The Hunting Trip
Chapter 27: A Bad Situation Gone Worse  

Bregus barely noticed the limp form of the man leaning against the tree. At a glance he was sedate, head drooped forward and obscuring his face with hair curtained over his features. At least Anborn is still here. He was the one thing about which she felt secure, having seen her two sons pursue and return him. For the moment, she was far too pre-occupied with reclaiming the Elf to pay much attention to this one. She had little need to pay Anborn heed for that matter. The man was hardly significant in the grand scheme at the moment, though the prodding of Bäla was cloying at her conscience. Still, first things first. The Elf must be found and returned.

She was in a hurry, not anticipating the need to linger long. She had left Curtik at the edge of the camp with the promise to return in a few minutes with a new instrument for the hunt and the request that he aid her. She quickly stepped into her wagon while she pondered the solitude in the camp. Most everyone was gone now, searching for the Elf in all directions of the compass. However, that creature was elusive. Without success she had tried to hinder him with use of her talisman, but the object no longer held much power. The charm had been seriously burned, though she had no recollection of how this might have transpired. She cursed when she had realized, for it was the one true means she had of controlling the Elf's movement. Whatever else she might try failed her.

Not even the Vision-Seeking drug would aid her in holding him. She had seen it splatter on the Elf's face when she had winged the bowl, and though her aim was off (she had meant for it to make contact with his head, not the tree) she could not deny she was pleased with the outcome. A droplet has hit him. He will grow confused, and perhaps that might help me in finding him. It was small benefit, though, for the drug was pointless in directing him if she could not make physical contact, and so far, the Elf was doing a masterful job of avoiding just that. He may be confused, but he still unravels my means of finding him.

The small event with the drug was the only good thing that had come in this hour. Much beyond that, she felt rage. Rage that someone had freed the Elf. Rage that her hostages had fled. But mostly, rage at the way she had been treated by her kind. To question her? It was inconceivable! But it showed exactly how little she had understood the menace of Kattica or the powers the girl was learning to wield. The old woman scowled. She should have anticipated exactly this kind of betrayal. There was a reason she had not enlisted the girl's help earlier, and her ire spiked that she had not relied upon her own intuition as she had wanted. Aggravated at her foolishness in believing she could trust, her mind searched for others to blame. She was not solely alone in this debacle. She had allowed Bäla to offer guidance and this is how she had fared. Not well. He deserved her disdain for the precarious location to which he had driven her, and for that she was ignoring the prying thoughts he was singing in her ears. Fortunately, Bregus had annihilated the threat of her people's questioning. It was still a frightening position to be held, as some of the tribe had managed to pull out of her spell. And there was traitor among them. Pity the soul when she found him. But so long as she held Mattias' trust, all should be well. He held sway over the rest and her orders would stand.

Timing was critical to her planning. By sunset these ingredients had best be in place the Elf, an unborn child, and the Protected Place. Too soon it was coming together and too soon it was falling apart. Her brazen disregard for their haste just days past was now gone. The Elf had escaped, and the timing with which he had done so could ruin all her dreams. She had to regain him. She had to. If not

Though her mind had slipped past him in her earlier observance, Bregus had not been prepared for Bäla's sudden appearance now. She had noticed of late that he had an uncanny ability to surprise her, materializing when she had least expected him, and this disconcerting fact troubled her. Here he was again, stepping forward from the shadows. She repressed her stunned expression. She had not seen him looming so near.

As if reading her internal dialog, he ignored her trepidation for his arrival and said in regard to the time, "Even if you do not find the Elf, you could still bring me back."

She knew he was going to offer this, but this suggestion did not sit well with her. What he said was true enough. The moon's place in the sky was as important in the plans to revitalize Bäla as was the sun's place in hers. She had already ordered the camp to make ready their departure. They could take control of the cave, exercise the spirit of Anborn from the body and replace it with Bäla's on this very eve. And then they could see to her transformation on the next night. Then, then they would rejuvenate her body along with her soul and make her immortal to this world. But an ache gnawed at her in this proposal. She did not trust Bäla to allow her part to come to fruition.

"Perhaps another Elf might be found if this one cannot be? Supposedly these lands are teaming in such thing. I could help," he offered. Still she did not answer.

Beyond another day, she would have no more opportunity. It was today or tomorrow. That was it. Time was waning, and soon the moon would be too. Tonight the white orb would be at its peak. Tomorrow it would seek cycle to decline and recede into its place as a sliver in the sky. These two days were the fulfillment of the celestial body at its greatest point. The stars were aligned. Today or tomorrow. And today was the day when the spirits of these bodies came to wax fully. Once past these high days, there would not be another opportunity. Such an alignment of the astral forms came only once every hundred years, or longer.

She had not intended to remain in this camp as long as she had. That had been the mistake. But her own need . . . to rest . . . had offset her plan to set forth to the Protected Place. Timing was now becoming critical.

"You should have acted with more authority, as I had suggested," he calmly interjected. It was not an accusation, more a statement of fact, and she sighed her agreement. Why she had feared their downfall so greatly, she did not know. It hung with her still, though she could not let it hamper her any longer. Her apprehensions had slowed their movements. She should have been more forceful. She should have taken command.

"I could probe the man's mind now and learn all I need from him. He has been drugged. His mind will be open for my reach," she said, thinking aloud.

"More delays. And if you find your fears are true, will you wait longer still to take the Protected Place? The hours in the day grow fewer," he said with controlled temper.

"I will give time to finding the Elf. I must," she answered.

"Still weak," he muttered, but she did not counter him. She did not wish to argue when so much else held greater import.

"The sun sets soon enough. You will miss the chance you were offered this day. Act while you can, Bregus," he pleaded. How out of character for him to beg me, she responded in thought.

"What will you do if you do not regain the Elf?" he asked, sounding less certain of his place for the moment.

She did not answer in words, only in her mind. I will accept my fate. The answer was an admission to her own thoughts, not his, though she was hardly ready to concede her failure.

He read her and she knew it. She could see from the corner of her eye that he silently raged at this, but strangely, he said nothing to convince her otherwise. Her mistrust deepened because of this. He no longer acted as she suspected he would, and this added to her troubled mind. He is gaining his soul, she thought. Perhaps as the moon comes to cycle, he too is growing in power. He needs only a body to make him whole again, and then my control over him will falter. I have not heard the last from him on this topic, I think.

Yet she needed to act. Lingering longer would not find the Elf. That creature had evaded the dogs somehow, speaking to their minds in a way she could not. They followed the Elf's commands, she perceived, and ran about the forest in a wild fury but without leading in a real direction. Another betrayal, she thought. At least there are still some loyal to me. And once I am transformed, none shall ever counter me again. She called out a soft voice, and the eyes of the owl shot open. She came to stand by the creatures perch.

"Come Rartichirilo," she crooned. "I need you now, dear friend. I need your keen eyes." At her side, Bäla chuckled his amusement.

"You give too much merit to this bird," he scoffed.

Bregus stroked the owl's wings as she encouraged the animal, "You are wise, Rartichirilo, and you can go where we cannot. The Elf climbs through the branches of the trees and eludes our sight. Find him. Hunt him. He is weakened and will not see you. Aid me."

The bird hopped onto her arm, taking the perch offered. Bregus smiled, whispering soft words to the animal. Drawing the curtain, she stepped into the light. Both she and the bird shut their eyes to the momentary blindness as they readjusted to the harsh reality of daylight.

He followed her out of the wagon, his eyes also taking in the harshness of the sun's glare, even though it was filtered through the shade of the leaves. His eyes swept up to the sky and he clucked his misgivings. "Too much time, Bregus. You waste too much time on this pursuit."

Bregus had had enough of Bäla's incessant prodding and her temper flared. "Be still! You have not control over me, and I will not be swayed! Your time comes soon enough, but not before I say! Be gone with you! I will hear no more of your words." Angrily she swung her unused arm. Her body rocked with the movement and the bird adjusted itself, feathers ruffling and settling as it balanced again on her arm.

Her fierce expression slipped away. He was gone, folding back into the shadows, she supposed. She knew he was not completely revoked from her thoughts, nor did she really want him to be. She merely needed the silence to make her own voice heard in her head. Soon enough his whispers in her mind would disappear. Soon enough he would roam on his own. Soon enough he would be freed from the Netherworlds, and then he would not stir in her mind as he did now. He would be his own individual, free to move about and act, just as she was free to move and act. But she was not fully ready to free him yet. The control she held over him now was all she had left to keep him, and she would not relinquish it if it were not necessary. She had served under Bäla before. She knew him not to be completely trustworthy. She preferred to wait to dole out his reward.

If she gave in, and gave him what as he asked, his power would be great. By restoring him before herself when the moon was at its fullest, when its strength and his were at their ripest, she would be giving him higher ranking between them in terms of power. And to give him this when she could take none for her own benefit was giving him back his original sway over her. She had no intentions of doing that.

Too many years as the submissive one she had spent. Too many years as the second to his order she had given. Too many years believing her say was equal, only to find in the end her powers were not. Too many. Too long. Her memory could not wipe away the tally. He would not have it. Not this time. She would not give him dominance over her again. She would will him his life back only when she had taken her place first. This time she would be the superior power. It was the ultimate revenge for all the years of brutality she had allowed him, though she refused to acknowledge her own role in those evil acts.

That was not to say she did not appreciate Bäla. She did, and she loved him too. If anything, she had learned to love him more in his absence. The value of holding onto what was dear while one could was a lesson hard learned, but taught and accepted all the same. She would have him back and she could not be happier for that fact. Never again could she take for granted their time together. But also she would never allow herself to be made into a non-entity before him. Woman or not, she would be his superior. That would hold, or nothing would come at all.

She had not been heeding his blighted words when she had offered to be satisfied with what may come. I will accept my fate, she had thought, and she would. A part of her knew this was the right thing to do. Accept what came, and not pry for what was not hers. Then again, this was white magic's influence, and she had to acknowledge she had been granted this thinking when she had delved into Kattica's mind. An echo effect perhaps, but it felt inviting. There was some assurance to holding this philosophy. It made her less responsible for the outcome. That pleased her. There was peace in that. And yet, her heart remained black, and the corruption from black magic could not so easily be withdrawn from one who had practiced it so long as she had. True, there was comfort in adopting a less desirous attitude and she could live with this new way of thinking. However, it did not mean she had intentions of giving up her old ones.

She looked about the camp, and her eyes again fell to the man. Anborn. What if she took out from the time she needed to hunt the Elf and used it to assure herself their journey into the Protected Place was safe? What if she were to now bend this man to her will, forcing the information from him she had earlier sought? Would it offer any help in making her plan go forward? No, likely it would not. To the contrary, if anything it would give her more reason to hold fear. No, much wiser was the course Bäla had offered, though she was remiss to admit such a thing, even to herself. Accept her fate. Act without knowing the outcome before movement. That was what she would do.

Another round of encouragement she offered the bird,. Then she gave the owl room to open its wings. It flew. Fly. Fly. It was away, off, seeking out the means to make her life eternal and to bring to her happiness at last, happiness that she had so long sought in her life, happiness so near and yet left to the fates as to what would happen next.

****

Tossing and tumbling, roiling and swaying, each step was a precarious foothold toward a measure of inconsistent imagery. An odd taste filled his mouth and light was skewing in angles that did not match its source. Sound took on an unusual array of musicality and his heart throbbed a quick tempo to it, making the coercive song in his head into a symphony of strange mystery. He could make no sense of it, but he did not try. His mind had given up on attempting to gain order from this chaos, and all he could think, all he could sense, was that he must get away. He must flee, for his life was at stake.

A vortex of disturbing and strangely enchanting messages filled his mind. He was frightened by the hallucinations that unfolded before him, but mesmerized all the same by the serene beauty of them. Yet when he paused to ponder them, he felt the ground gained in this race slipping away. He could sense this, and the panic that seized his heart was the one thing he could recall from the reality that lay beyond his eyes.

With each step it was becoming more difficult for Legolas to focus his attention. He found himself almost drowsing into a trance of some sort, and each time that occurred his progress would stop. With fired observance he had managed to roust himself enough not to fall, but even that was precarious as his balance was haphazard. He had nearly slipped from a branch twice. Or had it been three times? Legolas was not really sure, only vaguely aware that he was making an attempt to flee.

From what he was running he could not fully recall. Images flashed through his mind. Mortal witchcraft, his friends, the face of the old woman, a knife in his hand, the girl. They melted together and somewhere in that he knew his answer lay, but where and how, he could not quite make out. And time . . . time had no measure for him. As an Elf, it never really did, but he could always make sense of the pattern of the sun and the looming of that orb in the sky, and he knew the distance between the rise and set held a modicum of benchmark for all things in nature and their passing. Yet the events in his mind would not fit in that sphere. If they happened today or a man's lifespan ago he could not tell, so confusing was the whirl in his mind. Still he told himself for the sake of consistency he was running for a reason, and he pushed himself to keep that above all else.

Pushing himself for reason and pushing himself for the sake of movement, however, were two different things. So much easier it would be to sink down, to stop, to let his mind slide over everything riding before it, and to not fight. What harm was there in letting this pass, for as much as the confusion of the moment weighed on him, Legolas knew this was not a normal state for himself. If he could only last it out, he might prevail in whatever this fight was he undertook.

South, a part of his mind told him. You must direct your attention south. And with this he recalled his attempt to redirect the dogs. He had leapt into the trees as soon as he had departed, though not without whistling and calling the attention of the canine beasts. He felt an affinity for them even then, but now his perception was magnified far greater. He could hear their charged steps and their raspy barks, but they did not frighten him. It was an effect, he was sure, of what transfixed him. He was certain he could communicate with the dogs. Not just in word, but in gesture, in understanding, as if he too were one of them. It was a heady feeling to speak and comprehend the animals so, but he knew there was not time to linger on it. He had been able to grasp their attention once he had led them away far enough from the camp, and like a game he sent them merrily off to hunt an intruder further north while he turned direction and headed south.

South. What was there south that he needed? He had difficulty recalling this thought though he knew it had much to do with his survival. But to ponder long on anything sent his mind once again into a slowed mental state that halted his steps. He had to trust rather than assure. He had to believe whatever it was that he sought would be triggered once he caught a visual presentation of it.

The dogs had returned, playful and cunning, asking for more in this game that he roused. Legolas happily gave in, knowing somehow that it was critical he sent the dogs off again in a different direction, if only to confuse those in his pursuit. Thus he complied, singing words so quietly placed only the dogs might hear them, but sharp enough that they would follow with a loyalty he did not know he commanded. In their joy to obey, they gave chase through the woods to anywhere but where the Elf hid. The pleasure in this made Legolas wish to laugh.

But his steps dragged him back to his own worries. Which direction was he headed? South. It was a word that he knew, but it would not congeal in his thoughts. This confusion was frustrating and he shook his head at his unknowing. Why was this so hard?

He looked to the sky, knowing there would be his answer for the direction he sought. But then again, that effort took his focus away from the task, and he had to push his mind to not get caught in the beauty of twinkling foliage overhead. The sky was telling of his direction, but how? His focus was lost once again and he felt his steps stumble and slip.

Ai! But to hang on!

He stopped, allowing his heart to slow its pace a small amount while his hands grappled with resurrecting his position in the tree. The tree helped him rise, pushing his awkward feet onto the stronger boughs that Legolas no longer seemed capable of picking out. Thank you, my friend, he thought, and he heard the tree answer his call. Yet instead of moving on as he knew that he must, his mind danced into the song that he heard from his bough and branch companion. It had been there before, the song of the trees, but he had not given it much attention, such had been the barrage of overload to his other senses. However, in that moment of peaceful gratitude with the trees, he let the noise of their voices envelope him. They rode over and through him, and his eyes met with the sky as a symphony of light and sound took over his thoughts. He stood still and pondered their beauty and in his ignorance ceased his flight to freedom, letting all fade away as if in dreams.

****

From its place in the sky, the bird could see all, though all that it saw was not as its master might want. It soared between the trees, never turning its mind from its target. It had its task. It had been given a goal. Find the Elf it had previously sought.

The owl was a keen hunter. It knew to anticipate actions and where one might hide in the forests. The Elf could not be far away and the bird's mind reasoned all the places it might look. Though the actions of an Elf would be different than that of a Man, the bird understood how to adapt as would any fine-tuned tracker. With the long practiced craft of a seasoned killer, the owl made its pursuit a patient, methodical game. Cleverly, it knew to look to the trees as well as the ground. It circled a short radius from the camp not venturing far at first, the circles to grow with each rotation. It would cover a few miles, but not many, for unless the Elf had the speed of a stallion, he would not have gotten so far as the great river body that touched the horizon. The bird knew it need not look there so early. Not yet.

Something strange in the near deserted camp caught the bird's attention. A scream pierced the air. The owl recognized its master's voice, and it nearly returned to her for her aid. But it hadn't been called and so it stayed within reach, but remained aloft in the sky. Below, it saw a human, previously listless, now moving unfettered, though the man had given the impression earlier of being held to a tree. He was loose, shedding a garment. The man jerked at the noise. He turned, looking one direction, though appearing to want to move in the other. Confusion seemed to buffet him, but within an instant he looked to have decided. The man ran toward the scream. He ran to the bird's master and the creature was gladdened. Its master would know what to do with the strangeness of the man. Its master would find out why the fettered man was free. The bird moved on. Upward it flew into sky, then back down again to trees. It had its task. Find the Elf.

****

She crossed the wide camp to make her way back to Curtik. With the bird in flight now, she would again try to find the Elf she had lost. Bregus felt more at ease knowing this capable huntress was at work, and she knew that the owl would turn the attention of the dogs back to their task once it had found the object of the chase. She felt certain now they would find him. Her fear subsided slightly with her mental assurances.

The faces of a few women and small children near the row of bender tents caught her eye, and she slowed her pace to gaze upon them. They surrounded the place where Kattica lay, packing their gear as instructed and maintaining the camp until the host of the men returned from the hunt. She probed their minds quickly to give them a new task. Watch for Kattica and make sure she stayed put. Though it was likely not to happen, should the girl somehow manage to wake from the deep sleep the witch's work had rent upon her, Bregus would have her kept.

It came as surprise then when one of the women's minds observed having seen Kattica gone.

All other troubles slipped away momentarily from Bregus' mind and panic screamed out in her head at such news. No words passed, but the women in unison, backed away at the elders approach.

"What do you mean she is gone!" the old woman screamed, but she did not have time to discern which one of the women had shared this information with her. She rushed instead to the tents where Kattica was supposed to lay. One of the children cried out in fear at the grim terror Bregus' face evoked, scurrying to find her mother for consoling, but the witch paid little heed. She ripped open the curtain that served as a door to Kattica's hold, shedding light into the interior of the tent. There was nothing to behold. The girl was gone.

Bregus screamed as fear uprooted her calm. It was a hair-raising cry, telling of a most horrible fear confronted. It was a scream that called out for dire aid.

Quick feet raced to where she stood. Curtik came to her side, weapon raised and ready to take on her attacker. But seeing none, he tossed down his knife and raised his arms, offering sympathy while her voice rattled on her lament. From the other side of the camp, another approached. With a look of shaken fear, Mattias ran into the cluster of tents, eyes wide, footsteps wary, but no weapon was drawn. Curtik stepped closer, attempting to console and query as her cry slowed to pale sobs, but she pushed him away, racing instead to take Mattias into her embrace.

Her older son froze as she crushed him to her, but she leaned her head into his muscled chest all the same, finding comfort in holding him and hoping he might take her and hold her as well. But he did not. Instead he stood rigid, unmoved by her cries, but softening enough to ask, "What is it, Mother?

"Gone!" she wailed. "The girl . . ." It was all she could get out, and for a moment she believed he too might know her mind and the devastating effect this news had. He stepped back, unbalanced by the information, and he quivered an infinitesimal amount.

"Where ?" she sputtered. "Where is she?"

No one answered aloud, but the voice of the woman who had informed her spoke out in her head. She was with him, her voice said, and the implication was that of Mattias. Bregus did not need to look out for confirmation. The image in her head showed her the picture of Mattias carrying his wife away.

She reeled backwards, recoiling as if she had been struck. The image was there, vivid and clear. Shocked for the betrayal that was becoming apparent to her, she looked down to where his knife would be at his belt and realized it was gone from its sheath. The picture of the knife in the Elf's hands as he held it up before her face wove through her thoughts and made her stumble again. She found herself off kilter by the realization that tumbled over her.

The dawning comprehension in her eyes was hard to mask, and she felt something akin to tears rising up at her loss. She had thought he was hers. Her eyes gazed into Mattias and she held his glance for but a moment before he turned away, pretending to look beyond her into the tent, as if Kattica might be hidden succinctly in that small space. She tripped over her words, measuring them to give him opportunity to recant. Weakly they came out. "Do you do you know where she is?"

He flinched, nearly imperceptibly, but she could feel it as well as see it. His guilt was there. It was completely visible. Her heart cried in her chest at the acceptance of his traitorous act. He was her betrayer.

"I knew not she was here," he lied and she saw the falsity quite clearly, looking through him. "I thought she might be with you. Was she resting?" he asked, making her anger all that much greater for the grace in which he spoke these affronting words.

Her stomach caved and she felt weakness take over as her heart beat in maddening tempo. It was becoming too much for her mind to comprehend. Her head was swimming and her legs grew weak. She began to collapse, but at last his arms came about her, if for no other reason than to keep her from falling. Limply she leaned into him, arms loosely dangling at her side. The Elf was gone. The girl was gone. Her son had failed her in the greatest way she could imagine. And . . . she realized too as she looked on him and the clothing he donned, Anborn was gone.

Alas, the cruel betrayal. She wanted to cry out her agony as her mind placed all the pieces together to this puzzle. He had disguised himself for the sake of their escape. The evidence was there in the foreign tunic he wore. And it had worked. It had worked! No doubt was his plan to escape when she left the camp again. So close. He had nearly succeeded. Had she not cried out, he too would have fled. Yet a part of her fractured heart lifted when she realized he had come when he thought she was in danger. That was consoling at least, though she wondered if he would have fought for her safety, and decided he probably would not. Morbid fascination is what drew him, she thought. Cruel! He is cruel!

Bala's words whispered then in her ear, and she shuddered at how near he physically felt. "Take him then. Take him and make him pay for his conviction and deception."

She could argue this but it was pointless. Her heart was too shorn to find compassion and pity. Pay! He will pay! her mind raged though the sympathy and patience she had earlier devised fell away.

"Fear not, Bregus. Look ahead. I see something that will ease this conflict for you," Bäla said in an enticing whisper.

His words surprised her and she started. "See? What is it you see?" Bregus asked aloud, not liking that Bäla could visualize something she could not.

Mattias' face screwed up in question though she couldn't hear his words. She suspected he offered an answer, though it appeared to confuse him. She could see him mouth a single word: "Mother?"

"If I promise to lead you to the one who could take Kattica's place, will you give me our son's body as vessel to my desires?" Bäla asked, no longer teasing.

Bregus' eyes grew wide. Her anger at Mattias was tantamount to a raging volcano, and she wanted to lash out and hurt him. But sacrifice? Somehow she had admonished this notion when Anborn had been found, never really considering it as this event drew nearer. Instead of answering the request, she hedged, asking, "You know where to find her?"

"A trade, my love," Bäla crooned. "Your desire . . . for mine."

Mattias spoke again, but his voice barely touched the outside of her thoughts. "Mother. Are you well?" Mattias asked, but her mind could not register it while she faced this internal struggle.

Very well, she thought, giving in and allowing her eyes to wander up to Mattias and for hate to fill her heart. All sympathy was lost. All kindness was reneged.

"Do you still accept your fate whatever may come?" Bäla breathed into her mind.

I do not, she answered with hostility, pushing back anything of good that had been gifted her. Her stance grew tall, proud and authoritative.

"Take him then," the voice ordered again, and the decision was made. Her pupils dilated with her madness as she gazed about her once more with new eyes.

"Come, now, everyone. If she is gone, she is gone, and there is little I can do to halt her. Perhaps she is on the hunt with the others, yes?" she offered, and she saw the women's heads bob in acceptance of this explanation. "If so she is ahead of us, and is seeing right with our plans. Gather everything now. It is time to part."

She watched as Mattias' eyes darted about, realizing her menace and looking for escape. With quick steps she caught him before he had time, grasping his arm and pulling him with her as she came to the aid of one of the women. "Here child," she said to one of the women folk struggling with the bundles and a baby, "Let Mattias help you with this. He can take the packs."

But Mattias pulled back, tugging away from her grip. "Mother, I do not think"

"There now," she interrupted, "Surely you are not going to desert us when our need is dire. Curtik," she called, and the younger son was immediately there, "Convince your brother he must stay with us. Mattias, you would not be planning on running off to seek out Kattica when it is obvious she acts toward our tribe's need of aid? She is ahead of us, I am sure. I can foresee her now."

He stared at her and she could see he realized her ruse. She knew his actions. Furthermore, she knew his flight was imminent unless she did something to stop him. She smiled. "You will not leave us now, Mattias. These women and children need you. Without your accompaniment, how could so many make it through the forest with only Curtik to guide us? Surely you would not wish harm to befall any of these people. Their lives depend on you," she said, barely hiding the implications in her voice that spoke her threat to these people if he did not comply with her wishes. That was how strong her convictions were. That was how desperately angry she was.

Mattias looked stunned, as if caught in a trap. But it was momentary as he grasped his next move to break free. "And if I do not authorize our parting?" he asked, his eyes warily surveying those about him.

She smiled, knowing he was trying to hold her with his position of rank. Fool! she thought. I have spent nearly a lifetime learning how to get around such manipulations. That he would try this only made her resolute in her passion and hate. She could match his bluff, though now that he saw through her it was a pointless gesture. Still she tried it to measure what he knew of her. "You would not do that now, knowing what exactly is at stake. Ah, but my child, you look weary for all that fatigues you. Tiresome work is this, leading a tribe," she crooned as she raised a hand and made to touch his cheek.

He jumped away and she smiled, seeing how easily baited he was by the threat that he could be affected still. So Kattica did not teach you everything there is to know about me. For instance, how to fight me. "Frightened, my son?" she asked. "Of me?" she continued, scoffing. "Now I see for certain how desperate your need of ease truly is. Perhaps your brother here needs act as your counsel." Curtik smiled for the false promotion he had just received. Turning her eyes to her youngest she urged, "Stay close to your brother, dear Curtik. He is fatigued more than he knows, and his actions could grow haphazard with the strain. Stay with him. Stay at his side no matter what he does. And when we meet up again with Gordash, he too can aid in this task." She laughed to herself as Bäla echoed her sentiment of joy at capturing Mattias without chain or rope for she had effectively posted guards over her son. But she was not done. "For now though, let us be off and on our way. We must reach the Protected Place this day, and hopefully an Elf will be dropping from the sky at any moment to fulfill our need," she continued sarcastically.

Mattias, however, would not give in easily. "Nay, Mother, I will not "

Yet again, Bregus anticipated his words and actions. Reaching down and grabbing the nearest child, she swept up a pretty girl, barely three years of age. The child did not squirm in her arms, for she knew Bregus as she knew all the womenfolk of the camp. The old woman ran crooked fingers through the dark locks covering the girls head, pressing fingers to temples in the last motion to manage the hair from the child's face. Her fingers locked to the small girl's features in a manner she thought Mattias might recognize as one from her magic. "There, there, my precious," she consoled though the girl had made no complaints. "Nothing shall come of you should we travel companionably together. Though if we separate, I shudder to think what could happen to small ones such as yourselves." She smiled at Mattias, but menace was in her eyes and she made it quite clear to him in that expression that she would not brook any counter movements on his part. Tribal leader indeed you are, she thought, and as such, you will be accountable for the lives of those you rule. She wished to laugh for the bitter irony of it and the fear in his eyes.

He made no more sound, simply shouldering the pack to his back, and reaching out for her to unhand the child. Yet the look in his eye was scathing and harsh, and the bile of hatred warred within them. Sudden sadness filled her chest for her despair at his dark anger but she pushed it aside. She reminded herself he had betrayed her. Taking the child, he turned away, ending their sight into each other's souls. He moved ahead, thus effectively marching in lead to the group. He would take them to where the hunters might now be found.

"Do not fear for him," Bäla said with undertones of sarcasm. "He has all the makings of a fine tribal leader. I am sure I could do him justice," the figment laughed.

Bregus ignored this, choosing instead to watch Mattias carefully as she followed his path. "And where do we go now," she muttered softly to Bäla, "to find the other woman? Where do we go?"

"In the direction we were already taking, of course," Bäla laughed. "We would have found her regardless."

Tricked! Bregus realized it, and she shook in fury as Bäla continued to laugh. Betrayal reigned on all sides, and she could barely contain her shock or her hurt. Her eyes watered in frustrated tears, and she nearly screamed for her rage, but Bregus had long learned to master her true feelings, and thus she schooled her wrath into something controlled. They will pay! They will all pay! her thoughts seethed as she set her focus on the path ahead and the actions she would take.

"Mother?" Curtik interrupted at her side. "What of the remaining captive? Anborn."

Bregus did not even bother looking back, so certain was she of what had occurred. She snorted her disdain for the question as she shrugged her son aside and followed his older brother. "Fear not, for his place shall not be missed." Then gazing back on her youngest, she felt a wave of compassion and said, "There is no captive, Curtik. There never was. Forget everything you have seen and you will be peaceful in thought."

Turning, she smiled a menacing smirk as she looked over the deserted camp. They were on their way and the next step in her plan was about to be loosed.