With a deep breath, she ducked under the water and pushed off with her feet. It was difficult to swim with her staff in hand, and she hoped she did not have far to go. A flurry of small forms bumped into her along the way, which was uncomfortable and disconcerting, and she struggled to remain oriented. She used the staff to feel for the end of the stone, and as soon as it gave way, she thrust herself to the surface. Icy night air greeted her, and she gasped for breath.

"Stay in the water for now," Brother Vaughn said as he gained the rocky shore. A full moon shed plenty of light to see by, and Catrin watched as Brother Vaughn gathered wood for a fire. She could see the mist of his breath before him, and she knew he must be freezing. With wet and shaking hands, he attempted to kindle a fire, but it refused to catch. Catrin and Benjin wanted to climb free of the water, but they were already soaked to the bone, and the cold air would assault them, just as it sent shudders through Brother Vaughn's form. For the moment, they held their packs high and waited.

A small orange glow gave them hope, and Brother Vaughn blew gently. A wisp of smoke rose into the air, and the crackle of burning pine needles carried across the water. At the first sign of flames, Catrin pulled herself from the water, but she soon regretted it. They would need a sizable bonfire to keep the frigid winds at bay, and she paced around the meager fire, rubbing her hands along her raised flesh, hoping to generate warmth and stave off the numbness.

As she paced along the shore, she tripped on an unexpected obstruction. The fire suddenly leaped higher as Benjin tossed more pine needles on, and Catrin could see the obstacle: it was the skeletal remains of a large animal. Perhaps a horse or bear, she was not certain. In the light of the growing fire, she saw other skeletons of various sizes.

"What danger did you fear when you swam through?" Catrin asked.

"Daggerfish," Brother Vaughn replied, and Catrin was shocked by his words. She had learned of daggerfish many years ago. They were said be capable of removing the flesh from a horse in a matter of moments, which was further evidenced by the bleached remains strewn along the shore. Though small, daggerfish possessed razor-sharp teeth and voracious appetites. They were said to travel in schools, and their attack was likened to a cloud of death.

"You suspected there were daggerfish in these waters?" Catrin asked, incredulous.

"Suspected? No. I knew for a fact these waters are infested with them. I was just uncertain what time of day it was. Had I been wrong, we would not be speaking now," he said with a shrug.

Catrin was too stunned to speak, and she just stared at him in horror.

"It is a little-known fact, you see, that daggerfish will not feed under a full moon. Most folks are warded off by the evidence of their presence, and few are willing to risk their lives to find out such a thing."

Chills ran along Catrin's spine as she realized it was the daggerfish she had bumped into during her swim, and she shivered. She could not imagine what it would be like to be torn apart by razor-sharp teeth, but macabre visions filled her mind.

"I'm truly sorry for not telling you, but many would have balked no matter what I said; thus, I left you in ignorance. Please accept my apologies," Brother Vaughn said, looking sheepish.

"Well. We're still alive, thanks to you," Catrin said, "and I'm grateful for that, but please, if ever we are in a similar situation, apprise me of the danger. I would rather know what death I face," Catrin said, and Brother Vaughn nodded his assent, however unlikely it was they would ever be in similar circumstances.

The heat of the fire seeped into Catrin's clothes, and steam rose from them as they dried. The surrounding land soared at steep angles, with the exception of the north, where it opened into a rolling forest. The trees were not as large as greatoaks, but they were some of the largest oaks, elms, and sycamores in the world.

"Our fire should only be visible in the forest to the north, which is, for the most part, uninhabited. It should signal Barabas of our need, and I hope he'll arrive before long. I don't want to leave before you have become acquainted, but if he does not arrive soon, I will have to leave you," Brother Vaughn said, and they settled around the fire to wait.

Catrin turned her back to the fire so it would dry the rest of her clothes. The chill had mostly left her, but still she shivered.

Benjin wandered nearby as he gathered bits of wood for the fire.

Brother Vaughn rested. "Will you wake me after two turns of the sand clock?"

"Yes," Benjin said, accepting the sand clock. "I'll keep watch until then."

Catrin's thoughts wandered to Vertook. In all the chaos, she hadn't had time to properly grieve his loss. He'd been a good friend to her, and his death was as unfair as anything Catrin had ever experienced. The pointless waste of life filled her with rage, and she longed to lash out at someone-anyone. Benjin seemed to sense her unrest, and he placed his arm around her shoulders. She shared his warmth but found no solace.

Too much had been taken from her in such a short time, and she began to harden to the cares of the world. Why should she even attempt to save the Zjhon from the Statue of Terhilian when they would kill everyone around her to prevent that very thing? Perhaps she should simply let them suffer the consequences of their folly, but the thought rang discordant, and she knew she could never be so callous; it was simply not her nature. She cared deeply about every living thing, and no amount of hardship could change that, she hoped.

Her thoughts turned to the gods and the origins of her world. She'd heard fanciful stories about gods gambling on the outcome of seemingly random events and cheating each other with their subtle influences on the lives of men. Those tales had never rung true for Catrin; it seemed too petty a pastime for beings capable of creating such a beautiful and amazing place.

Considering what she'd heard about ancient peoples making up stories of gods in order to explain the unknown, she wondered if people in the future would look back on her generation and laugh at their misconceptions. Perhaps they will laugh away many of society's current superstitions and beliefs, and yet they will still probably have their own delusions.

She wondered where the religious pomp and ceremony had come from and who had written the sacred writings. As far as she knew, no one in at least a thousand years had written anything considered sacred, and she wondered why the old writings were sanctified. She began to think the sacred texts had been written by ordinary men and were littered with the opinions of those men, who claimed to have been influenced by the gods.

Catrin had seen what society did to those who claimed anything close to divine inspirations. She had seen Nat Dersinger ostracized for that very reason, and she had been a party to it. She'd held tightly to the beliefs taught by ancient prophets and had cast insults at a living prophet. How could one believe prophets existed in ancient times but somehow could not exist now? The realization shamed her, even if it conflicted with Mother Gwendolin's teachings.

It took time to reconcile herself to many of her feelings, and she had more questions than answers. She imagined what life would be like if she had all of the answers, and she decided it would be much easier but excessively boring. If she always knew what was about to happen, then there would never be any excitement or surprises in life, and though she was weary of surprises and excitement, she could not picture life without them.