Che leaned his human torso back against his animal torso, fluffed out his wings a bit, and closed his eyes. He breathed evenly, looking quite relaxed. Jenny envied him that ability; she was unable to relax despite the sense it made. Her mind was too busy with the events of the past day.

How far away and long ago her normal life on the World of Two Moons seemed! That business of the giant single moon—

She shook her head. There was no sense dwelling on that. Once they escaped, and she had Sammy back, and Che was safe with his mother, then she could see about returning to her normal and familiar world. But all that was so far beyond her present situation of fatigue, dirt, and horror that she would do best to put it out of her mind.

The trouble with trying to put things out of her mind was that then they just came right back into it stronger than ever. What were her folks thinking now? Surely they were wondering what had happened to her, and worrying—no, she had to stop thinking about that!

Unless—unless she could send to her holt and make her situation known. Sending was the mind contact between people of her kind that enabled them to find each other or to give warning of danger without shouting. Why hadn't she thought of that before?

She concentrated, sending. But there was no response. She was out of range of her kind, and the folk of Xanth could neither send nor receive. Now she felt more truly alone than ever before.

She had only one remaining resource, the one that was most private to her. She could invoke it only when alone, but she was alone now, for Che was asleep.

She began to hum, and then to sing. Jenny never sang in company, because it was just too complicated to try to explain what it meant to her. But when she was alone or with her friends, it was a great comfort. Her friends were Sammy and the flowers and the colored stones around her holt, or maybe just herself when she had some chore to do. When she sang it made her surroundings seem brighter and warmer and nicer, and though she knew it wasn't real—that is, that no one else would see it that way—it was always a comfort to her.

In her fancy as she sang, there was a Princess, and a castle atop a mountain, and a strange handsome Prince, and a dragon who was somehow the same as the Prince. Jenny had never seen a dragon or known that any such creature existed, yet she somehow understood the nature of this creature and respected it. It was like a big winged snake with fire in its belly. And the Princess loved the Prince-dragon, but—

Feet tramped up close to the door. Jenny's song and fancy cut off instantly.