She is fortified by the fire; it gives her the courage to withstand what will come and what will be. Because the fact is, there are five of the Redcaps and only one of her. Were she to fight, it would not be a battle but a massacre, and yet, her pride refuses to capitulate. Croi’s skin heats, and the Redcap holding her is unable to endure it; he lets go of her with an angry sound. She stands then, a fawn testing her new legs, and faces her would-be murderers.

The red eyes of the Redcaps are trained on her body, glittering in the weak light of the day. She is Croi, the united halves of the broken whole, and she will fight.

The Redcaps have no expressions on their faces; the flesh visible through the cracks in their skin is bleeding now. They, aware of how terrifying they are, look toward Croi as if waiting for her to falter and quail.

Croi smiles at them, gleeful and giddy. The circumstances are terrible, but she’s whole right now. All her questions have found answers. She’s one whole person and not aching halves. She is not anyone’s prey. She raises her chin, takes the heat from the fire burning in her; her smile glitters, and she waits for the Redcaps to make a move.

She knows they will. They have too much hunger and too little patience. A few seconds later, the leader of the Redcaps brings up the dagger, slices the air, marking the ground underneath. It’s a ritualistic gesture Croi doesn’t understand. Nor does she care to. Done marking, the Redcap takes a step toward her. She burns more fiercely. Death may be imminent, but so what? She’s whole. She will have no regrets even if she dies at this moment.

A chant flows through the three Redcaps who have moved to stand behind her, waiting to catch her if she runs. The leader is followed by another at his shoulder. As the Redcaps approach, Croi sees now what she didn’t before.

One red strand of magick links the Redcaps to each other; it weaves in and out of the body of each Redcap. They’re five bodies, united by one magick, and that magick appears to be failing. Croi watches as the Redcaps stumble when the magick within them sparks and goes still for a moment before moving again.

She calls to the Redcap magick, to see if she can. She croons to it. She tempts it with the strength of the two magicks racing around her body.

The Redcaps’ magick listens to her call; it is tempted by her promise of power. The red magick’s desire for her is thick in its faltering song. It sees her as fruit, ripe and luscious, to pick, to eat, to suck dry.

It is no surprise the magick accepts her invitation.

The Redcaps jerk to a stop when they feel their magick move out. The leader throws back his head and screams—the sound nightmares would make had they voices. The Redcap magick is rooted in the leader’s chest, so it hurts him most when it tries to leave.