They rested in the Fox Den for the remainder of the day. The only reason Jay allowed them to do so was because they could keep moving through the storm and the Skilae army could not. They all agreed that the more space they got between themselves and the army, the better.

Jay did point out one problem with the Fox Dens, however. There were no charted maps of all the Fox Dens, and they were made to confuse any who didn't have one, so the chances that they would get lost were great. There were false tunnels, booby traps, and who knew what else down there.

"It's not a big deal," Heath told him. "We can always pop out and look around to get an idea of where we are."

Jay looked at him oddly. "Then why was it such a big deal when I told you we would most likely get lost without a map from my mother's?"

"Simple," Heath said in reply. "Down here there are only a few tunnels that give you limited places to go or get lost in. Up there, there is every place to lose our way."

"Fair enough," Jay conceded. 

Zia was surprised. Whatever problems Jay and Heath had had in the past seemed to have vanished. Perhaps they had talked out whatever they needed to in order to move on and get along.

Zia mentally laughed at herself. Heath and Jay were men, and men didn't talk anything over. If Zia had learned one thing from living amongst the foreign race that was men, it was that they didn't have the same problems as women. Men didn't hold petty grudges, something that Zia had tried to incorporate into her own life, despite being a female. The only grudge she did hold was against Daxtor and his treacherous daughter, but that was anything but petty.

So Ike, Heath, Jay, and Zia stayed in the Fox Den and rested for the remainder of the day. The next day, they decided, they would travel down a south-west tunnel, or one of the Links, as Jay called them, and continue their journey to the capital.

Zia spent the evening playing a game of toss with Heath, using a small balled up piece of cloth filled with rice from the provisions stacked in the Den. Every once in a while, Ike would jump in and swipe the sack out of mid air before chucking it at Heath's head, and had Zia not been wounded, she had no doubt she would have been receiving the same. 

Jay sat by himself on the pile of sacked food. Zia glanced over at him from time to time. She nearly missed Heath's pass on one of these occasions, and she was just able to catch it before it hit her head. 

"Are you alright?" Heath asked her once she had thrown the sack back. "You seem distracted."

Zia tilted her head toward Jay in answer, and Heath nodded. He easily caught Zia's next throw, and instead of tossing it back, he threw it straight at Jay's chest.

Years of honing his reflexes saved Jay. His hand seemed to snatch the sack out of the air of its own volition. Even Jay seemed surprised when he looked in his hand to find the sack there. 

"Excuse me, Sir Doom and Gloom," Heath called to him. "It's time to play a game of catch!" He held his hand up and easily caught Jay's return.

Jay's lips twitched with a smile. "Sir Doom and Gloom?"

"Well, I toyed with the idea of Lord Doom and Gloom, but that title is currently taken."

Jay's lips twitched again. "By whom, might I ask?"

"Percival."

Zia snickered. Jay tried to hold back his smile.

Heath chuckled and tossed the sack to Jay once more.

Ike snorted. "I must agree with you there, Heath. Percival could learn to smile every once in a while. It wouldn't kill him." He turned to Jay. "You've known Percival for a long time. Have you ever truly seen him smile?"

Zia watched as a thoughtful face came over Jay. After a while, he replied, "No, I don't believe I have."

"He is rather serious, isn't he?" Zia mused. "Perhaps when we get to the capital we can find something to make him smile."

Ike snorted. "Good luck with that one."

Heath smiled at her and tossed her the sack. "If anyone can do it, Zia can." He smiled at her and Zia felt her cheeks begin to heat up. She looked away and tossed the sack up and down in her hand before throwing it as hard as she could at an oblivious Ike.

Ike fumbled to catch it, and the sack bounced up and down as it hit his hand. Finally, the bag bounced off Ike's palm and shot up and over his head. He leaned back to catch it, making sounds like "Ohh" and "Umph" and "Gah!" as he did. However, he overestimated how far the sack would go, and he ended up falling on his back.

Zia couldn't help but laugh at the shocked look on Ike's face at suddenly finding himself twisted and turned on the ground.

The others joined her, including Ike. One of Ike's better traits was that he could laugh at everything- himself included. 

Zia's laugh faded into a small chuckle, and when she looked at Heath, he was staring at her strangely. 

"What?" she asked him. She pretended to gasp in horror. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

Heath let out a burst of laughter, and for some reason Zia felt her heart do a little flutter in her chest.

"So, Jay," Heath said, changing the conversation. "What's on your mind?" Ike had crawled to his feet and he threw the sack to Heath. He caught it without looking. "And don't say it's nothing," he told the Captain. "I would hate to peg you as a liar."

"But it is nothing," Jay told him. "Just a bit distracted, that's all."

"Distracted about what?"

"Nothing."

Heath took a long time in answering, as if he were gearing up for what he was about to say. "Is it about a girl?"

Jay jumped as if he had been electrocuted. "E-excuse me?" he stammered.

"A girl," Heath repeated. "You know, a woman. A female? One of these things?" He threw the ball at Zia and she caught it, immediately throwing it back as hard as she could at Heath's head. it struck him on the forehead and Zia smiled triumphantly when Heath rubbed the spot between his brows were it had hit.

"I know perfectly well what a girl is," Jay said.

"So you were thinking about a girl!" he said triumphantly.

"I didn't say that," Jay said slowly.

"What's her name?" Ike asked in a teasing sing-song voice.

Jay looked very flustered, and Zia almost felt sorry for the poor man. "I- what- I don't- there is no girl!"

"Uh-huh, sure," Heath said disbelievingly.

"Leave him alone, you great bullies," Zia told the two snickering boys. "It's no business of yours who are what he was thinking about. And I daresay that what or whomever he was thinking of has vanished from his mind now, thanks to you two."

Heath gave her a gallant bow. "Already happy to be of service, ma'am."

Zia rolled her eyes and caught the sack that he threw to her. "Heath, whatever am I going to do with you?"

Zia was running down a long corridor. Her breath was coming in short spurts, and she couldn't see the end of the hall.

The hall was lined with doors, but there was something wrong with them. They seemed to shimmer and shift in the dim light given off by torches sticking out of the walls, like they weren't really there.

Zia looked back over her shoulder. A dark, looming shadow was following her, and it was catching up.

Come to me, Golden-Eyed One. The dark shadow's voice echoed around the corridor and in Zia's head, like a ghost. It spoke with a familiar voice, one Zia could never forget.

Daxtor.

Zia knew she was dreaming, but it didn't make it any less terrifying. It felt so real, yet so wrong at the same time. Nothing looked solid and everything glimmered, like she was running through a full sized reflection of an endless corridor. Everything was too dim or too bright. Other looked like it should have.

You'll never escape me, the shadow said in Daxtor's voice. Zia ran harder.

Zia willed herself to keep running, to run and run down this endless hall until the shadow disappeared. But the faster she tried to run, the harder it became. Some force was pushing against her, holding her back no matter how hard she tried to push through it. It was like swimming against the tide.

The shadow loomed nearer and nearer until Zia collapsed on the ground, unable to fight any longer against the force keeping her back. The shadow slowed its pace, approaching her slowly, stalking her like a cat does a mouse. It was playing with her, waiting until fear totally consumed her.

The shadow reached Zia's feet, and she tried to scramble away. She backed into a corner, pressing as deeply into the wall as she could and shut her eyes, trying to block out the shadow's taunting. Then the wall disappeared behind her, and she fell.

And fell.

And fell.

Zia sat up suddenly, her arms flailing to find something to stop her fall. But she wasn't falling. She was safe in the Fox Den, sitting on two large sacks of flour that she had put together to make a bed. 

Calm down, she told herself. It's alright. 

She tried to keep her breathing even and steady to calm her taut nerves, but they refused to steady. 

"Zia? Are you alright?"

Zia jumped at the voice coming from the shadows, thinking that she hadn't truly woken up and this was just some vile trick her mind was playing on her. But it wasn't a trick, and it wasn't Daxtor's voice, it was Heath's voice.

Her racing heart calmed down a bit as Heath crawled carefully over Ike and Jay to reach her side. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "What happened in your nightmare this time?"

"How did you know I had a nightmare?" she wondered.

She could see Heath smile through the dark Den. "I know you, Zia."

"How unfortunate for you."

She had meant it as a joke, but the look that Heath gave her told her that he didn't find it all that funny. "I count myself very fortunate to know you, Zia." 

She had never heard Heath sound so serious, and for some odd reason her heart began to race again. Before she had time to think of a proper reply, Heath insisted. "What was it this time?"

Zia looked down, suddenly embarrassed. "Daxtor," she whispered, afraid of what he would think of her nightmares.

To her surprise, he smiled sadly. "I thought so. It doesn't surprise me, really. I had always just assumed Arch was exaggerating his horridness, but now that I've seen him for myself, I think he was underselling it. I don't think I will ever get that smell out of my nose."

Zia gave a small smile at the jest, but it didn't last long.

She felt Heath's hand under her chin and he gently tipped it upward so she would look at him. When she finally did, she was surprised at his closeness. "I'm not going to let him hurt you again, Zia. I promise."

"He's hurting me now, and he's not even here."

"Psychological abuse," Heath spat. "Almost more barbaric than physical- almost."

"How come you seem to know so much about it?" she asked curiously.

"Hm? Oh, I read a book." His hand dropped from her chin. "You should get back to sleep. You'll need your strength for tomorrow. It's a long walk, even without all the trees and rugged landscape." He helped her lie back down on the flour sacks and drew her blanket up under her chin, tucking her in. 

Zia snuggled down into the sack and pulled the blanket tighter around her. She closed her eyes and tried to relax and keep the thoughts of her nightmare at bay.

"Sleep well, Zia," Heath said.

Zia was in the middle of taking a deep, calming breath when Heath swiftly placed a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek.

Zia froze, her breath caught in her throat. She was completely still as she listened to the shuffling as Heath made his way back over to his sleeping area to lie down. She remained that way until she heard his breath calm into a slow, rhythmic pace.

Zia's brain was reeling. What had just happened. Had Heath just- no. She had probably just imagined it. All the walking of the day and her nightmare must have driven her brain to create hallucinations. That was it. She had imagined it. There was still a niggling doubt, but she squandered it. Heath was her best friend. He was like a brother to her. Surely he didn't think of her in that light?

Finally able to put her mind at rest, Zia drifted off to sleep.

Heath was right, the journey was hard. Despite the lack of the biting wind, snow, and shifting terrain, Zia's arms were sore after the first hour of walking with her staff and she had to ask for a break. Her arms felt like stretched and worn leather that had been left to dry in the sun too long.

By the time they reached the first Fox Den that the Link led them to, Zia felt she was going to break the wretched staff in anger and frustration.

"Calm down, Zia," Heath told her, sensing her mood. He helped ease her down onto the Den floor and smiled at her. Zia's pulse began to race and she looked away, embarrassed.

Zia still wasn't sure how she felt about what had happened the night before. She had tried to convince herself that it was just part of her dream or some crazy fantasy created by her sleep-deprived mind. She played the scene over and over in her head, but each time she came to the same conclusion: it had really happened. And she didn't know if it excited or frightened her.

"We need to keep moving," Jay said anxiously. He had been impatient and, frankly, a little paranoid since they had left his mother's cabin. He was always looking around, always itching to move again. He was acting like an animal with a hunter in hot pursuit.

"Is everything alright, Jay?" Zia asked him.

"Fine," he said harshly. "Sorry," he said softer. "Just a bit edgy."

"A bit, my bum," Ike snorted.

"Don't be so vulgar, Ike," Jay told him as he again began to pace the length of the new Fox Den.

Ike's eyebrow slowly climbed its way up his forehead and behind his hair. "Vulgar? We just wiped out an entire party of bandits that shot Zia through the leg, and me saying 'bum' is vulgar."

"Watch your mouth, Isaac," Zia pretended to snap at him. "Or I'll wash it out with a bar of soap."

"Where are you going to get one of those?" Ike challenged.

"Well, if I can't find one, I can always punish you by cooking dinner."

Ike paled, and Zia resisted the urge to roll her eyes and groan. She honestly wasn't a bad cook. Well, she wasn't that bad. So she liked her salted pork with a little more salt than pork. And maybe her stew had a little too much water and not enough meat and potatoes. What was wrong with that?

"Alright, I'm sorry," Ike said, his face getting whiter and whiter by the second at the thought of eating Zia's food.

Heath started to laugh and tried to cover it with a coughing fit, but the laughing broke through.

Zia turned on him, looking unimpressed, brows raised. "Perhaps you'd like a little beans and ham for dinner this evening?"

At her look, Heath's smile slowly faded until he looked very solemn indeed. "I-I've been trying to watch my weight, but thank you for the offer."

With a smug smile Zia said, "Just as I thought."

Jay watched the exchange with confused eyes. "Can you not cook?" he asked her.

Heath and Ike shook their heads frantically, eyes wide and full of warning, but if Jay saw them, he gave no indication.

"Can I? As in do I have the mental and physical capacity to cook?" She roughly kicked Ike in the shin when she saw him shaking his head. "In that case yes. Is my cooking very good? I've been told otherwise." She tilted her head towards Ike and Heath, who were trying not to make eye contact.

"Really?" Jay looked shocked. "Please don't take this offensively, Zia, but I thought all women could cook."

Heath barked with laughter. "I don't know if you've figured this out yet, Jay, but Zia defies all assumptions of women."

Zia blushed slightly, but couldn't help but smile. She had tried very hard to be seen as an equal to men, as all women should. She was glad to see she was succeeding in that.

"But surely you must be able to cook something?" Jay asked. He ceased his pacing and joined his companions in a circle on the floor.

Zia thought back to all the things she had ever cooked, and was surprised to find that there weren't that many after Arch had rescued her from Daxtor. When she, Ike, and Arch went to live in the forest at the Thieve's headquarters, she had offered to cook, but Arch had always told her she was too young and would learn when she was older. When she was older, Cook was always around, and he didn't let anyone- anyone- in his kitchen.

She tried to think of something she had made that people hadn't retched when they tasted it, but she came up blank.

Just as she was about to open her mouth to reply that no, there was nothing she could cook decently, a memory surfaced in her mind. It was from about six years previous. The Thieves had come back from a raid in a large village to the east and they had brought a rare and special treat- honey.

"Yes," Zia said slowly. "I'm not half bad at making porridge with honey." Ike and Heath both smiled and chorused a heart-felt, "Mmmmm," at the memory of the gooey, sticky supper.

Cook had been sick at the time, and Coral and Ivy, the two other girls in their ranks, were going through mediatory training, so being the only female in a large group of males, it was assumed that she should be the one to cook dinner. So she had set to work, throwing all the barley and oats she could find in warm water and waiting for them to soften. When they had, Zia had mixed in the honey, stirring it in until she had felt that the oats and barley had soaked in enough of it. She had then added some various fruits to the mixture, and a pinch of cinnamon for good measure. It was the only food in memory that Zia had prepared successfully.

"I remember that," Ike said, smacking his lips at the memory of the sweet dish. "That was delicious."

Heath nodded his agreement, but he was interrupted by his stomach, which growled and bubbled loudly, echoing off the Den walls. "All this talk of food is making me hungry," he explained. "Now I'm craving porridge with honey."

Jay stood and made his way over to the shelves placed in the corner. They held less food and supplies than the last Den, but there seemed to be more variety. While the last Den had stored mostly flour and rice, this one had an assortment of oats, wheat, barley, flours, a variety of other things.

"You're in luck, Heath," Jay said as he plucked a jar off the shelf and opened it. He glanced at the contents therein and closed it again. He tossed the jar gently to Heath, who caught it with ease. He opened it and peered inside. He smiled and offered the jar to Ike, who repeated Heath's actions and looked expectantly at Zia. It took her a while to realize that Jay and Heath were doing the same.

"What?" she demanded.

In answer, Ike passed the jar to her and she looked inside. Honey.

She looked at them in surprise. "Honey? Why is there honey down here?"

"The ancients brought all kinds of food down here," Jay reminded her.

Ike stood and joined Jay in looking at the supplies. "Oh, look here! A bag of barley! And dried fruits! Well I'll be a dragon's uncle! See here! Cinnamon!"

Odd that the exact ingredients I used in that porridge are down here, Zia thought.

Heath, Ike, and Jay all looked at Zia expectantly.

"What?" she demanded. Then it clicked. "No. No, it's been years since I made that porridge. I'm not sure I remember how I did it."

"Even if you don't, porridge is so simple, even you can't ruin it," Heath told her with a playful nudge.

Zia looked at him cooly. "Challenge accepted."

"Come on, Zia, please?" Ike made his eyes big and wide and arranged his face to look pouty.

"There's not even a pot I could cook in," Zia pointed out.

"Zia, do you really think the ancient Otarians would bring all this food down here without a way to cook it?" Jay asked.

Still looking for a way out of it, Zia turned to Jay. "Shouldn't we get a move on? I think I'm ready to walk again."

As if Jay knew exactly what she was thinking, he smiled and said, "I suppose we have time to stop for lunch. But you better make it worth it," he warned.

"Not you too!" Zia rolled her eyes. "Come on, really, this is ridiculous." She sighed. "You're not going to let me get out of this, are you?"

The three men shook their heads together.

"Fine, I'll make the stupid porridge!"

"Language," Ike reminded her. She glared daggers at him and he smiled.

Somehow everything came together for their little meal. Ike found a large pot tucked away underneath a pile of barley sacks, Heath tore apart unused shelves for wood, and Jay climbed up the steep entrance to the surface to gather snow to melt for water.

Once everything had been gathered, Zia set to work. She placed the snow in the pot over the fire Ike had made on the dirt floor. After the snow had melted into water and the water had come to a boil, she threw in four handfuls of barley and oats and let them soak for a few minutes.

As she cooked Zia felt different. She felt like a small girl again, making dinner for her friends and family. Granted, she had only done that once, but it was still a sweet memory. She felt... powerful as she stirred the contents of the pot. She was creating something with her own two hands, and it felt good. It was how she felt when she held a sword- when she was fighting. She felt like she was in control, like she had a say in what happened, and that was something she hadn't felt in what seemed to be forever.

Zia surprised herself as she started to hum quietly. It was a children's song that Heath and Ike had taught her. It had lots of jumping around on the notes and even sliding into them. The song started off slow, like a lullaby, but with each verse it got steadily faster. Zia started to tap her finger against the wooden spoon to the beat as she stirred the porridge until it thickened.

"It's been a long time since I've heard that one," Ike said as he sat down next to her. He reached to scoop a stray bit of porridge that was hanging on the mouth of the pot, but, without even batting an eye, Zia smacked his hand away.

"You're the one who wanted this so badly. You can wait patiently until it is done just like everybody else," she told him without so much as even a glance in his direction.

Ike grumbled something about cooks and pickiness, but it was too quiet for Zia to hear.

"If you're going to complain you can go without lunch," she told him, sounding very much like a bossy housewife.

Ike must have agreed, because he said, "Who are you? My mother?"

"No, I'm your sister."

"Oh, that's much scarier," he said with a shiver. Then he smiled impishly. "And need I remind you that you're my little sister?"

"Only by nine months," she argued.

"You're right, we're only two hundred fifty-eight days apart."

Zia looked at him. "How do you know that? No, better question: Why do you know that?"

"So I can remind you how much older than you I am," Ike replied with a self-satisfied grin.

"I can still beat you in close-range combat."

His face fell into a scowl. "And you never let me forget that."

"You mean like you will never let me forget that you're older than me?" she asked pointedly.

"You see!" Ike said triumphantly. "It's working!"

Zia rolled her eyes, but couldn't keep the small smile off her face.

Zia went back to humming her song, and Ike joined her, his smooth baritone meshing beautifully with her clear soprano. However, as the tune gained speed their harmony fell apart in a horrible clashing of notes.

"What is that sound?" Heath asked as he joined them with more firewood in his arm. "It sounds like someone's dying."

"That would be Ike's singing voice."

Ike snorted. "Please, it was your tone deafness rudely overpowering my angelic golden throat."

Heath interrupted before they could continue their playful sibling banter. "Is it almost done?" He leaned over the pot and inhaled deeply. "It smells almost edible." He seemed confused when Zia punched his shoulder.

By the time Jay returned with more snow to turn into water for drinking, the food was ready. Zia dished the porridge out, adding a pinch more of cinnamon for good measure in each portion. When they each had a bowl, insisting on being gentlemen, Ike, Heath, and Jay urged her to take the first bite. She timidly complied, not quite sure if she wanted to know if she had made the meal properly or not.

But she needn't have worried. The porridge was perfectly fine. It was more than fine, in fact. Between the honey and the cinnamon, the goo tasted quite sweet, with just a hint of spice. The dried fruits also added a bit of flavor to what would have been a tasteless meal without them. They were hard from being so old, but the moisture from the porridge was enough to soften them a bit.

"Mmm," Ike said, licking his lips.

"Hear, hear!" Heath said around a rather large spoonful of the glop, almost letting his food fall into his lap. Zia tried to hide her laughter, but it only resulted in a loud snort.