"How does she bear it?" Magiere said. "Living among people who will always see her as different?"

Wynn, halfway into her bed, pulled up a blanket."Who… oh, Leanalham? Perhaps…" She shook her head sadly and lay down. "I do not know. But her name means 'Child of Misfortune'."

Magiere's ire rose, smothering her edgy state. She had her own meaning for such a label. Magelia, her mother, had been forced to give birth, and had died shortly after. What could be more unfortunate than that in bearing children?

And though Leanalham had her grandfather and, oddly enough, Sgaile, the girl was branded with a name that marked her for life. Like Leesil's own mother, how much cruelty could these people heap upon their children?

Magiere lay beneath her blanket a long while. She heard Wynn's breathingslow and deepen. She watched Leesil until certain he'd drifted into fitful sleep, then closed her own eyes, trying to rest. The night became endless under the persistent quiver in her body.

She found herself standing in the dark amid the forest; then she saw a shadow shift among the trees, coming closer.

It stepped so softly that footfalls came and went beneath the rustle of branches and underbrush in the light breeze. When she looked about, she saw no other dark shapes that had shadowed her through the night so many times before.

Magiere heard and felt something skitter across her foot.

Leaning against her boot was a freshly fallen oak leaf, still green and satin. She stooped and reached for it. At the touch of her finger, a brown spot appeared on it.

The dry color spread through the leaf's veins as its tissue faded and dried until fully wilted. Decay set in.

She jerked her hand away, rising up. The leaf rotted, then crumbled and came apart. Its fragments scattered across the ground in the night breeze.

A deeply shadowed figure stood quiet and still in the dark between two oaks. Something glinted in its hand… a stiletto. Even at night her eyes picked up a sheen brighter than silver. The glimmer of elven eyes showed within the figure's raised cowl.

Magiere reached for her falchion, gripping the hilt without taking her eyes off the anmaglahk, but she hesitated. Was it an anmaglahk? His forearm was bare-except for a wrist sheath. At his shoulder, she saw the hint of leather… of a hauberk?

She froze before the silent figure facing her in the dark. Rings of metal were bound in a weave of leather straps on the hauberk's front.

"Leesil?" Magiere whispered.

The figure didn't answer. Only the blade's tip tilted slowly up at her.

She pulled the falchion, backing away. "Leesil!"

Magiere half-awoke from the dream and thrashed the blanket aside. She scrambled across the pillow and backed against the small room's wall, looking about in terror. Her dhampir nature rose and widened her senses.

Leesil shifted in his slumber, rolling over with a mumble. Wynn didn't stir.

Magiere felt the rough bark through the elven felt jerkin she wore. Its touch made her back muscles spasm. Her shudders settled inward and grew to a hum in her flesh.

She fell forward onto hands and knees, and then collapsed in a heap when her shaking arms wouldn't hold. She curled in a ball upon her bed. The tremors slowly subsided. She wanted to reach for Leesil, to wake him.

But it had only been a dream… one more nightmare that plagued her sleep since they'd come into this forest. And for all she'd endured, Leesil's burden seemed far greater here.

Magiere turned about to put her head upon the pillow. Try though she might, she couldn't rest quietly, nor think clearly. Her muscles would not unclench.

Leesil roused slowly the next morning from a restless sleep filled with unwanted dreams-of his mother, and of a young Anmaglahk's split throat, the man's blood soaking into his breeches. When he stepped out into the main room, Magiere was already up.

She sat on the moss next to the chest, with Chap sprawled out beside her as she stared blankly at nothing. A clay cup of steaming tea sat next to her, but it looked untouched. Their cloak-bundled weapons were gone.

Leesil looked about and found the bundle stacked by the outer doorway with the rest of their gear. There was also an extra pack of dark canvas he didn't recognize.

He should have known Magiere would hardly be sitting quietly if her falchion were missing. Before he was ready to deal with the day, their hosts were up and about, taking away any private chance to learn what troubled Magiere.

Leanalham descended the stairs without a sound. She saw him, and this time smiled slightly before slipping out the front doorway. Sgaile crouched to tuck something in the new pack. Gleann came down and followed his grandniece outside, but the two quickly returned as Wynn came out rubbing her face with a yawn.

Leanalham and Gleann each returned with a wooden platter of food. Sgaile took some as they passed and returned to fussing with the gear. Leesil didn't like him digging about in their stuff.

Gleann unrolled a felt rug upon the moss, and breakfast was served: wheat biscuits with nuts, more bisselberries, smoked fish, and a thickened hot porridge smelling of cinnamon.

While Leesil satisfiedhimself on the latter, Magiere sat quietly beside him and touched none of the food. He nudged her several times, but she shook her head. She didn't even react when Chap snuck in and snatched a whole fillet of smoked fish before anyone could stop him. Wynn scolded the dog, brushing off dried mud he'd left on the felt spread. She loaded a plate to set behind herself, just for him.

As everyone finished, Magiere stood. Sgaile looked her up and down. Whether he studied her or the new clothes she wore, Leesil didn't care for it.

"Your own clothes are clean," Sgaile said, "and packed. It would be best for all of you to wear what you have on for the journey."

What was he up to?

"Where's my armor?" Magiere asked sharply. "If you think I'm walking about without protection, waiting for another of yours to jump us… think again."

Sgaile held up his hands with a frustrated sigh.

"Your protection is my concern," he said. "From afar at least, your present attire will draw less attention."

Leesil just frowned. Magiere didn't look any less foreign in loose brown elven pants and a yellow jerkin. She might be tall for a woman, but she wasn't built like an elf. And he was pretty sure Wynn wore the clothing of an elvish youth, but the bottoms of her drawstring pants were rolled up to keep from dragging. Her clothes were too long for her short stature.

"I do not mind," Wynn offered. "These are quite comfortable, but I will take my own cloak."

Osha stuck his head in through the doorway curtain, long white-blond hair hanging across his shoulders.

"Prepared?" he asked in Belaskian.

Leesil didn't have time to wonder where the young anmaglahk and Urhkar had been all night. No one answered before Sgaile continued.

"There is much to carry, and we travel with haste. If you would allow, one of mine can carry your blades. They will all be at hand if needed."

"What?" Magiere spit back. "We disarmed for coming into your village-and little good it did! You keeping our weaponswasn't part of the arrangement."

Leesil agreed, though he grudgingly wondered if Sgaile made a valid point.

"Let's leave it be," he told her, "at least until we're out of this place."

Magiere turned her nervous glare on him. She shuddered suddenly and then turned away.

"I think Urhkar would be best to carry them," Wynn added.

"No," Magiere said flatly. "Sgaile will carry them."

Her choice baffled Leesil, but only for a moment. The way she looked at Sgaile, she was almost daring him to agree.If it came to taking their arms by force…

Leesil understood Magiere's choice and grew nervous at what it meant.