought me here, how they brought me here, and, oh yeah, where here is!" She stopped to take a very shaky breath and closed her eyes. Her voice had been on the verge of becoming hysterical and her hands had became knotted in her red hair, as though she were in danger of ripping it out. "And you better talk quickly," Sam added through gritted teeth, opening her eyes to gaze at the cat. "Please."

The Marshal flinched -- a flicker of change in his stony expression -- at the Queen's use of his name. He felt it as a reminder of what would happen to the people he still held dear, the people who once had fondly called him August, should he betray the Queen. No one had called him by his name since the King's wedding. The Marshal was a thing of scorn, and he preferred to keep it that way, black and cruel. As long as he was heartless -- as long as he held the Queen's trust and remained by her side -- he could keep watch over the kingdom.

He straightened, his eyes solemn and fixed straight ahead, in complete and professional obedience. "There were no problems, Your Majesty. We tracked the princess, and we retrieved her." He wouldn't tell her about the horseless carriages, the enormous palaces, the lanterns without flame that lit up the sky like the sun. If any of this was of interest to the Queen, he didn't feel inclined to indulge her. He bowed his head sharply. "With your leave we will commence our final pursuit."

--

The cat perched patiently on the branch, her tail switching, her eyes half-lidded. She stared at this other-world girl for awhile without saying anything at all. She watched her frustrated breathing, her shifting and pacing and twitching and hair-pulling. She waited for the girl to collect her wits, as surprised people sometimes needed to do, before she spoke again.

"My name is Dorothea," she said as simply as she could. "I am the princess of Eldonia, which is the kingdom we're in right now." She blinked slowly. "I am, obviously, just as human as yourself. I was changed into this form, and I will be changed back. Those men behind us work for the Queen, who, for her own reasons, requires me to disappear. Her men brought you here because they thought you knew too much. I do not think they realized how mute I had been, or how ignorant you were. They might have left you alone. You were brought here via a mirror doorway: one may only step through it while the moon is full and bright in your world. The sun has risen in your world, therefore the doorway is shut. I believe those are the answers to all your questions." She blinked again, slowly, and made every effort to avoid making sudden movements. She knew what it was to be confused and out of her depth. "I will guide you home, but you need to trust me. You might begin by telling me your name." She stood up on the branch, her tail stretched tall. "But while we walk. The Marshal will be fast after us."

The queen was silent as the Marshal spoke, and she considered him for a moment, and then the other two guardsmen. One of the men had slash wounds from claws on his face, and the Marshal himself looked as though he was bleeding from bites and claw wounds as well. The second man, however, had a broken nose. Not an injury obtained from a cat. Her eyes narrowed slightly but she said nothing of it. If it was important she would find out soon enough. So Narissa just smiled again. "Then by all means, Marshal. Commence away. It'll be night soon and I must return to the castle now. Before the King starts looking for me." She nodded at her guardsmen before turning her head and walking through the arched doorway, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

~~~

Sam watched the cat as she spoke. She introduced herself as Dorothea, as a princess. Of a place called Eldonia. The name meant nothing to Sam, and she felt a chill as she was forced to accept that she was as far away from home as she could possibly be. It then became relatively easy to accept that Dorothea was actually a human who had become a cat. By magic? Of course magic existed. Of course the cat was actually a princess under a spell. Sam listened with an expression that gave away how overwhelming this was to her. Learning about the doorway she had been brought through wasn't comforting, either. The doorway that was only open when there was a full moon on the other side. In her world. Sam was finding it hard to breath. She was in another world. By now it was morning back in New York and door was closed, trapping her here. Where there were kingdoms, castles, princesses, men in armor, and apparently magic. Like something out of a story book.

Getting her answers had done nothing but make her more uncertain. And afraid. Sam wasn't used to feeling like that. She was cynical, clever, and able to take care of herself. Here in this world though she felt lost and confused. Dorothea was promising to help her get home. Sam just had to trust her, and start walking before they got caught.

Sam was skeptical, as usual. She had to trust a cat. A princess technically, but one who was stuck in the body of a cat. Dorothea was stuck. A bit like how Sam was stuck in this world. At this thought she closed her eyes as she took a deep breath and gathered up whatever nerve she had left. There wasn't much, but there was enough. Sam opened her eyes to meet the cat's gaze and nodded in agreement. She reached forward to lift Dorothea off of the branch and set her back on her shoulder. Then she turned and started walking. "My name's Sam," she told Dorothea after a moment. "Sam Shea. It's nice to meet you. I suppose. So this Marshal guy. I'm guessing he was the blue eyed one who was giving the orders." There were a few more moments of silence as she walked through the trees and then she glanced over at the cat again. "Dorothea? If you're the princess and the queen's men are chasing us...then they're your mother's men right? Why would your mother need you to disappear? Did she do this cat thing to you?"

For a moment, the Marshal stood very still, his expression and his eyes unwavering, while he composed himself. Even a flicker of relief at the Queen's departure could mean the beginning of his downfall. He turned a cold eye on his injured subordinates, and he wiped a streak of blood from his own forehead. He couldn't afford to be weak. "They'll be making the fastest route to the city," he informed them. "Find the girl: she'll be slow and sloppy without the guide roads. The cat will remain near her. Stay within my sight, or I swear to the Eves I will leave you to the Jockal." The woods would be dangerous going, even with their chainmail and swords. He half expected to find those girls in pieces before long.

With the Marshal in the lead, the three moved out at a brisk pace, following the trampled leaves and broken branches that Sam had left in her wake.

---

Dorothea's tail twitched against Sam's back. She sat straight and prim on the girl's shoulder, her big eyes watching ahead. "The Queen is not my mother," she said smartly, and she raised her chin. "My mother was beautiful, and kind, and beloved by all the kingdoms. This Queen is my poor father's conniving wife." Her tail was smacking Sam's shoulders. "She didn't tell me why she transformed me into a housecat, but I suspect it has to do with Liam." She was quiet another moment, a terrible anger roiling in her little stomach, while the chill wind blew a flurry of dead leaves across their path. "So you understand, Liam is the prince of the neighboring kingdom. He and I would be married, to unite our two kingdoms, except my stepmother the Queen Narissa is jealous. She's always been pushing her own moaning daughter at Liam and playing foul tricks to separate me from him. It is just like her to turn me into a beast to prevent my wedding for good, so Raquelle would be Liam's only choice for a bride. I daresay she plans to seize influence in both our kingdoms, to rule the continent before her greed might be satisfied."

Her ears perked, and she swiveled her head to glance behind. "You may want to run, Sam." Indeed, she could clearly hear the clink of armor behind them. Dorothea braced herself against Sam's neck. "Don't fall."

Sam let out an incredulous little laugh when Dorothea was done talking. "You have an evil stepmother? Of course you do. Why wouldn't you?" Sam also had a stepmother. And a stepfather. Neither were evil, of course. It didn't work like that. At least in her world they didn't. "So...this Liam guy? What's he like? It isn't like some kind of arranged marriage is it? Do you actually, like, love him?" She didn't believe much in love. Not since her parents had divorced when she was a child. It had been messy and by the time she had turned eight she had watched her mother and father fall completely out of love. Her parents seemed fine enough now with their new spouses, but she'd never forget the fighting or the yelling. Sam didn't like the silence between her and Dorothea though, especially in this place, and wanted to keep a conversation going.

She stubbed her toe on something and grimaced. It hurt a lot, even through her boot. She felt like a idiot, stumbling through this forest, stepping on twigs and nearly tripping over rocks. Sam was a city girl, and she had never spent long anywhere else outside of a couple of vacations to see her mother's parents in Florida. She certainly had not spent much time in any sort of wilderness, including forests. And this particular forest seemed like it was endless. Plus it was getting darker by the minute. "How far is it to this castle again? A few miles?" She frowned at Dorothea. "You sure about that?"

Dorothea's head had swiveled around to look behind them. Sam didn't think much of it until she heard Dorothea tell her to run. "What why?" she asked looking over at her as the cat secured herself on her shoulder and neck. There was only one reason she could think why. Dorothea, with her cat's ears, had heard something behind them. Namely the Marshal and his two henchmen. Sam couldn't stop her heart racing in a panic and, as Dorothea suggested she not fall, she started to run. She had run track in high school and the adrenaline was also kicking in in this situation, but neither of these facts changed the fact that Sam had no idea where she was going. She was dodging trees, climbing over logs, doing her very best not to trip and send them both toppling to the ground. She had no idea if she was still even going in the right direction anymore.

She came to a stop for a moment as she tried to catch her breath. "Dorothea," Sam whispered uneasily, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, "There is no where to go." She started glancing around, looking for any place to hide and seeing nothing. It didn't help the sunlight was nearly faded. In a desperate moment Sam lifted Dorothea from her shoulder and set her up on another tree branch. "Climb this tree. Hide or...or something. Maybe they won't care about me."

"They'll kill you at once!" Dorothea squeaked, squirming in Sam's grip in a desperate furry effort to return to her shoulders, to urge the girl onward. "You can't simply give up! You're of no use to them, you're not even supposed to exist here, they only see you as a burden and a loose end." She scrambled onto the branch and crouched there, wide-eyed, her head lowered and tail still, staring at the otherworld girl with horror and disbelief. Dorothea had drawn the Marshal straight into Sam's own home -- the one place that should have been safe. Sam, who had taken her in in her lowest hour, cared for her though she was a stranger. In return, Dorothea had thrown her into the worst kind of danger -- she had cut her life so, so short. The clink of armor was getting closer. Sam couldn't outrun them, Dorothea knew that -- and there was nowhere at all to hide, at least not for long. For once in her life, the princess had no idea what to do, and she wished with all her heart that Liam were here.

There was no time left. Neither of them would have a chance if they both were caught -- at least if Dorothea were free, she could help Sam. It was a terrible decision. "You're my responsibility," she said in a voice low like a promise, her ears flattened against her skull. Just as the Marshal spotted them, Dorothea spun around and leaped to a higher smooth branch in the bone-cold tree. She turned, coiled her hind legs, and bounded still higher -- and higher -- her tail swinging.

The Marshal slowed, wading noisily through a bed of fallen leaves, branches snapping under his feet. His scowling face was upturned, watching that dark ball of fur as it shimmied up into the highest branches and curled there, small and cold and trapped.

His guards rushed past him at a determined pace, fierce to prove themselves to the Queen, and they drew their swords and leveled them at Sam's throat, one on either side of her, daring her to so much as scratch her nose. The one with the broken nose (dripping blood into his mouth) was grinning murkily at her, his head tipped and disheveled, shifting from one foot to the other as if deciding the perfect moment to lop her head from her shoulders. "Sir," he called to the Marshal, without taking his self-satisfied eyes off of Sam. "This one is just in the way, isn't she? I mean --" The tip of his sword ticked toward Sam's throat. "She's a liability as long as she's alive."

The Marshal took his eyes off the cat, and he peered hard at Sam, considering carefully what was to be done with her.

"Dorothea, no. Listen to me," Sam said as she shook her head. She was trying to put on a brave face but she could hear her voice cracking. "I can't run through these woods all night, and even if I could...I won't know where I'm going. I don't know anything about this world. I'd just get lost and they'd catch us anyway. Don't get caught because of me." She could hear them now, the men with the clinking armor. The sounds were growing closer each second and Sam glanced over her shoulder quickly as she tried to calm her racing heart. She looked back up at Dorothea as the cat girl declared that Sam was her responsibility. It unexpectedly touched her heart and Sam felt herself smile a bit. "I can take care of myself," she said softly. Sam had felt this way for so long, even as a kid. But when she had said it just now it had felt a bit like a lie on her tongue.

The princess began to leap onto branches higher in the tree and Sam heard the disturbing of the leaves and twigs on the forest floor. She closed her eyes briefly before slowly turning to see the Marshal and his two guardsmen approaching. She felt her heart hammer in her chest as the two thugs advanced towards her and she stumbled away from them until her back was pressed against the tree. They had cornered her and had their swords drawn and held up near her throat. Sam eyed the blades, her face pale, before looking into their faces. The one with blood dripping from his nose had a particularly pleased expression on his face and he looked like he couldn't wait to run her through. He spoke to his leader, basically asking for permission to kill her on the spot.

It was at this moment as she stared Death in the face that Sam realized if she died here in this world then no one back in her own would ever know what had happened to her. To her family and friends she would have simply just vanished off the face of the earth. She couldn't let that happen. She had to live, had to get home. Sam refused to die in a world that wasn't her own. She looked at the Marshal to see him considering her and she found her voice. "What kind of man are you? First you kidnap me and trap me in this place, for no reason by the way. I swear I didn't know anything. And now that we're on the other side you're just going to kill me? Why didn't you just do it before, why bring me here at all?" Sam could hear her voice shaking as she begged for her life. But it was not just due to fear. She was also angry. "You made me a liability when you had these two drag me through that mirror! And look at me, how much of a threat could I possibly be to you? Look. At. Me. Please." She swallowed as she gazed at the man. "Only a monster would murder a scared, lost girl in the woods. Is that the kind of man you are? A monster?"

August did look at her. With a self-satisfied smirk he locked his cool gaze on her stormy eyes, and he dared her to look away. Were all women of the otherworld this loud and defiant, wearing men's clothes and proud red hair, snapping at authority like a cornered tiger? Did the men wear dresses and walk with eyes downcast for fear of offending their fiery women? Hers was, fittingly, a backwards world.

"Oh, I am a thing of nightmares," he hissed through a grin. This woman was inexperienced with the rumors and the hearsay of his condemnable fall from grace -- she still had enough doubt of his monstrosity to call him a man. He would soon fix that. "You are only alive because your blood would have prevented us from returning. To kill in the otherworld is to shut the killer out of the kingdoms forever." He knew this only from the spoken rules of the mirror doors, taken as fact since before the Queen's betrayal. No one, to his knowledge, had ever killed in the otherworld. It wasn't a risk anyone was willing to take. He took a step closer and hissed: "We can, however, slice you into slow pieces while you're here in our world, without a single consequence."

The bloody-nosed guard seemed to take great pleasure in this idea; he grinned and bounced a little on his feet, the tip of his blade now resting eagerly on the soft flesh of Sam's throat. August gave him a dangerous look, and he stepped back away from Sam. "Tie her up."

The guard blinked in disbelief. "But Sir --!" Suddenly the guard was slammed back against the tree, the Marshal's hand clasped tight around his gasping throat.

"Were you about to object to a direct order?" the Marshal asked in a terrifyingly quiet voice, while the guard trembled under his grip. The guard only whimpered in response. After a moment, Marshal Derrick let go and stepped back, and the guard hurried to tie Sam's wrists tightly behind her back, his hands shaking.

As soon as the woman was secured, the Marshal dragged her roughly into the open and pinned her against his side, a dagger leveled against her throat. He peered up into the branches, and he spotted the cat staring down at them with big yellow eyes. The tree swayed in a cold breeze. "Turn yourself in," he called in a rough voice, "or I'll cut her to pieces until you do." He moved the dagger and rested the blade behind Sam's ear. "She doesn't really need her ears anyway, don't you think?"

Dorothea leaned down and meowed in distress. "Cut so much as a hair on her head and I'll have your eyes plucked from your skull!"

"A fair idea!" the Marshal called back with a grin, and he laid the tip of the dagger under Sam's eye.

Dorothea hissed, her hackles raised -- but she believed with all her heart that the Marshal wouldn't hesitate to carry out his threat, that she would be forced to watch Sam be hacked to a screaming bloody pulp as long as she put off the inevitable. Her claws dug into the wood. Finally she dropped submissively to a lower branch, forced to begin her descent.

She probably should have known better than thinking she could talk her way out of this. This world was unknown to Sam, these people strangers. Maybe she could have talked and debated her way out of any situation in law school or back in her own world. But here she was essentially an alien. For all she knew he murdered ten girls a day. So she felt herself go cold when he started smiling the worst smile she had ever seen and silently berated herself as he confirmed himself to be every bit the monster she had described. But she refused to look away from his eyes, not matter how cold and terrible they were. He looked at her as though challenging her to advert her gaze, and she wouldn't give him that satisfaction no matter the outcome.

She felt herself grimace when he told her she had been spared back in her world due to the fact that her death would have caused them exile. But there were no rules that protected her here. He had taken a step towards her before he said that last bit, and she wanted to lean away from him as much as she could, but she was pressed firmly against the tree Dorothea was hiding in. Cornered by these three men who were likely to murder her in the next ten seconds. ."...Oh," was all she could say weakly in response to him declaring they could slice her up as much as they pleased. Then she felt the cool blade from the the man with the nose's sword on her throat. "Oh, God." This was it. How it was going to end. In screaming and slashing and blood in the middle of a forest in this fantasy world. Sam suddenly remembered that her dad's birthday was in two months and she fought back the urge to cry. Instead she fixed her gaze on the eager man with the broken nose and decided to be defiant until the end. "I don't suppose apologizing about your nose would do me any good, would it?"

"Tie her up."

Sam had been expecting the next words out of his mouth to be orders to begin hacking at her with their blades, and she stared at him visible shock. "What..." She was cut off by the Nosy Man's start of a protest but then the Marshal had him pinned against the tree beside her in an instant, she heard herself let out a gasp. She was shocked she hadn't leaned away and cut herself on the other sword. She watched the two men as the one in charge threatened without threatening in the most dangerous voice she had ever heard. The effect was instantaneous. As soon as he had been released, Nose had turned her around and took hold of her arms, a bit more roughly than was necessary she thought. Then her wrists were bound tightly behind her back. Sam winced as the rope cut into her skin and she knew she was going to have some lovely injuries there to go with the bruises she had already received from their gauntlets.

Once her hands were tied firmly behind her back she felt the Marshal take hold of her. Sam felt herself being dragged unceremoniously out into the center of the clearing, in perfect view of where Dorothea was perched at the top of the tree. She looked up at her, unable to keep a brave face this time as she felt the sharp, cool edge of another blade near her throat. The Marshal threatened to slice her to bits unless Dorothea came down from the tree and handed herself over. The dagger moved from her throat to behind her ear as he suggested she might not need them. Sam so disagreed but was unable to find her voice, which was probably for the best anyway.

Dorothea made a threat of her own and it made Sam grimace slightly. She may have been a princess but her threats seemed empty when they cam from a cat and when he as one motion away from slicing Sam's ear clean off. At the suggestion of plucking out eyeballs Sam felt the coolness of the dagger on the skin of her face as he moved the dagger once more so it laid under her eye. She had been attempting to force herself into acting calm but she could practically hear her heart racing wildly and her breathing was audible and panicky.

Sam looked up at Dorothea once more, just as cornered as she was. The princess looked furious in her defensive position but what could she do? She was essentially powerless in the form she was in. It still was painful to watch as Dorothea submitted and began her descent from the topmost branches of the tree. Sam closed her eyes, trying to fight back the feeling of defeat and despair, then opened them again. "No, don't do it!" she yelled to her, even though she was probably going to get sliced for this. She was probably already dead anyway though. "You can't trust him, he'll probably just kill me when you hand yourself over anyway! I'm not worth it!" Sam didn't want to die, didn't like saying these things about herself, and was surprised that she was even saying them. But they were true in a sense. She was no one. She was normal, average, and she didn't even belong in this place. She shouldn't know Dorothea at all, and Dorothea shouldn't be willingly handing herself over for the life of a girl that wasn't even from the same world as her. Maybe just as much as Sam shouldn't have been willing to risk her life for the princess. But Sam didn't want to watch this man she hated more than anyone else at the moment win. It was against her nature, no matter how skeptical and cynical she was. She hated it when the scumbags won and got away and walked all over everyone else in the process. Sam couldn't let that happen to Dorothea when she had no means of defense. She didn't think she could stand seeing the Marshal's face if he got what wanted.

"Quit your screeching!" The Marshal hissed, and he clamped a gloved hand over her mouth. The dagger was lowered for the moment, while his attention was on his unruly captive. "There are worse things than just me in these woods," he growled, "things that won't hesitate to rip us all apart, given the chance. Keep quiet!" He was hypocritical to talk, he realized, as he'd just been calling nearly as loudly only moments before -- but he knew there was a certain beast that lurked nearby -- nearer the swamps of the lowlands, not far from where they stood -- that preferred the blood of scared young virgins for its supper. Sam's voice was brass and fearful enough to summon a pack of them at once.

No sooner had the Marshal finished speaking, as if on cue, a deep mournful howl echoed throughout the bleak forest. The Marshal stiffened, his breathing quickened, and he sheathed his dagger in favor of his sword, which he yanked from its sheath one-handed, the other hand still clamped over Sam's mouth. The guards followed suit and stood back to back, their blades raised, and they scanned the trees for movement.

For a tense moment there was only blood-pumping silence. Even the wind was still. Waiting.

Dorothea's ears were perked, and she too watched the forest, forgetting even the Marshal in light of a new danger. She had the highest vantage point of them all, and she fixed her big eyes on the part of the forest where the howl seemed to have come from. She crept slowly forward, claws digging into the wood, careful.

Suddenly she spun around and screamed at Sam. "RUN."

A hideous, lizardy beast crashed through the trees like a freight train toward them, no longer silent now that it had been announced. It weaved snakelike between the trees, scraping with enormous claws, its red eyes glowing and rapier-sharp teeth bared and hissing. It was at least as big as a house, maybe more, though it was hard to tell while it was kicking up dead leaves and cracking tree limbs.

"No, you're too slow," August said to Sam urgently. He removed his hand from her mouth, cut the ropes from her wrists, and pushed her forcefully toward Dorothea. "Up the tree. NOW." He whirled toward his two guards. "Garrett! Minas! With me!" But the guards, terrified, seemed not to hear -- they were backing away from the oncoming beast, which appeared for all the world as if it would be the last thing they would ever see. "I said WITH ME!" the Marshal roared, to no effect.

The monster's eyes were focused ravenously on Sam.

The Marshal's hand clamped over her mouth, cutting off her words as he hissed at her to stop shouting. For a moment all Sam could do was gaze incredulously at him over his hand. Had he not been shouting about how he was going to slice her to pieces moments earlier? He alluded to other things in the woods, more terrible than him, and she could only imagine what he could possibly be talking about. She didn't have to imagine for long because as soon as he went quiet a howl rang through the air. Sam's head jerked in the direction she though it had come from, made difficult by the fact that the Marshal's hand that was still covering her mouth.

Everyone had gone tense. The Marshal's sword was drawn, as were the other guard's, and no one spoke as all of their eyes scanned the woods. Sam was hardly daring breath as her gray eyes stared wildly at the trees, images off all sorts of nightmarish beasts filling her mind. The silence was was terrible and and seemed to hammer her ears more than an explosion could have.

Dorothea's voice rang out, a shrill scream, telling Sam to run. Then she heard whatever it was that was out there smashing through the forest towards them, and her head turned to look at it, no matter how much she really didn't want to. She saw the giant scaly monster that had swords for teeth and claws, and in retrospect she would have been amazed that she didn't faint from the hideous and terrifying sight.

The Marshal was speaking to her now, but not in the low, threatening voice he had used so many times earlier when speaking to her. It was almost human of him. His hand left her mouth and she felt the ropes being cut away. Sam didn't have long to relish her freedom (not that she could have since there was a monster bounding towards them) before he shoved her towards the tree Dorothea was still in. He had told her she was too slow to outrun the beast, which she agreed with, and was urging her to climb the tree. A daunting task stupidly enough. Sam had never climbed a tree before in her life. She looked back to the Marshal as he screamed orders at his horrified and noncomplying men, then at the face of the lizard creature. The glowing red eyes were fixed upon her. Suddenly the tree didn't seem so daunting.

Sam pulled herself up onto the lower branch, and then another, and then another. She was moving as fast as possible to get out of the creature's reach, and she nearly slipped and fell to her death more than once. She always managed to catch herself, thankfully, and she forced herself not to look down. Not only did she not want to look at the monster but she also didn't want to see how high up she was and loose the nerve to climb further. Sam kept her eyes fixed up at Dorothea until she reached the firmest looking branch that was as close to the cat as possible. Only then when she was positioned semi-securely in the tree with her arms clinging the trunk for assurance did she look down. Sam paled at the height as well as the beast. "Oooooh no, " she said to herself, closing her eyes and gripping the trunk tighter. "Oh no no no no no." She opened her eyes slightly to look up at Dorothea. "What the hell is that thing?"

Dorothea skittered along the branch, glancing hurriedly between Sam and the beast, impatient and terrified, occasionally screeching some encouraging words that she hoped didn't sound as desperate as she felt. She yowled in surprise when the beast's face suddenly appeared just below Sam, and its great teeth snapped at her feet, its hot breath damp on her ankles. The monster snorted and turned away, circling the tree with its red eyes upturned hungrily.

"It's a Jockal," Dorothea answered Sam's question, once she was sure her friend was mostly safe and her own heart had slowed down a bit. "They're sort of legendary for eating young maidens." She set her claws in the bark and climbed halfway toward Sam, purring in an attempt to soothe her eyes open. "I wish you'd climb up just one more." Their long necks and pliant bodies made them able to reach farther up a tree than they might seem to be able to. She looked out at the Jockal again, and she didn't say aloud that she knew it wouldn't leave them alone anytime soon. She fully expected to be trapped in that tree well after nightfall, if the monster didn't reach them before then.

August watched, infuriated, as his guards hightailed it back to the lair, not even looking back in their race for their own lives. It was just as well -- he knew he could never have trusted them to watch his back.

The Jockal continued circling the tree restlessly, occasionally digging its claws into the trunk and craning its neck to get a better whiff of Sam. It bared its teeth, set its paws down again and continued circling. It had no interest in anything else.

The Marshal, glaring hatefully at the creature, began shedding armor. His gauntlets hit the ground, then his chainmail, even his boots. The Jockal was big enough that it could finish him in two bites: armor meant nothing, and he needed all the speed he could get. When all his armor was piled shining in the leaves, he was still dressed in the Queen's violet and gold, still hateful and stone-eyed, but he appeared smaller than he had been before.

He stepped forward without a word, and he watched the beast circle round and round the tree; it was completely ignorant of him in favor of Sam. The third time it passed by him, August waited for its scaly tail to skid past in the leaves. He raised his sword high and swung it down like a guillotine -- he lopped off the very tip of the monster's tail.

While the Jockal screeched a blood-curdling cry, the Marshal shouldered his sword and ran, leaping over rocks and fallen logs, faster than he'd ever run before, back toward the Queen's hollow. The stories of knights that slayed dragons single-handedly were only stories. The truth of the matter was that the slowest got eaten and the quick got away. At the very least he could distract it while the princess escaped -- but he had no intention of being eaten, either.

The Jockal, mad with rage, abandoned Sam and the tree; with a snarl and a rush and a crash of leaves and branches it galloped after August's retreating form, its tail thrashing saplings from their roots, destruction in its wake.