Padric tried to keep the murder from his eyes and swallowed the bitter mixture of shame and fear that brewed after being overpowered by another. His clothes were dirty, uncomfortably pulling at his body in haphazard places. He felt weak, violated and useless, wanting nothing more than to pull the seax from the ground and bury it in the woodsman’s guts. Looking over the fire, he saw the girl, her huge fear-filled eyes darting between her father and him. Their eyes met over the flames and Padric detected a plea behind the watery orbs that all but dominated her small, pale face. A plea that came from someone more helpless than he. Leaving the knife in the dirt, Padric turned his back on the pair and went back into the dark of the woods.

Fire-blind, Padric cursed aloud as he clumsily stumbled through the undergrowth. He was free of the wretched woodsman and his waif, alive and on his way, but leaving the knife behind was a cruel twist. Returning to Fafnir without the weapon was unthinkable, but Padric could think of no clever way to retrieve it that did not involve violence between himself and the woodsman. Violence from which Padric was unlikely to emerge the victor. He cursed again, furious at himself for allowing things to turn so wrong. Rosheen would tell him to forget the knife, she did not understand the importance of such things, but Padric had no choice, he must get it back.

His foot came down and there was no ground to meet it. He stumbled hard in the dark, grabbing blindly at the trees to steady himself, but he could not stop his slide down the unseen embankment. There was a splash as his misstep landed at last, hip deep in the icy embrace of a leaf covered pool. The darkness of the forest and his own black thoughts had gotten him off track. Padric almost let out a scream at the ill-luck of it all.

Raven-touched.

He slogged his way a short distance to the edge of the pool and found two thin trees growing only a few feet apart. Grasping the trunks, he prepared to haul himself out of the water when a pale face emerged from the darkness between the trees. Startled, Padric slipped back into the water.

Maeve put a small, pallid finger to her lips and cast a look back over her shoulder, her white hair slinging wispily around. She turned back again, just as quickly and fixed Padric with her voluminous eyes.

“Do you go to your sister now?” Her voice pierced the dark in a whisper.

Padric gaped. He was cold in the water and despite the girl-child in front of him, felt very alone in the forest.

“Take me,” Maeve hissed, not waiting for his response.

“Maeve?” Padric managed. “Your father…” He began shivering.