Awakenings

                Finding J.T. and Phelan huddled together near the forge wasn’t in and of itself that unusual, especially in the past few weeks.  Phelan’s recovery had been slow and both Jay and Jacqueline had been keeping a close eye on the situation.  But when Phelan spotted me coming, they both looked relieved—and that was a little unusual.
                “Okay,” I said, my boots squishing in the mud left behind by a recent rain, “what gives?”
                “It’s Samhain,” Phelan said without preamble.
                Okay.  Thank you for telling me that.  I wonder why Kel didn’t mention anything—unless she lost track of the days.  I stared at him.  “Okay.”
                “Told you that she’d forgotten,” J.T. muttered, crossing his arms across his broad chest.  In the past few weeks, he’d begun eschewing his spiked jacket more and more in favor of a plainer jacket, suede that perhaps had once been dark brown but had somehow, at some point, begun to darken to black.  He wore it today, protection against the bite in the air.
                “What, exactly, did I forget?” I asked, peering at him.
                The last couple weeks had been busy.  The walls were up; the radiant heating system seemed to be working properly, but the true test for that would be during the depths of winter, when the winds howled off the lake and rattled walls and windows.
                Reinforcing walls and windows was still a work in progress.
                On top of that, there’d been inventorying our supplies and scrambling to make sure we had enough, had put enough away, would have enough for the long haul.  Tala and I were starting to get sick of seeing each other after that process.  In the evenings, I’d recruited the help of anyone I could lay my hands on to help catalogue the books we’d rescued from the library—and were still rescuing with each passing day.
                All in all, there had been plenty of reason for me to forget whatever the hell it was that they were talking about.
                “Think hard,” Phelan said.
                I could have punched him.  I glanced at J.T., who looked vaguely concerned and miserable all at once.
                Has he been seeing more ghosts lately?
                Ah, shit.  That’s what it is.  I smacked my forehead.  “The ritual by the barrow you were talking about the day Thom and I got married.”
                J.T. grunted, but nodded.  “It just feels like something we should do,” he muttered, shifting from one foot to the other.  He glanced around, as if he was concerned that someone would overhear our conversation.  Thom and Matt were the only ones within earshot, but they were busy arguing about something further up the hill.  “Not sure why, just do.”  He looked at Phelan.  “Tell her what you told me.”
                I turned to Phelan, crossing my arms.  He flinched slightly.
                “Don’t do that,” he said.  “You look too damn much like her when you give me that look.”
                “Brighid?”
                “Mmph.”  Phelan slipped past me and started down the hill. “Come on, let’s go sit down before I tell this one again.”
                “Tell which one again?”  I asked as J.T. and I fell into step with each other, following him down the hill toward one of the benches we’d rescued from the wreckage of Mackinac.
                “He told me about something that they used to do back in the old days,” J.T. said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.  “Some ritual they did during the harvest.”
                “It was on Samhain,” Phelan said, glancing back over his shoulder at the two of us.  “The gist of it is that my sister and Teague’s sister used to lead the maidens in the dancing and all to celebrate the lives of the dead and Teague and Seamus and I would do the rituals to send them to their rest, if that’s what they wanted.”
                I snorted softly.  “If you need maidens to dance, you’re going to be pretty damn short on them.  I think you’ll have Angie and Jacqueline.”
                “I’m not sure that they necessarily have to be maidens,” Phelan said, sounding almost thoughtful.  “I daresay more than half the so-called maidens that used to dance in the old days weren’t actually maids at all.”  He waved a dismissive hand as we reached the bench and he seated himself, leaning his staff against his knee.  “But that’s beside the point.  Not that important.”
                I sat down next to him, drawing one knee up to my chest, ignoring the mud on my boots.  “Then what is?”
                “The words—the ritual, that is.”  Phelan leaned back, staring at the clouds that drifted lazily in the bright blue sky.  If you only looked at the sky, it might have been possible to forget everything that had happened since August.
                One of his shoulders hitched in a slight shrug.  “It invites the dead to go to their rest, tells them that the road is clear and they can go.  They don’t have to, of course—it’s not some kind of crazy mass exorcism for ghosts or something.  It’s just an invitation to depart if they want.”
                I glanced up at J.T., then looked at Phelan.  “So not all of them would go?”
                “Nope.  Only the ones that want to.”  Phelan squinted at J.T.’s slight scowl and sighed, shaking his head.  “I told you it wasn’t a solution to your problem—not completely.  If some of them want to stay and watch over us, why the hell do you want to gainsay them that?”
                “I don’t see why any of them would want to stay,” J.T. grumbled.
                I shook my head.  “I don’t see why you’re worried that a lot won’t.  They’ve saved our bacon twice, Jay.”
                “Exactly,” he said.  “They’ve done their duty.”
                I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose.  Phelan cleared his throat, drawing our attention.
                “There is one other thing that I should probably tell you before you jump all over this idea.”  He twisted slightly, looking at both of us at once.  There was a strange expression on his face, fear mingling with dread.
                “What is it?”  I asked, tilting my head slightly.
                He took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly.  “Well…she could decide to show up.”
                “She?”  J.T. and I asked in the same voice.
                Not Vammatar.  Who else…oh.  Oh.
                I must have gone pale, because Phelan nodded.
                “Exactly.  Her.”

                She slept for a time.  When she woke again, the sun was half-gone in the west, twilight moving in.  Her skin prickled with ambient power.
                Neve sucked in a deep breath, slowly trying to prop herself up on her elbows.  Her body sill felt like a herd of horses had trampled her, but the pain was a touch duller now.  He must have gotten her to swallow some kind of pill when she’d been awake before.
                “Cameron?” What’s going on out there?  Why am I—
                Her brows knit, something stirring in the back of her mind, just beyond the reach of her thoughts.  There was a reason for this—a reason for the power in the air—and it had nothing to do with the two of them.
                Or did it?
                Her heart began to beat a little faster when he didn’t answer right away.  She fought her way into a sitting position, hissing and hunching as pain shot through her ribs and spine.  Her voice became a croak.  “Cam?”
                “Huh?”  He appeared a moment later, eyes widening at the sight of her sitting up.  “Shit,” he muttered, drying his hands on the seat of his pants as he hurried to her side.  “Neve, what’re you doing?”
                “Where were you?”  She gulped down air as if she was drowning, but she hadn’t felt anything pop and she didn’t feel especially short of breath.  I didn’t just accidentally puncture my lung, did I?  Her fingers closed around his arm, tightening painfully for a moment before she forced herself to relax.
                “Fishing.  There’s a jetty about twenty-five yards down and the water gets pretty deep down at the end.  I caught a few fish that look likely for dinner.”  He knelt down, sliding one arm behind her shoulders and pulling their packs and saddles over behind her with his free hand, stuffing her pillow between her back and the pile.  “Here, lean back.  What’s the matter?”
                “Nothing,” she lied.  “You didn’t answer, that’s all.”  She scrubbed her hand over her eyes and shivered a little, tugging one of the blankets up a little, wincing at the sight of livid bruises that hadn’t been there before.
                He frowned and nodded.  “You sure?”
                She nodded slightly, staring out the open tent flap and past the fire to the lake beyond.  A mist was rising.
                Her blood sang, fingers tingling.
                What is…
                “What day is it?”
                He stared at her strangely for a moment, his brows knitting.  “Why?” he asked, elongating the word.
                She straightened slightly even as he tried to get her to lay back.  “Because I’m starting to see something out on the water,” she whispered, hands fisting in her blankets again.
                Out in the mist, lights like will’o’wisps flickered in and out of sight as the sun set.  Neve’s breath caught in her throat.
                Is it?
                “Can’t you see them?” she breathed, pointing.  “Look, Cam.  Look out on the water, into the mists.”
                He shot her a look that told her that at least for the moment, he thought she was crazy.  Then he looked out at the water.  His body tensed next to her, his eyes widening slightly.  He half rose to his feet, groping for the scabbarded sword that lay in one corner of the tent.
                “It’s okay,” she murmured in his ear.  “They’re not here to hurt us.”
                His voice shook.  “W-what are they?”
                “Ghosts,” she murmured, her hand tightening around his.
                “Ghosts?”
                “Ghosts.  Souls.  Call them whatever you want.”  She smiled sadly.  “I think it’s Samhain, Cam.  The only time the veil is as thin as it is now is on Midwinter’s Eve.”  Neve rested her head against his chest, wincing slightly as she moved her leg, rewarded with a stab of pain shooting up from her knee through her thigh and into her hip.  “When I was a girl, we would feast on this night and then the maidens would dance for the souls of the dead, to show them the way to their rest.  Aoife and I would lead the dancers, and our brothers would speak the words to send the dead on their way.”
                Cameron shivered.  “Sounds morbid.”
                “It wasn’t,” she said softly.  “It was beautiful and heart-wrenching, but it wasn’t morbid.”  She rested her forehead against his chin.  “Someday, you’ll understand.”
                At least I hope you will.
                “Someday, huh?” he said softly.
                “Mmhm.  Someday.”

            He didn’t dare stop until it was almost dark, three creeks and a half-dry river between him and the site of their ambush.  All he thought about was putting miles between them and it—and that Neve kept on breathing.
            Cameron turned the horses off the main road as the sun sunk lower in the west and headed down a narrower gravel path.  He could smell water beyond the trees, hear the sound of waves.
            Lakeshore, maybe?
            Tucked against his chest, Neve gave a soft whimper.  He winced, squeezing her gently with the arm he had locked around her shoulders.
            “Just a little further,” he murmured.  “Just a little further.  Then we’ll stop.”
            The path wound on for at least two miles before it opened up into a tiny grass parking lot above a rocky beach.  Buoys on twists of rope bobbed lazily on the water, marking out what once had been a safe swimming area.
            There wasn’t a soul in sight, but there was wood enough, and the parking lot was as good as anywhere to set up camp, tucked into the lee of the trees and out of the wind.  The place smelled of water and seaweed, neither smell as sour as Cameron might have expected.
            Wonder where we are.  There weren’t any signposts to tell him.  Maybe he’d investigate in the morning.  Maybe they’d stay a few days so he could find out.
            He set his jaw.  Assuming that thing doesn’t find us—or anything else.
            Lowering Neve from his saddle without dropping her or falling himself was a challenge, but he managed it by the skin of his teeth.  He laid her on one of their bedrolls and covered her with two blankets before he tethered the horses and began to set camp for the night.
            Fire first, he thought as he picketed their mounts.  Tent can wait until after I’ve set her leg.
                He winced.  Hope I’m up to that task.
                They’d just have to find out.

•          •          •

                “Ohhh…”  Neve’s hands fisted in the blankets spread over her as she came awake, teeth catching her lower lip to silence her pained moan.  If there was a part of her that didn’t hurt, she wasn’t quite certain what it was.
                My hands, maybe, but if I keep holding the blanket like this, that’s not going to last for long.
                “Neve?”
                She sucked in two shaky breaths before she trusted herself to speak instead of scream.  The taste of blood slicked her tongue.  Did I just draw blood, or is it from something…?  She swallowed hard.  “Cam?”
                Gods and monsters, I sound like a strangled cat.
                His body eclipsed the dying light that flooded into the tent through its open flap, his tread making the tent floor rustle and crunch with each step.  They winced in unison—possibly for the same reason.  “I wasn’t sure when you’d wake up,” he said as he knelt next to her.
                The look on his face said that he wasn’t sure if she’d wake up.
                “What happened?” she asked.  She could remember things in bits and pieces, as if her memory was a vase that had fallen and shattered—and a few of the pieces had disappeared.  “I remember trying to catch up with you, then the tree and my horse balking at the last second…and then not really anything.”
                “Something ambushed us,” he said quietly, smoothing her hair.  She winced slightly as his fingers brushed against a knot she hadn’t noticed until he touched it.  “I don’t know what it was.”
                Ambushed?  She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, head starting to pound and thoughts starting to scatter.  “Who could have–?”
                “I don’t know,” he said.  “But whatever it was…it was big and ugly and really hated you.”
                Hated me?  Her lips formed the words, though she didn’t utter them.  Cameron’s brow creased.
                “I didn’t realize any of them would be that…articulate.”
                “Any of what?” she managed to whisper, trying to gather her thoughts again.  Bloody hell.
                “Your…enemies, I guess.  The monsters like those—what’d you guys call them?  Dirae?”
                “Furies,” she murmured.  “Yeah.  Why?  What was…?”  Her voice trailed away, her head swimming.  Enemies?  Which…who…?
                “Big, greenish.  Kind of like the Hulk but a lot uglier and more articulate.”
                It was like he was talking another language.  Neve started to shake her head.  White hot pain stabbed her eyes and she groaned, going still.  “Déithe agus arrachtaigh.”
                “What?”
                She swallowed.  “Nothing.  Water?”
                “Yeah, hang on.”
                Neve listened to him get up, fingers tightening in her blankets.  Some of the pain was starting to ebb slightly, or was it just fading into the background in the face of fresher, sharper pain?
                Focus, Neve.  What the hell is he talking about?
                “Here,” Cameron said quietly, sliding a hand under her head.  She flinched a little as he raised her up.
                “Ooof.”  The sound was half an exhaled breath, half a moan.
                “Sorry,” he mumbled.  “Am I hurting you?”
                “I’m more thirsty,” she told him, opening her eyes and blinking back tears.  “I’ll live.”  One shaky hand covered his as he lifted a water bottle to her lips and helped her drink.  She leaned into his cradling arm, looking up at him.
                Worry was etched in every line of his face, his brows knit, jaw set, dark hollows already forming beneath his eyes.
                She pushed the water bottle away.  Her throat hurt less now, and her mouth didn’t taste like blood anymore.  “How bad is it, Cam?”
                “Your horse threw you into a tree.” His voice broke.  “I didn’t think you were alive at first.  I prayed, I hoped.  I shot the thing and it ran away, but I don’t know if it’ll find us again.  Rode all day to get as far away from it as we could.”
                “How far?”
                “Three creeks and a river and I don’t know how many miles.”  Cameron leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.  “I just hope we’re safe.  I don’t—I can’t—”  He broke off, exhaling through his teeth.  “I’m afraid, Neve.  I’m afraid of how bad you might be hurt, I’m afraid that it’ll catch up with us, I’m afraid I didn’t set your leg right, I’m just…I’m fucking terrified.”
                “Everything will be fine,” she whispered.  A ball of ice settled in her belly.  Would it, or was she lying to them both?  She groped for his hand, caught it, squeezed.
                “Everything will be fine.”

            Two miles later, they rode into the ambush.
            The silence that had reigned over the world, silence that came with the silent shift toward winter, meant that they had little warning.  Thy hadn’t heard any birdsong in days, nor any other sound other than the occasional rustle of the wind through the trees, the hoof beats of their horses, and the sound of their own voices, their own breathing.
            “Cameron!  Hold up a second.”  Neve’s horse raced along at a gallop as his plodded on at a trot.  She’d stopped to investigate a bush a half mile back and told him to ride on ahead.
            Cameron laughed as he reined up, twisting in his saddle to look back at her.  “Misjudged how fast I was going, huh?”
            Their only warning was a bird’s call.
            Then the tree came down.
            Cameron’s horse reared, shrieking in startled fright.  He cursed, suddenly on an organic roller coaster that he wasn’t strapped into at all securely.  His fingers convulsively tightened around the reins in his hands and his knees gripped his mount’s flanks as he tried to ride out the creature’s panic.
            Neve’s horse barreled straight on toward the fallen tree.
            Cameron caught the barest glimpse of Neve’s determined expression as she flashed past, only feet from the tree.
            They’re going to jump it, he realized, about to shout at her.
            Her mount shied at the last second.
            Cameron’s eyes widened in horror as he watched Neve fly from the saddle.  She somersaulted through the air, sailing into a pile of brush at the base of another tree.
            She hit with a sickening crunch that slammed Cameron’s heart into his throat.
            No.
            A rumbling voice sing-songed from the shadows of the woods to his right.           

Pretty pretty Neve, apple of her brothers’ eye, got lost so far from home
Tried to jump a fallen tree while she was out alone.
Princess of the princes, pretty little Neve
Never learned the lesson of when to just go on and leave!
Now pretty pretty little Neve, apple of her brothers’ eye
Can do little more than shut up and wait to die.

            Cameron’s blood boiled.  He jerked harshly on his mount’s reins as he groped for the sword that should have been within easy reach.  His hand fell on the shotgun instead.  He risked a glance toward the brush where Neve had landed and saw no sign of movement.
            She’s not dead.  She can’t be dead.
            Breath burned in his lungs.  He summoned the last ounces of his courage and control.
            “Come out and face me like a man!” he shouted at the hidden voice.  His heart hammered against his ribs.
            At least if I die, I’ll do it defending her.  It wouldn’t have pleased her or her brother, but he didn’t quite care.
            Laughter that sounded like a rockslide answered him and a figure about as ugly as the same lumbered out of the shadows.  It—he—was easily eight feet tall, carrying a club as thick around as Cameron’s thigh.  A mop of gray-green dreadlocks clung to the creature’s scalp, its flesh the color of lichens.  Its eyes glinted gold even in the dim of the cloudy morning.  Its squashed, ugly face was dominated by a nose the size of his fist and a mouth that was almost just a gash in its flesh—except for the two tusks peeking out from beneath its lower lip.
            “Oh-ho, little princeling.  Our quarrel is not with you but with yours.  Leave now and you might be spared a painful death!”
            Please let guns work on this thing.  Cameron cast another desperate glance toward the brush before refocusing on the monster and chambering a round.  “How about no?”
            I pull the trigger and this horse is going to throw me, too.  I’ve only got one shot at this.
            The monster roared a laugh, apparently amused.  “Do you think your iron tube will hurt me, youngling of old blood?  Your toothpick arms can not strike me hard enough!”  It twitched a massive hand irritatedly.  “Begone and leave me to my vengeance, sweet so sweet!  The Wanderer she is not, but wronged us all the same has she.”
            “Fuck no,” Cameron said, enunciating each word as precisely as he could, forcing his voice not to shake.  One shot.  Make it count.
            He aimed for the chin and pulled the trigger.
            His horse bucked under him and he lost his grip on the weapon, tossed unceremoniously from his saddle and onto the road, the shotgun bouncing once before it landed a few feet away.
            From the scream he heard, the shot had been worth it.
            The blast caught the creature in the neck and face, and the scream was a wet, almost gurgling sound.  It dropped its club and stumbled back toward the woods from where it’d come, crashing and splintering sounds marking its passage.
            Scrambling to his feet, Cameron grabbed his startled mount’s reins, jerked hard, then flung himself at the tree that blocked the road.
            Still no movement from the brush.
            No, no, no, no, no!  Don’t do this to me, Neve.  Don’t do this to me.
            Cameron cursed again.  He grabbed both horses and dragged the skittish creatures around the fallen tree, then darted toward the brush.
            Please be alive.  Please.
            A giant hand wrapped around his heart and squeezed painfully at the thought of Neve being dead.
            He crashed through the brush, ignoring the thorns and brambles that grabbed at his pants, at his bare hands.  I have to get to her.  We have to get out of here as fast as we can.  Once that thing comes back, it’s going to be fucking angrier than a bee-stung wolverine being chased by a gaggle of angry badgers.
            She lay in a crumpled heap against a tree trunk, face deeply scraped by the bramble bushes she’d landed in.  A little blood trickled from her nose and the corner of her mouth.  One leg was canted at a somewhat strange angle.
            All he could think was, Please, still be breathing.  Please.
            He saw her chest rise and fall in a shallow, shuddering breath.
            Thank you god.
            He didn’t think as he scooped her up.  She gave a startled, pained gasp, eyelids fluttering for a moment.
            “It’s all right,” he murmured as he carried her clear of the brush.  “I’ve got you, Neve, but we’ve got to move.  No time.”
            She’s not going to be able to sit in a saddle.  Cameron swallowed bile.  This isn’t going to be an easy ride for either one of us.  Got to put miles between us and that thing, though—and ride through a river or three besides if we can, in case it can track us by scent.
            He loaded Neve onto his horse, sprawled on her stomach with arms and legs dangling.  Only for a minute, he promised her silently as he untied the pair of mounts. 
            Then he swung up into his saddle and looped both sets of reins around his hand.  He gathered Neve tenderly against his chest and rode on into the west.

            Neve hauled back on her reins so abruptly that Cameron didn’t realize she’d done it until he was a dozen feet beyond her.  He yanked his mount into a turn, brows knitting as he looked back at her.  “What’s wrong?”
            She held a finger to her lips, eyes on the trees lining the roadway.  Cameron’s stomach dropped like a rock.  Really?  Again?
            His horse didn’t seem to think anything was wrong as it pranced back to hers, nipped at its ear.  Cameron growled, jerking on the reins.  His mount danced sideways a few steps before settling down.
            Cameron reached for Neve’s arm.  His fingers brushed her arm and she startled, looking at him.
            “I thought I heard something,” she whispered.  She shrugged.  “I guess I was wrong.”
            “That’s been happening a lot lately.”  His hand closed around her wrist.  She seemed thinner after the past few week son the road.  Maybe she was.  She didn’t seem to sleep enough, either, even when they were staying in a settlement.
            He’d fall asleep at night with her pressed against him, her back to his front, his arms around her and her arms around his.  She’d always be awake when he stirred at dawn.  Sometimes she’d still be awake when he fell asleep at night.
            Her eyes met his.  “Don’t worry about me, Cam,” she whispered, lifting a hand to stroke his cheek.  “We’ve got more than enough to worry about.”
            A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.  “Like winter?”
            “Yeah, like that.”  She leaned toward him, the gap between them so vast that he thought for a moment that she’d topple from the saddle.  Her lips brushed his cheek before she straightened again.  “We’ve got a lot of miles to cover before it starts to get bad.”
            They’d awakened that morning to find a thin layer of snow covering the outside of their tent.  The road was slick with the slowly melting snow, though their mounts seemed to take it well enough in stride.  The air had the familiar bite of winter, though by Cameron’s estimation it wasn’t even November yet.  Every settlement they’d stopped at—all four of them—had tried to get them to stay, as if they all knew that winter was coming and it was going to be bad.
            Of course, I don’t think you need to be a meteorologist or a climatologist to know that this winter’s going to be worse than most.  Cameron squinted at the sky.  The sun was struggling to break through a mass of clouds, a dim glow beyond gray-white cotton.  “Looks like the weather might hold long enough for us to get another few miles before lunch, at least.”
            “We can get further if we eat and ride at the same time,” Neve said, starting to get her mount moving again.  Cameron looped around her, ending up the opposite side of Neve and her horse from where he’d started, nearer to the edge of the road.
            “That’s true,” he said.
            “How’s your arm?” she asked as his mount drew abreast with hers.
            “Still sore, but it’s better.”  He still couldn’t understand why he’d been in such bad shape after that fight weeks before, when she’d come to his rescue on a Canadian roadway, even with all the explanations she’d offered, that her brother and Kira had offered.  The wound itself was mostly healed, but the scar was nastier than it had any right to be and still ached dully from time to time.
            She smirked.  “Ready to actually learn how to use that sword I gave you, then?”
            He blinked at her, tearing his eyes away from the road to stare at her.  The smile she gave him was impish as she reached across the gap to squeeze his knee.
            “I gave it to you for a reason, Cam.  I was carrying it for a reason and I guess that reason was so it would find its way to you.”
            Every time I think that maybe I’m not completely insane, and that maybe she’s not insane either, she goes and says something like that.  He forced a lopsided smile at her.  “What makes you so sure that I’m supposed to have it?”
            Other than the fact that once it was in my hand, I felt like it had always been there.
            Neve shrugged.  “Instinct?”
            “Instinct,” Cameron echoed, shaking his head.
            “So are you ready to learn how to use it or not?”
            “Why the rush?”  His stomach flipped.  Is something following us again?  The last time it didn’t stop until we got to that settlement with all the burning sage.  His eyes still watered at the memory.  There had been a lot of smoldering plant life at that house, but the girl who lived there—a cheerful, slender waif of a girl named Jamie—had been kind to them.  There was a letter in one of Cameron’s saddlebags from her to someone in Michigan.
            “Not that I expect you to go hunting for her, but since you’re going there, it just seemed like a good idea to write.”
            He couldn’t say no to that, or tell her that it was a bad idea.  She hadn’t been the only one to ask them to carry letters—Kira had only been the first.  One of his saddlebags was full of mail, some that could never be delivered.
            It was the least they could do to repay the hospitality that they’d been shown.
            Neve shook her head.  “Don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answers to, mo laoch.  The fact of the matter is that we’re going to run out of bullets sooner rather than later and building you a bow like this one is impossible on the road—though I imagine by the time we get back to Teague, he might have gotten one started for you.”
            “That’s not going to be for a long time,” Cameron murmured, voice barely audible over the sound of their horses’ hooves.
            “I know,” she said.  “Hence the sword.  So are you ready or not?”
            He sighed.  “I guess so.”
            “Good.  We’ll start tonight.”
            Somewhere above them, a hawk cried.  Shivers shot down Cameron’s spine.
            It didn’t sound like any hawk he’d ever heard before.
            Drawing closer together, they continued down the road.