Coldly, he wondered if whoever was in his house could be the same person who had murdered his father. His house was torn up just like his father’s had been. Could they have been waiting for him as they had waited for his father? Could it be the same person? Richard wished he could have confronted him, or at least seen who it was, but something inside him had strongly warned him to get away.

He gave himself a mental shake. He was letting his imagination have too free a rein. Of course something inside had warned him of danger, warned him to get away. He had already gotten away with his life when he shouldn’t have once this day. It was foolish to trust in luck once—twice was arrogance of the worst kind. It was best to walk away.

Still, he wished he could have seen who it was, been sure there was no connection. Why would someone tear his house apart, as his father’s had been torn apart? What if it was the same person? He wanted to know who had killed his father. He burned to know.

Even though he had not been allowed to see his father’s body at his house, he had wanted to know how he was killed. Chase had told him, very gently, but he had told him. His father’s belly had been cut open and his guts had been spread out all over the floor. How could anyone do that? Why would anyone do that? It made him sick and light-headed to think of it again. Richard swallowed back the lump in his throat.

“Well?” Her voice jolted him out of his thoughts.

“What? Well, what?”

“Well, did you get whatever it was you went to get?”

“Yes.”

“So what was it?”

“What was it? It was my backpack. I had to get my backpack.”

She turned to face him with both hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. “Richard Cypher, you expect me to believe you risked your life to get your backpack?”

“Kahlan, you are coming close to getting kicked.” He couldn’t manage a smile.

Her head was cocked to the side, and she continued to give him a sideways look, but his remark had taken the fire out of her. “Fair enough, my friend,” she said gently, “fair enough.”

He could tell Kahlan was a person who was used to getting answers when she asked a question.

As the light faded and colors muted into grayness, Richard started thinking of places to spend the night. He knew of several wayward pines along the way that he had used on many occasions. There was one at the edge of a clearing, just off the trail ahead. He could see the tall tree standing out against the fading pinks of the sky, standing above all the other trees. He led Kahlan off the trail toward it.

The tooth hanging around his neck nagged at him. His secrets nagged at him. He wished his father had never made him the keeper of the secret book. A thought that had occurred to him back at his house, but he had ignored, forced itself to the front of his mind. The books at his house looked like they had been torn apart in a rage. Maybe because none was the right book. What if it was the secret book they were looking for? But that was impossible—no one but the true owner even knew of the book.

And his father… and himself… and the thing the tooth came from. The thought was too farfetched to consider, so he decided he wouldn’t. He tried very hard not to.

Fear, from what had happened on Blunt Cliff and from what had been waiting for him at his house, seemed to have sapped his strength. His feet felt almost too heavy to lift as he trudged across the mossy ground. Just before he went through the brush into the clearing he stopped to swat a fly that was biting his neck.

Kahlan grabbed his wrist in midswat.

Her other hand clamped over his mouth.

He went rigid.

Looking into his eyes, she shook her head, then released his wrist, putting the hand behind his head while continuing to keep her other hand over his mouth. By the expression on her face he knew she was terrified he would make a sound. She slowly lowered him to the ground, and by his cooperation he let her know he would obey.

Her eyes held him as hard as her hands. Continuing to watch his eyes, she put her face so close to his he could feel the warmth of her breath on his cheek.

“Listen to me.” Her whisper was so low he had to concentrate to hear her. “Do exactly as I say.” The expression on her face made him afraid to blink. “Do not move. No matter what happens do not move. Or we are dead.” She waited. He gave a small nod. “Let the flies bite. Or we are dead.” She waited again. He gave another small nod.

With a flick of her eyes she indicated for him to look across the clearing. He slowly moved his head just a little so he could see. There was nothing. She kept her hand over his mouth. He heard a few grunts, like those of a wild boar.

Then he saw it.

He flinched involuntarily. She clamped her hand harder against his mouth.

From across the clearing, fading evening light reflected in two glowing green eyes as their gaze swept in his direction. It stood on two feet, like a man, and was about a head taller than him. He guessed it weighed three times as much. Flies bit his neck, but he tried to ignore them.

He looked back to her eyes. She had not looked at the beast—she knew what waited across the clearing. Instead she continued to watch him, waiting to see if he would react in a way that would betray them. He nodded again to reassure her. Only then did she remove her hand from his mouth and put it over his wrist, holding it to the ground. Trickles of blood ran across her neck as she lay motionless on the soft moss, letting the flies bite. He could feel each sharp sting as they bit his neck. Grunts cane short and low, and both turned their heads slightly to see.

With astonishing speed, it charged into the center of the clearing, moving in a shuffling, sideways motion. It grunted as it came. Glowing green eyes searched, while its long tail slowly swished the air. The beast cocked its head to the side and pricked its short, rounded ears ahead, listening. Fur covered the great body everywhere except its chest and stomach, which were covered with a smooth, glossy, pinkish skin that rippled with corded muscles underneath. Flies buzzed around something smeared over the taut skin. Throwing back its head, the beast opened its mouth, hissing into the cold night air. Richard could see the hot breath turning to vapor between teeth as big as his fingers.

To keep from shrieking in terror, Richard concentrated on the pain of the biting flies. They could not sneak away, or run—the thing was that close and, he knew, that fast.

A scream erupted from the ground right in front of them, making Richard flinch. Instantly the beast charged toward the two of them in a sideways run. Kahlan’s fingers dug into his wrist, but otherwise she didn’t move. Richard was paralyzed as he saw it pounce.

A rabbit, its ears covered with flies, bolted right in front of them, screaming again, and was swept up and torn in half in a blink. The front half went down in one swallow. The beast stood right over them and tore at the insides of the rabbit, taking some of the gore and smearing it on its pink-skinned chest and stomach. The flies, even the ones biting Richard’s and Kahlan’s necks, returned to the creature to feast. The rest of the rabbit was taken by each hind leg, ripped in half, and eaten.

When done, the beast cocked its head again, listening. The two of them were right underneath it, both holding their breath. Richard wanted to scream.

Large wings spread from its back. Against the failing light, Richard could see the veins pulsing through the thin membranes that were its wings. The beast took one last look around and skittered sideways across the clearing. It straightened, hopped twice, and flew off, disappearing in the direction of the boundary. The flies were gone with it.