She was still too far away to catch up to them when she saw Connor lift a hand in greeting as he passed the stableyard and continued on to the bridge that would take him and the other escorts to the next Clan territory.

She slowed the mare to a walk, letting the animal make its own way to the stableyard. She couldn't see well enough to guide it since her eyes kept filling with tears.

The mare stopped. A hand lightly touched hers.

"Lady Dianna?"

Sniffling, she looked at that Clan's Lord of the Horse-and suddenly

remembered that no one had ascended to become the Lord of the Horse after Ahern died."Your escorts rode by a little while ago," he said, studying her.

"I couldn't ride anymore today. My arm." She lifted the heavily bandaged arm-and thought she still saw doubt in his eyes. "I told them to go on since the Brightwood Clan will be eager for the news."

"The news has traveled fast," he said with a hint of grimness. "I expect they already know."

What could they possibly know without hearing her side of it?He held up both hands. "Here. I'll help you dismount and take you over to the Clan house. Things are a bit... scrambled ... right now, but someone will see that you have a meal and a place to rest."

Dianna waited until he was leading her to the Clan house before asking,

"Scrambled? Why are things scrambled?"

"As I said, news travels fast. The men who have the skill and training to defend the Old Place are preparing to do so. And the elders are selecting gifts to bring to the witches."

Bitterness filled Dianna's throat. "So you're going to dance to the Huntress's

tune, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it. We don't want to be closed off from the human world-and if the Black Coats defeat the humans in Sylvalan, there might not be any place for us in the world. So we're going down to defend the Old Place and the witches who live there."

"I'll only be staying tonight, so I won't inconvenience you for too long,"

Dianna said, holding on to her battered pride.

"That's fine."

It wasn't the reply she wanted, but, she discovered as she stayed in her room and felt the hours drag by, it had been the only reply she'd received from any of them.

If that's the way they wanted it, so be it. Let them scramble to please the new Huntress. Let them see what it was like to live day after day in the human world.

Let that bitch Huntress deal with the Black Coats. They deserved one another.

Chapter 21.

waxing moon

It hungered. It hunted. The man had been a fine meal, but the feast was still up ahead. Running. Trying to escape, trying to hide. The woman couldn't hide the feast, but it was amusing to let her try.

It looked down at the man, at the torn flesh and the blood seeping into the forest trail. His spirit had been strong, delicious. Had whetted Its appetite for more.

The woman would eventually stop running and fight to protect. No matter. It would have the woman-flesh, blood, and spirit-and then enjoy the feast of sweet young flesh and a spirit still so new in the world.

It hungered.

With a last look at the man who had been a young Lord of the Woods, It ran up the forest trail, following the path of the witch ... and the feast.

Pulled out of her own hazy dreams, Ashk rolled out of bed, approached the bed where Morag thrashed and moaned, and placed a hand on her friend's shoulder.

Morag screamed, dove off the bed, and came up in a crouch, her teeth bared.

Her dark eyes looked wild and held no recognition of the person standing before her.

Ashk slowly raised her hands in a placating gesture, and said firmly, "Morag. It's Ashk. You were dreaming. Morag."

Slowly-too slowly-understanding seeped into Morag's eyes.

Ashk stayed perfectly still. The Gatherer wasn't a woman to startle when she wasn't quite in her right mind.

A second later, Ashk's heart jumped when someone pounded on the door,

and a male voice yelled, "Hunter! Hunter! Are you all right?"

A quick glance at Morag, who was now staring at the door with deadly intent.

"We're all right!" Ashk yelled. "We're all right," she said quietly, looking at Morag, hoping the woman understood.

Her sharp hearing made out a low, intense argument on the other side of the

door. Not the words, but the tone.

Stay out, she thought fiercely as the door opened enough for Morphia to start to slip into the room.Ashk shook her head. Morphia looked at Morag, then at Ashk before withdrawing and closing the door behind her.

Ashk stepped back until her knees bumped against her bed. She sat down and studied Morag, who was slumped over the other bed.

"Bad dream?" Ashk asked quietly.

Morag nodded.

"The same dream?"

Pushing her hair away from her face, Morag shifted until she sat back on her

heels. "Not quite the same. Worse in some ways."

"Is that why you wanted to share a room with me? So you wouldn't be alone at night?"

Morag nodded. "And because you ... understand the shadows."

She didn't like these dreams Morag kept having. She didn't like knowing the

Gatherer of Souls was walking a knife edge of self-control. She didn't like seeing a friend suffer night after night. Morag wouldn't talk about the dreams, and without knowing even a little of the content, even Morphia, the Sleep Sister, couldn't understand what was haunting her sister.

"Perhaps you should turn back," Ashk said gently. "Perhaps you should go

back to Bretonwood."

"No," Morag said, her voice rough. "I have to go on. It's deadly, Ashk. I have to find it before it kills everyone I-" Her teeth clicked together as she bit off the words. "I have to go on."

"All right." Ashk rose. "Come on, then. Best to meet the joys of the day."

When Morag just looked at her, she smiled grimly. "I spent yesterday afternoon in the women's room, so the fact that I'm female is no longer a secret from the Fae beyond the west. And there's been enough time for that news to travel, so I expect any Lord of the Woods within a few hours' ride of this Clan house will have arrived by now."

Morag frowned. "You think someone will challenge you because you're a

woman?"

"A challenge can be issued anytime two people with the same gift are in the same place. It doesn't usually happen unless the power is waning in the one who rules the gift since the challenger can lose a great deal more than the

challenge." Ashk shrugged. "But I expect there will be a young Lord among those gathered outside the Clan house who will be foolish enough to issue a challenge. A tool for the lesson, I suppose."

Morag rose, her eyes now filled with uneasiness and concern. "Ashk?"

Ashk shook her head. She wanted a quick bath to start the day clean. It wasn't likely it would end clean. "As you said, Morag. I understand the shadows."

The dreams haunted her. Ashk scared her.