The next day Amara sat at the edge of a pool. She was on watch, but her eyelids felt heavy, and she had to shift constantly to keep herself awake. They had been wandering in this cursed swamp for three days. Her hands were swollen and tender from the ceaseless moisture. Only yesterday Earwen had begun coughing. The combination of lack of sleep and weather conditions was becoming dangerous. But that was nothing compared to the attention the company was getting from the swamp's inhabitants.

Amara had started to see flashes of movement flickering in the shadows, as well as the occasional skeletal guardian watching from the trees. No malice emanated from the creatures, but Amara had a feeling they were waiting for something to happen, and she was sure whatever it was, she was not going to like it.

A soft rustling drew her attention. She glanced over her shoulder to see Thorindir striding toward her. She turned away, ignoring his approach.

"Why didn't you wake me?" His voice was tired but terse.

"I lost track of time," she said.

"You need rest just as much as us. You have limits like anyone else."

"I cannot sleep." She still did not look up.

"Why are you so stubborn?" Thorindir sounded exasperated. To Amara's shock, he plopped down next to her, leaning back on his hands.

"Why are you so overbearing?" she growled. It was strange being so near the elf general. Even sitting, he towered over her by at least a foot.

"Because you are so stubborn," he said, rolling his eyes.

She bit back a smile.

"They cannot take much more," he continued, his voice despondent. "They are not like you. They have never known discomfort like this. I know they are beginning to lose hope, and Earwen is falling ill."

Amara could not fathom why he was confiding in her. Was he looking for a rallying response? If so, he was looking to the wrong person. She did not know any better than he what to do and had long ago lost the skill of encouragement. "Yes. Some healer she turned out to be, your queen." Her voice dripped heavy with sarcasm.

Thorindir's head jerked up, and he stood. She could feel him staring down at her with his blazing blue eyes. Amara still refused to look at him.

"Are you really so callous as to make cruel jokes when we are all suffering? Are you honestly so heartless?"

At this Amara shot to her feet as well, finally meeting the elf man's eyes. "Heartless? Yes, that is exactly what I am," she said, face contorted with her own growing anger.

Thorindir opened his mouth to no doubt tell the woman exactly what he thought of her, but the sound of dozens of wolves howling swept the words from his lips. Amara's eyes widened in fear, her blood turning to ice. The rest of the party started to awaken, confused and startled.

"Everyone gather together and stand back to back. Ready your weapons!" Thorindir cried, running for his sword. The horses stomped their feet, whinnying in fear, unsure of where to run. The few torches had helped little to keep away the black of the night, but as the wolves closed in, the light illuminated their bright-red eyes, giving Amara an idea of how many they faced. She began to wish she didn't know, already counting fifteen different pairs of eyes.

She pulled two small knives from her waist. She had to make each one count. The rest of the company drew their bows. The wolves were getting bolder, allowing glimpses of their bodies to be seen as they circled the little group. Amara squinted, trying to see what the creatures looked like. Finally one stepped into the light, and her heart dropped. The beast was twice the size of an average wolf. Its head was snow white, its teeth glittering like jewels as the animal snarled. Confused, Amara stared at the rest of the creature's body, it was a mass of vines, moss, and fur, as if it were made partially of swamp material. Its legs were irregularly shaped, and instead of trotting like a wolf, the animal seemed to slither like a serpent. The rest of the animals were becoming more aggressive, and more and more of them began to creep forward.

"Hold until you are sure of your shot," Thorindir ordered.

Amara's heart pounded as the red-eyed canines slunk forward. She could hold no longer. She locked eyes with the first wolf again. It was the largest, the alpha, no doubt. It crouched lower, teeth bared. Amara, with a flawless motion, threw a knife. It flew straight into the animal's chest, slicing through the vines. The beast wailed in agony, rearing on its formless back legs. Amara grinned in satisfaction.

It was short lived, however, for in a few moments she watched the knife she had thrown work its way out of the animal's chest. It fell into the water with a soft splash. Amara looked back up at the wolf. It shook itself as if a fly buzzed around its head, then let out a bone-chilling howl. All the wolves took up the call like a war cry and advanced. The elves flung arrows at the evil animals, and though the arrows seemed to sting and slow their approach, it was the same as with the knife. The arrows were quickly expelled by the swamp creatures' morphing bodies.

"Don't waste your arrows!" Amara called out, drawing her double swords.

The rest of the party followed suit. The elf sisters carried no swords but were armed with knives and guarded by Thorindir and Nauro. Amara stood with them. How did one kill something with the ability to heal itself? She thought of the mallospen and knew its power had not left the wood. Amara took a fighting stance, but as she looked around, she saw that the number of wolves had doubled. How could they face so many when they didn't even know how to kill them?

The head wolf stood before her. It crouched and sprang. Amara screamed and slashed at the wolf as it flew toward her. She sliced its muzzle and forelegs. The animal yelped in pain, and glowing green slime spattered Amara like blood. The beast fell and melted into the earth like water, only to reappear and emerge from the pool in the swamp. Amara's heart sank. The cries of her companions alerted her that they had discovered that the extent of the wolves' special ability was even more devastating. The animals continued to advance, and the group struck them down over and over, but they always regenerated and returned.

Amara was tiring, her attacks growing sluggish. One of the wolves dodged her blow and sank its teeth deep into her arm. Amara cried out in pain. She stabbed the wolf with her good hand. The animal yowled and melted away. Amara stumbled back, clutching her injured arm. The wolves seemed to tire of regenerating. They retreated and again formed a ring around the company. The companions were grateful for the reprieve and regrouped as well, standing back to back. All were tired and slightly stooped.

"We can't keep this up!" Nauro cried. He stood on one leg, the other bleeding from a wolf bite.

Thorindir said nothing. Amara could see his mind working feverishly, trying to find an escape route. The wolves were moving forward, and this time they were coming all at once. The snarling of the wolves filled her ears, and Amara felt herself begin to shut down. She closed off her emotions. She refused to look at Earwen; she could not bear to see the fear on her face. They were going to die. Funny, she had never imagined it like this. In a dungeon or a fight with a hated enemy perhaps, but not ripped to pieces by a pack of wolves in a poisoned swamp. No one would ever know what had become of them.

Their torches were failing, and this emboldened the wolves more as they sensed the company's building fear. Eramire and Earwen huddled together. Thorindir stood in front of them, face grim. He and Nauro raised their swords half-heartedly. Amara followed their lead. At least she would die with weapons in her hands.

A loud whinny drew her attention. Kai was stomping furiously, smoke belching from his nose, embers sparking from his hooves. One of the wolves suddenly lunged toward the great horse. He reared his flaming hooves, shooting more embers. Some of the embers landed on the wolf, and the creature yowled in fear as it sprinted back toward the water, dousing itself to put out its smoldering hide.

***

Thorindir saw Amara bolt for Kai just as the last ember of the torches went out. Everything went black. All that could be seen was the noxious green blood of the wolves and their approaching red eyes. The wolves took up their howl, voicing their impending victory.

Fire erupted all around them. Thorindir jumped back as walls of flame encircled them. The wolves were snarling and howling, their silhouettes towering over the company in the glowing walls of fire. Thorindir turned and saw Amara sitting on Kai, her arms raised skyward.

"Find your mounts," she said, eyes fixed on the flames.

The elf general could see the strain of the power she was using on her face. Beads of sweat were appearing on her brow, and even in the orange glow of the fire, she looked pale as a ghost.

"Hurry!"

Thorindir dashed toward the remaining horses. They were even more panicked now, surrounded by fire, but the company managed to mount up.

Amara finally took her eyes from the walls. "I'll make us an opening." Her voice shook.

Suddenly the flames opened before them, and the horses needed no prodding to flee. Thorindir's heart pounded as they raced after Amara. He had never seen magic so powerful. The lost princess was slumped over Kai's shoulder now, drained, as the company bounded through the trees. Their horses were terrified and ran heedless of their riders. The wolves had given chase and were snarling and slathering at their heels.

They splashed through marshes until each horse and rider was soaked and covered in mud. Even the trees seemed to be trying to slow them down, casting out their limbs in the dark. Willows tangled branches around the passers' arms and were ripped from their trunks by the momentum of the riders. Larger branches whipped and slashed at their bodies. Pain seared across Thorindir's face as a branch struck his cheek. He cursed under his breath and felt the warm stickiness of his own blood. The wolves had caught up and ran alongside them.

"Come on! Come on!" he thought desperately.

The ground began to dry out, and the pools became puddles. They were coming to the edge of the swamp.

"We are almost out," he cried.

The wolves realized they were about to lose their prey and moved to head them off. Thorindir cried out to Nauro. They drew their bows together and shot at the lead wolves. The beasts howled in pain and fell back. Thorindir looked up and spotted natural light breaking through the trees. The party burst from the forest and skidded to a halt, blinking in the daylight.

As his eyes adjusted to the bright light, Thorindir turned back and looked to the edge of the swamp. There the wolves stood, but the sunlight and the magic of the swamp's boundaries prevented them from pursuing. One by one they faded back into the Aramgan, silent demons awaiting the next fools to enter their domain.

Thorindir turned back to his companions. All their horses were gasping with the fear still flooding their bodies. Mounts and riders alike were caked in mud and debris.

Amara was pale and panting, slumped forward over Kai's shoulder. Nauro was attending to Earwen and Eramire, so Thorindir spurred his horse toward the lost princess. "Are you all right?" he asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder.

She roused enough to glare at him. "Don't touch me," she said, but her eyes almost immediately rolled back in her head, and she began to slip from her great horse's back.

Thorindir steadied her as best he could. "Amara," he said, trying to rouse her.

She was deathly pale.

"Amara, wake up," he said, shaking her slightly.

Her eyelids fluttered, but she did not awaken. The others noticed what was happening and rushed over.

"Help me get her down," he said to Nauro.

Soon they had Amara on her back, and Eramire hovered over the lost princess. "The magic she did to save us was a great feat. I am surprised she did not burn up with all the power she expended." Eramire passed a cold hand over Amara's forehead.

"Will she be okay?" asked Earwen, her face creased with worry.

Eramire held one of Amara's hands in her own. "I don't know."

Thorindir was grim. "I will send Nauro back to Celeblas to get help. We are not far from the border."

He nodded to the elf soldier, who made to leave right away, but he had barely taken three steps when an arrow sailed through the air, lodging itself between his legs. Everyone tensed and gazed up the gradual hill, studying the tree line.

"Come no further," an authoritative voice called. "Or you die where you stand."

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