Uarria did not know where they were, but she knew it must be very, very far from home.

As much as she missed her mother and her father and the world she had known back in the Holy City, Uarria had been with Ealin, Neshar, and Telai for weeks now. Just as the faces of her loved ones were becoming unreliable in her young mind, so was the idea that she had a life or a future beyond this journey. These were the only adults in her life now, the only source of food, of comfort, of direction. She woke in the morning to Ealin's face. During the day, Neshar and Telai's conversation took the place of the lessons of her nurse. She went to sleep to the sound of Ealin's gentle humming, and she walked all day long between the three of them, footsore and lonely.

Just as Ealin had taken Uarria's voice from her, so this journey was eroding the spark of rebellion, the memory of who Uarria had been before she became the girl on the road.

"There's a river up ahead," Telai said. There were dark shadows beneath his eyes. To Uarria, he looked sick. They had traveled thrice now in the terrifying manner Ealin called the "blood-path," and it seemed to be taking its toll on him most of all.

Ealin glanced down at Uarria, offering her a smile. "Can you hear it, sweet?" she asked. She had not called Uarria by her name for a long time.

Uarria could hear it. It had begun as a gentle rustling and now it was a rush, and as they continued walking, choosing a path through a wooded area, that sound mounted until it was a roar. She followed without protest when Ealin took her hand. The trees here were strange; they had long branches that fell to brush the earth, fronded with feathery leaves. When Uarria passed, she brushed her fingers along the leaves; they were soft to the touch, and she sighed with silent pleasure.

Soon enough, they were on the embankment of a river. Just past where they stood, the ground dropped off sharply, giving away to the rushing water; farther along, a shoreline spread like a smear of paint in the wake of an artist's brush, bordered with more of those sleepy-looking trees and other kinds besides.

"Pretty, aren't they?" Ealin said.

"We should set up camp." Telai unshouldered his pack and threw it to the earth. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face, and looked at Neshar. "How much farther?"

"House Aófe is a day behind us mounted," Neshar said. "More or less." He did not even take off his pack before lowering himself to the earth with a groan. Once he had sat for a moment, he worked his arms free of the straps and pulled a map out of one of the pockets. Out of another he produced the red stones he carried, which he used when they traveled by magic. Uarria did not fully understand what they were, but she had grasped by this point that they had something to do with the magic. "Are you up for another jaunt by the blood?"

Uarria's heart sank. She felt so sick every time they traveled that way. She hated it. What had happened on her last night in the palace had been scary, but traveling by the blood was far scarier. She never wanted to do it again, but it seemed that they would keep doing it, once every span of days or so.

"Not tomorrow. The next day, perhaps. If we could stay in one place—"

"No." Ealin dropped Uarria's hand. The two men turned to look at her, and she shook her head. "No. We keep moving."

Telai grunted. "As you wish, but I think you're a fool. We need rest, Ealin, and trekking afoot for weeks on end is the opposite of rest. We'll be dead by the time we reach Aólane."

"And we'll be dead if we stay in one place long enough for someone to find us," Ealin replied. She looked at Uarria. "Come away from the edge."

Uarria passed back through the trailing fronds of the weeping trees, following Ealin to where the two men were sitting underneath one of the largest of the trees. She looked up at the gloomy canopy from beneath. In the shaded area within, she could see a large bird sitting on one of the slender branches, a watchful bird with a curved beak and bright, golden eyes. Its banded wings were tucked tight against its sides.

Uarria pointed up at the bird, and Ealin turned to look. "It's a hawk," she said. "Don't worry. They eat mice and other small things. He won't bother you."

But Uarria was not bothered by the hawk; she wanted to look at him. Ealin took off her pack and let it fall to the earth. She sank to her knees and opened it, producing the wherewithal to make a fire. Neshar put the bloodstones and the map away. Then, with a groan, he hauled himself to his feet. Uarria was well-used to the routine by now. Neshar was going in search of firewood. She turned to Ealin, who gave her the blanket that served as her bedroll. She unfurled it on the grass and sat down, silent as always.

Uarria peered up through the dark at the hawk. It had not moved. She looked at the bird curiously, meeting its golden gaze. The hawk clicked its beak and rustled its feathers.

"Here, sweet." Ealin passed Uarria a hard roll.

Uarria took the food and picked at it without appetite. It had been the same plain fare for days upon days: bread, jerky, cheese. Most nights, Neshar would make a fire for the warmth and so they could boil water for tea, and once in a while there would be a rabbit or a pigeon to eat. Uarria missed butter and fruit and pie. Thinking of pie made her think of of her father. She closed herself around that familiar, aching pain, staring down into her lap.

There was a rustling sound from above. Looking up, Uarria saw that the hawk had descended to a lower branch. It was still looking at her, its head cocked. Uarria tore off a bit of her bread and tossed it over the grass. The hawk eyed her for a moment, then swooped down to pluck up the crumb of bread.

Giggling—albeit a silent giggle—Uarria tore off another piece of bread and threw it. And then another. The hawk lolloped awkwardly over the grass, snapping up the bits of bread and eying Uarria.

"That's odd," Ealin said. "I've never seen a hawk eat bread."

Telai was staring, too. "Don't, girl. It could take your finger off."

The hawk turned its sleek head to regard Telai. It looked for all the world as if it had heard what he'd said, and furthermore, as if it had understood. It had an appraising gleam in its golden eyes as it spread its wings and then folded them back against its side.

"Shoo, bird." Telai made a lunging bend toward the hawk, trying to scare it.

The hawk stood still. Then it took a couple of shuffling hops toward Uarria across the grass, clacking its beak again. Telai got to his feet, his short hunting bow in his hand. "It must be sick," he said, nocking an arrow. "Ealin, get the girl away from it."

Uarria tried to scream. The bird was friendly. She did not want Telai to hurt it, but she could not make a sound. Just as the hawk looked at Telai again, he loosed the arrow.

That's when something happened that made Uarria think she must have been dreaming.

The hawk spread its banded wings and brought them forward, as if it were reaching toward Telai to embrace him. As it did this, the arrow whisked by it, grazing its wing. It thudded into the earth, a couple of feathers fluttering to the grass behind it. The broad span of the hawk's wings narrowed and lengthened. At the same time, the hawk's small head grew; its torso grew; its slender legs and clawed feet grew thicker and longer, too. As Uarria watched in amazement, the bird of prey morphed into the shape of a sleek black wolf, already growling.

Ealin shrieked, bolting to her feet. To Uarria's horror, the woman lifted her hand, her palm welling with an eerie, dangerous red light. Telai's face was white. He dropped his bow and drew his sword instead.

The crackle of magic split the air, but the bolt flew wide of the wolf. Horrified, Uarria flung herself at Ealin's legs, screaming in her mind for her to stop.

"Get off of me, Uarria," Ealin snapped. She cast another bolt. The wolf flinched away, its ears flat against its head, and that bolt flew past it, singing its whiskers on the right side and striking Telai in the stomach.

"No!" Ealin screamed. "Telai!"

Uarria covered her eyes, dropping to her knees and cowering on the earth. Running footsteps pounded toward them, and then came Neshar's voice. "What in the bloody hell have you done? Telai!"

The wolf snarled. Neshar cursed. Uarria peeked through her fingers to see the wolf creeping backward toward her, low on its haunches, its white teeth gleaming in the moonlight as its lips drew back. It stopped before Uarria, every lean muscle drawn tight beneath its pelt.

"You stupid bitch! You've killed him!" Neshar rounded on Ealin, a dagger in his fist. He dashed toward her in a rage and slashed out. She lunged to the side; the blow grazed her hip and she crumpled. Neshar stalked toward her.

The wolf growled again and rolled its eye toward Uarria. Then, it lunged.

"What in the bloody—" Neshar stumbled backward. He raised his dagger and, after a moment's panicked indecision, he threw it. The wolf was already sailing through the air, and the blade went wide as the wolf's sharp white teeth sank into Neshar's calf, tearing vital veins and vulnerable muscle. Neshar howled. Blood spouted from the wound and the wolf paced backward, blood dripping from its slavering jaws.

Neshar backed away, limping on his bloody leg. He was fumbling for another weapon but could not seem to unsheathe it. The wolf darted forward, its ears low to its sleek skull.

"Get away!" Ealin cried. "Get away from him!" She had folded herself over her leg. Tears were streaming down her face. She lifted her fist.

Uarria covered her eyes. She could feel the magic sizzling, hear it slicing through the atmosphere; she could hear the wolf growling and smell the acrid scent of burnt hair and flesh. The sounds receded slightly, and then there was a scream.

When silence fell, Uarria opened her eyes again.

There was no sign of the wolf. There was no sign of Neshar. Ealin, white-faced, was staring toward the embankment of the river. On the other side of the camp site lay Telai, staring at them both with his wide-open eyes, smoke still curling up from the gaping hole in his stomach.

They sat like that for a very long time. Ealin was trembling, her hands hovering over the wound in her hip, and Uarria could feel nothing. At last, Ealin dragged herself to her hands and knees and crawled toward Telai. She began to turn out his pockets, whispering to herself.

"Where are they? Where are they?"

At last, when she had searched each of his pockets three times, Ealin gave a guttural cry, a sound that crescendoed in a scream, and then crouched on the ground, her forehead on the earth, and sobbed. 

And so, poor Uarria is still in the clutches of her captor...and now, once again, they're alone. I'm very curious to hear your thoughts on what has happened here, dear readers! 

Thank you for joining me this week. Have an amazing weekend, and stay safe out there.

xx Mina