It was over in about ten minutes. The Centaurs and Were-kin devastated their human adversaries, the Were-kin with their ferocity and their invulnerability to the human weapons, and the Centaurs with lightning-fast strikes at a full gallop. They charged around the village, up and down the hill, killing any Dal soldier they caught in the open as they scrambled to flee from their inhuman adversaries. Those men that did manage to flee down the hill away from the mass of Centaurs and Were-kin found themselves hurtling right into the teeth of the Sulasian Rangers, who had set their bows down, drawn their swords, and had vengeance burning in their eyes as they engaged the routed Dal troops. Tarrin didn't bother to rush to the attack, instead walking calmly towards the village and watching the fight, seeing Centaurs mowing down Dals, and to their credit, catching up the terrified villagers and galloping down the hill with them to get them out of harm's way. Tarrin started up the hill when all the Dals left in the village had either been killed or had thrown down their weapons and surrendered, when only the fight between the Rangers and the routed Dal forces still fighting continued. He reached the top of the hill just as the last of the Dals gave up, throwing down their weapons and surrendering to the tight lines of the Sulasian Rangers.

It was an overwhelming victory, but it was not a victory that Tarrin savored. It was but a start to what had to be done, and the greater challenges stood in front of them. Tarrin put out the fire with Sorcery, snuffing it out as if it had never been, then looked down at the body of a Dal soldier who had been felled by an arrow. He felt nothing for the man. Absolutely nothing. In a way, that frightened him, and it frightened him badly. That was how he used to be, and he was afraid of ending up there again. But it was also what was necessary to protect Suld, to protect the Goddess, to protect his daughter. Looking down at that dead body, he realized that he would do absolutely anything, no matter how vile or evil or monstrous, to protect Jasana. Even if he had to be like Mist, he would protect his family.

The world was not worth the life of that little girl.

Tarrin stood at the top of the hill, at the center of Watch Hill, and watched with detached interest as the Sulasian Rangers rounded up the surviving prisoners, then met the lead Centaurs at the northwestern base of the hill. Now they would join, become a true army, and they would go on to liberate Torrian.

They could not be stopped.

It was like a different world.

Tarrin padded along a slight game trail, pushing a branch out of his face absently as he homed in on the sounds of voices. The voices of Jasana, Jesmind, and Kimmie. He had left the village and everyone behind as they began to clean up, not bothering to see Sathon or Mikos or any of the others. After all, he wasn't in command of anything, so there was no reason for him to talk to anyone or tell anyone where he was going. His daughter and mate and friend were more important than finding out how many men had been killed, how many casualties their forces had suffered, or hearing them tell everyone what to do next. That didn't concern him. Arren was there, and Arren was going to be commanding the army. That was all the reason he needed to be able to walk away from them with a clear conscious. Arren was a solid, dependable man, and Tarrin would trust his judgement.

The forest was quiet. Eerily quiet. The fighting had scared away many of the animals, leaving the forest quiet and pristine in a way. The scents and sounds and sights of the human habitation were missing here out in the forest, a place where only children and solitary hunters dared to venture. It made things peaceful. Not a longspan behind him, civilization was cleaning up after a battle between two forces, but out here in the forest, it was as it had been days, months, years, centuries before. All quiet and peaceful, where the wheel of nature turned at its own pace and without interruption.

It was the ideal place for his mate and daughter to hide from the ugliness of war, a good place for the gentle Kimmie to be rather than going against her nature and killing people. Strange to think that two worlds could exist so close to one another.

Tarrin stepped into a very small meadow that was split in half by a small, straight stream. Jesmind was sitting at the bank with Jasana in her lap, as Kimmie laid at the bank with a paw holding steadily over the water. "The trick of it, cub, is to aim high," Kimmie told her, watching the water intently. "The water bends what you're seeing, so you have to aim high to hit the fish." Kimmie's paw plunged into the water, and then recoiled so fast that the water seemed to be ripped open. She had a small fish in her paw, clasped in her fingers.

"I smell papa," Jasana said with sudden excitement, turning in Jesmind's lap. "Papa!" she cried out when she saw him step into the small meadow.

Jesmind nodded to him as he stepped up to them, and Kimmie let the fish drop back into the water and stood up. "I take it it's over?" Jesmind asked.

"What little it was," he replied. "The Dals never had a chance. I came to get you."

"What's the matter, Tarrin?" Jesmind asked in a sober tone. "You seem, upset."

"I guess I am, a little," he sighed, sitting down at the side of the stream with Jesmind. Kimmie sat down in front of him, and Jasana squirmed over onto his lap and started playing with the end of his tail. "I know we have to do this, but I really don't want to do it. I saw them fighting, and it didn't move me in any way. That scares me, Jesmind."

"Why?"

"Because that's how I used to feel," he told her. "I used to not feel anything except the fear. I worked very hard and went through alot to get back to where I am now, and I guess I'm afraid that having to fight in this war is going to put me right back where I was."

"Then don't fight," Kimmie told him simply. "They have enough people for that. What's missing one Were-cat? They'll still have six."

A small lick of fire appeared over his paw, created by the simplest of one-weave spells. " This is why, Kimmie," he sighed. "My magic could possibly turn a battle."

"Listen to you," she laughed.

"He's not joking, Kimmie," Jesmind said seriously. "Mother told me about him. He could burn Torrian to the ground, and nobody could stop him."

"Killing people on that kind of a scale isn't something you take lightly," he sighed. He shivered slightly as the memory of doing just that crossed over his mind, a memory of thousands dying by his magic when he destroyed the arena at Dala Yar Arak. It was still a painful memory, and it always would be. To even consider that he may have another memory of that magnitude sharing space with it in his mind made him very, very nervous. Then he clenched his fist, smothering the small flame within it. "I know what I have to do, and that's that. I don't have much choice," he said in a strong voice. "If I have to fight, then I'll fight."

"Then don't worry about what may come, my mate. Live in the moment," Jesmind said gently, putting her paw on his forearm. She slid her fingers down to his wrist, where the manacle would have been, then clasped his wrist in a gentle grip. "Right now is all that matters. And right now, you don't have to worry about that."

He looked at her, then he couldn't help but smile gratefully. That did make him feel better. "Unfortunately, right now, we do have to go back," he sighed.

"Do we?" Jesmind asked pointedly. "They can find us. I'm certain that when the time comes for us to leave, they'll send someone to come get us."

He looked at her, then he chuckled. "You know, you have a point," he admitted. "They can just come get us, can't they?"

"They can. I think a little time over here would be better for you than going back over there. Why don't you magic us up some lunch, and we'll have a nice quiet picnic?" she asked with a gentle smile.