“What if we’re captured?” Her voice cracked with fear and echoed loudly against the stone walls.

I agreed, that thought was unpalatable. “Then we’ll have other things to worry about.”

She blanched and the wrinkles on her face deepened. At that moment, she appeared to be in her early sixties—ten years older than her true age.

“Even though we’re in enemy territory, we have Kerrick and should be able to avoid a run-in with unfriendlies,” I said so she wouldn’t panic.

“If he’s not too exhausted from doing guard duty all afternoon.” Quain smirked.

I ignored him. All but Flea had roused at Estrid’s cry. I checked on him. No sweat on his brow, or other symptoms of a fever. No mumbling or agitation. He appeared to be in a deep sleep. I searched my memories. When he had awoken Quain from the stasis, he’d gotten sick to his stomach, but hadn’t acted tired.

I debated touching him. He’d refused my help earlier, but if he was this worn-out, we couldn’t leave tonight as planned. Plus I was responsible for him. Placing my fingers on the back of his hand, I sought signs of an illness, and, finding none, I shared my energy with him. I pulled away before he could drain me dry.

As he woke, I straightened.

He stared at me with confusion for a moment, then asked, “Is it time to go?”

“Soon. How do you feel?”

Flea sat up. “Better. Hungry. Is there any stew left?”

Glad he didn’t flinch because of my proximity, I said, “Just save a bowl for Kerrick.”

“He must be starved. I’ll go relieve him,” Quain said.

“He won’t come in,” I said.

“Why not?”

Aware that everyone’s attention was focused on me, I did a little creative explaining. “He’s keeping track of the enemy patrols with his tree mojo, and if he comes inside, he might lose them.” I smoothed my tunic. “I told him I’d bring him a bowl.”

Loren said, “Once Flea’s done stuffing his face, I’ll take it out.”

“Hey,” Flea protested around a mouthful.

“In the meantime, we should prepare to go,” Loren said.

Since I hadn’t unpacked, I waited by the fire as they rolled up their bedrolls and Flea finished his stew. When Loren was ready, he brought the pot out for Kerrick.

The events over the past day repeated in my mind. I hoped the rest of my team had escaped the blockade.

“Did Odd get out?” I asked Quain.

He shrugged. “Don’t know. Once we realized you weren’t following us, we changed direction to find you.” He glanced at Estrid. “We were mad that you’d run off, but, considering the outcome...”

But at what price? We’d lost a number of soldiers in the battle to escape the manor house.

Loren returned. “Time to go.”