With a bit of time to spare while the meat heated, she let her mind wander. The spell she'd managed to cast had muddied her thoughts more than a night collapsed in freezing cold could repair. The lingering cobwebs led her mind in slow, meandering circles around a fleeting concern. Something about the battleground she'd passed through to reach this place. It didn't seem like Myn was involved in that first clash . . . but someone must have been. Someone who could take four well equipped soldiers before . . . before what? And why were there soldiers in Ravenwood to begin with?

The smell of burning food brought her thoughts back to reality. It seemed she had daydreamed just long enough for her food to leap from one side of edibility to the other. The meager chunk of meat was now a charred piece of sinew dangling from the end of the stick. Left with little recourse she took the piece into her hand and surveyed it with a frown before trying her best to gnaw off a bite to choke down. It was like chewing on leather. The crunching footsteps of Myn's return made her decide that it was better to go without than to risk whatever damage she might do to her stomach by swallowing the shriveled wreck. As if to add insult to injury, Myn carried with her another fresh kill.

"Another one?" Myranda said with a frown, spitting the taste from her mouth and tossing the glorified piece of charcoal aside. "Aren't you full yet?"

The dragon marched up and dropped her prize in front of Myranda.

"What are you doing? If you are going to eat it take it over there. I don't want to see that sight again," she requested.

The dragon just nudged the meal a bit closer with her snout and plopped down, staring expectantly at Myranda.

"Is . . . Is this for me? You little angel!" she proclaimed, throwing her arms about the Myn's neck and hugging her warmly.

The little dragon reveled in the attention, even after the hug had ended, as Myranda rained loving praise down on her while she prepared the meat. Just the sound of Myranda's voice brought joy to her heart. It was, after all, the first sound she had heard in life, and to hear it lifted by happiness and gratefulness was more than enough payment for services rendered.

Getting the turkey ready to eat without the aid of a knife proved to be quite a task, one further complicated by arms and legs still clumsy from a night in the freezing cold. Soon enough, though, she was savoring the tantalizingly fresh meat. She pulled whatever parts seemed warm enough to eat away and eagerly devoured them while the rest of the bird cooked. Before long, she had taken the edge from her hunger and then some. She was shocked by how good it was. Even the meals she ate at Wolloff's were generally composed of meat that was far from its prime. This was a meal fresher than even a king could enjoy. A final bite convinced her that the age-old phrase was wrong. Eat like a king? Ha! Eat like a dragon! She threw the leftover meat to Myn, who snapped it up quickly.

"Well, now. We have slept. We have eaten. Let us be on our way!" she said.

Her legs were the things most affected by the long cold night and did not serve her quite as well as she would have liked. She nearly fell to the ground twice while kicking snow onto the fire to extinguish it. As a result, she had to stick to traveling where the snow was thinnest, taking wide circles around the now-towering drifts that the blizzard had dumped into her return path. Luckily, the snow was thick and heavy, with only the top few inches thin enough to sink into. Otherwise, even the shallow valleys between drifts would swallow her up to her waist. After a few minutes of walking, her legs finally seemed to remember how to handle the snow, and walking became less of a conscious affair. It only then that she noticed how Myn was acting.

The usually jovial beast seemed more and more spiritless with each passing moment. Her tail, normally alive with twisting and curling, hung down behind her, dragging a faint line in the snow. Every few steps she would draw in a long, slow breath through her nose and look about longingly. Myranda grew concerned. Myn had never acted this way before. For all appearances, she seemed to miss someone. But who?

"What is it, little one? Who do you miss? Was it the one the soldiers were fighting?" Myranda asked.

The duo was passing through the site of the first battle. The snow was much deeper, with only the very tops of the grave markers visible. Myranda lifted a helmet from one of the improvised memorials and showed it to the dragon.

"Did these men take it from you, the thing you miss so much?" she asked, showing Myn.

The beast's eyes locked onto the armor piece, fury burning behind them. She clamped onto the helmet with her teeth and shook it viciously. Her teeth scraped at the intricate enamel and the pressure of her jaws dented and bent the thick metal plates. She continued to thrash it about while walking until she came to a seemingly random patch of snow. She dropped the helmet and pawed at the fresh white powder madly.

"What are you doing?" Myranda asked, further confused by her companion's strange behavior.

More than two feet of digging later, the snow took on a pink tint. She buried her snout in it and inhaled deeply. After a second sniff she raised her head again, sorrow behind her eyes. She offered a long, soulful call, halfway between a howl and a moan. It was the first sound that Myranda had heard the dragon make, aside from a few hisses and grumbles. This was different. There was a voice behind it, pouring out sorrow. This was not just a mindless creature. This was a thinking, feeling being.

After a pause, with her head hung low, she locked her gaze on the helmet again. Puffing out her chest, she unleashed a burst of flame longer and hotter than Myranda had ever seen her muster. She then snatched the blackened and sizzling piece of armor out of the wet pit of melted snow and continued to gnaw and shake it, as though she was punishing it for her sorrow. Even when they began walking again, she continued her catharsis.

The sky was rosy with sunset when the two found their way to the door of the tower. No doubt due to some mystic meddling, the building and the area around it seemed wholly unaffected by the night of snowfall. Myn was fairly exhausted from her wrestling with the helmet, but refused to release it from her mouth. When Myranda pushed the door wearily open, she was greeted by a slow, deliberate clapping from Wolloff.

"Congratulations, lass. You risked your life, passed out, and nearly starved and froze, but you managed to bring back a meaningless animal safely," he said.

Myranda came inside, stomping the snow from her boots.

"And what is this?" he asked, shocked at what he saw.

"What?" Myranda asked, looking down.

Myn had followed her inside and positioned herself between Myranda and Wolloff. She dropped the helmet heavily to the floor and bared her teeth in a fearsome snarl.

"I draw the line at letting the beast use the front door," he said angrily.

"Well, tell her so," she said, in no mood to apologize.

"I am not the one that trained her," he said.

"Neither did I," came her reply. "She was only a few days old when I came to you and if I had been training her since then, I think you might have noticed."

"Then how did you get her to bring that food back for you? Don't tell me you just asked," he said.

"No, I didn't even ask her. She did it on her own . . . How did you know about that? Did you follow me?" she asked.

"No. Distance-seeing. While you were off on your fool's errand, I looked up the appropriate spell so that I could keep an eye on you. You were only a day or so away, so it was child's play. You say that the dragon decided to bring you food of its own accord?" he said, eying the creature curiously.

"She did," Myranda said.

Wolloff rubbed his chin as he looked at the dragon, who looked as though she would tear him to pieces if he took a step closer. He reluctantly allowed Myn to stay inside, with the stipulation that she behave herself. Myranda assured him that she would so long as he did the same. When Myn was satisfied that Wolloff was of no real concern, she fetched the mangled helmet, brought it to Myranda's feet, and commenced the destruction.

"You brought that from the battleground, as I recall," he said.

"Yes," she said.

"It--what's left of it, that is--looks like an Alliance helmet. A fancy one at that. I must remember to inform Caya. Troop action this far north is rare, and this deep in the forest is rarer still. I don't like it," he said.

There was very little instruction that night, with Myranda retiring gratefully to her bed soon after he prepared a meal for her. Evidently Wolloff felt that her experiences in rescuing the beast were lesson enough.

The weeks that followed passed much as those before had--with one notable exception. Myn, who was protective before, was now overprotective and always by her side. For the first two weeks, she didn't leave Myranda for even a moment, not even to hunt. She was worried for her health, but Wolloff dubiously assured her that after a big meal, a dragon could go months before eating again. In time, the dragon did leave, but only long enough to satisfy her hunger. At all other times, she was with Myranda, chewing and clawing at the helmet and watching Wolloff like a hawk.

The first order of business in terms of instruction was the addition of a spell that could be of greater use to her than any she had learned to date. It was more difficult to cast and was not always appropriate, but given enough time to do its work, the spell could heal even the direst of wounds. Wolloff called it the healing sleep, a spell that put the recipient into a deep slumber and drew upon their own spiritual strength to continuously cure whatever damage or disease was ailing the body. Myranda had difficulty testing such a spell. She could not use it on herself, and Wolloff would certainly not allow her to test it on him. She did cast it on Myn once, with great success. Unfortunately, the creature, upon waking, made it quite clear she did not like being forced into sleep, likely remembering when Wolloff had done it when they first met.

It was just past the end of the third month of training, the midpoint, before they were interrupted again. Spring should have come, but this far north, and in the Low Lands in particular, the only indication of this was a sprinkle of rain mixing with the snow occasionally. Such a storm was passing through toward the end of the daily training session in the tower when a commotion could be heard in the main room down stairs. The sound alone was enough to put Myn on guard.

"Wait here. I will see what has happened," Wolloff instructed.

The wizard clutched the amulet and cautiously descended the stairs. Myranda waited anxiously at the top of the flight, Myn standing rigidly in front of her, still clutching the chewed-up helm in her teeth. After an eternity of silence, Wolloff's voice rang out from below. It was filled with desperation and concern.

"Come quickly!" he yelled.

She rushed down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she was met with a terrible sight. It was Caya. The once proud warrior was at death's door. Blood was dried over a dozen wounds, and still ran from a half-dozen more. She looked as though she had ridden the whole night through without rest, soaked to the skin from the freezing rain and muttering, as though she had something important to say, but no words would come.

Myn looked over the battered woman. Normally she would view any human as a threat to her precious friend, but somehow she seemed to know that this was different. This was serious.

"I will tend to the more serious wounds. You put her into the healing sleep," Wolloff ordered.

Caya put her hand on the wizard's shoulder.

"No sleep!" she commanded. "No time."

The two healers did their best to close the wounds and undo the damage that had been done. As her strength began to return, Caya spoke.

"They came, they came from the south. Elites. We didn't have time! We were unprepared! How could we be prepared? The Elites are after the Red Shadow, not the Undermine! They haven't been in the Low Lands for over a year! It must be a second squad. It must be! And they are coming. They are coming for you, Myranda," Caya said, almost in a daze.

Myranda let the words enter her ears, but paid them no mind. There was a job to do. Everything else had to wait. She focused her mind around the crystal and chose the appropriate spells, casting them with equal care. The dutiful healer kept at it, making sure that every last wound was closed before she let the things that had been said enter her mind.

"What is going on? Who are the Elite?" she asked.

Caya rubbed her restored legs.

"The Elites. They are the very best of the old guard. A soldier who survives a dozen battles is a veteran. Two dozen is a legend. When a man passes into the realm of myth, he is made a member of the Elite. To form a second squad to find you, you must be worth more to them than even I had thought," Caya explained.

Myranda's head was spinning. Some of it was due to the effort of casting the spells. Mostly it was the harsh reality that was crashing down around her. She had only vaguely heard of the Elites, but she shuddered to think of the man they sought. The Red Shadow. The assassin. How could she have done something to become as highly sought as he without knowing it? The man had killed colonels, barons, ambassadors! All she had done was find a sword!

"They dismantled the headquarters. Barely escaped with my life. Lost three good men. They will be here in hours. We need to evacuate," Caya said.

"Evacuate! We cannot evacuate! What of my books!?" Wolloff said.

"Leave them!" she demanded.

"I will not!" she said.

"You must choose between your books and your life," she said.

"My books are my life!" he proclaimed, no hint of humor in his voice.

"I cannot afford to lose you, Wolloff. Move now! Time is wasting!" she commanded.

"The books are irreplaceable. They are one of a kind. If I lose them now, the knowledge within them will be lost forever. You say that you cannot afford to lose me, but it is my knowledge of these books that you need. I will not leave them!" Wolloff said.

The two strong-willed individuals launched into a simultaneous debate, both unwilling to wait for the other to finish talking. Myn became agitated, baring her teeth and scratching at the floor, ready to take action if the argument became anything more. The sound of the helmet dropping to the floor drew Caya's attention.

"Where did this beast come from?" Caya demanded.

"She belongs to Myranda. Keep your hands away from her mouth," Wolloff said.

"And the helmet? Where did she find it?" she asked.

"Some time ago, there were some soldiers to the north of here. The beast had a run-in. What does it matter?" he said.

"That is certainly an Elite helmet! They came so near to you and I was not alerted!" she cried out.

Immediately the two started yelling again. As the endless arguing raged, Myranda's mind was working quickly. There had to be some sort of solution. Slowly an idea revealed itself. It was not a perfect one, but time allowed for little else.

"Wait!" Myranda yelled.

The two turned to her.

"If we ran. All of us. Right now. What would we do?" Myranda asked.

"There is a safe house to the northeast. We would head for that. Then I would contact some of our field agents to gather enough intelligence to make a decision where to go next," Caya said.

"And how would we get there?" Myranda asked.

"With a lot of legwork and all of the luck in the world, we just might make it there with our lives," she said.

"Then we stand to gain little by running, at least together," Myranda said.

"What are you suggesting?" Wolloff said.

"They want me, right? In fact, you just might have been left alive simply to lead them to me," Myranda said.

"I had considered that," Caya said.

"Then if they find me, they will look no further," she said.

"No!" Caya said. "We need you. I won't let you turn yourself in to save us. If you do that, you seal our fate more surely than their swords ever could."

"I am not suggesting that I give myself to them. I just want them to find me. We have one horse. Yours. These men are in full armor and are likely well-equipped, am I correct?" she offered.

"Very well-equipped. It might be weeks before they need to resupply," Caya said.

"Then they are weighed down. If I go with no supplies and no armor, then I can certainly outrun them. All I need to do is let them see me, and then lead them away," she said.

"But where will you go? The safe house? Myranda, the Undermine is in chaos after this attack. If you hope to find any sanctuary, I must be with you, or you will never be trusted," Caya said.

"No safe house. If I take refuge with your people, then this will only happen again. Maybe in weeks, maybe months, but it will happen. I refuse to have my life be a burden upon you. Do you have a map?" she asked.

"Of course," Wolloff said, revealing one and spreading it on the table, knocking the contents to the floor.

"We are here, correct?" Myranda asked.

The two others nodded in unison.

"Then it can't be more than two days at full gallop to the eastern forest, Locke's Forest," she said.

"No horse, not even mine, could spend two hours, let alone two days at full gallop. The poor thing is dead on her feet as it is," the Undermine leader warned.

"I've learned a few spells that should keep her moving," Myranda said.

"Mmm. Full gallop . . . day and night . . . with no equipment . . . Perhaps you could make it in two days," Caya conceded.

"Do the soldiers patrol Locke's Forest well?" Myranda asked.

"They patrol it constantly," she answered.

"But do they patrol it well?" Myranda asked again.