Nume's hair was flying freely behind her, caught in the wind. The umeno were faster than she had expected but she was aware that such speed would drain their energy much faster than their usual pace they could keep up for days at a time. Yet now there was nothing to be done about it, they had to be fast. Their departure had already taken way too long and Mersha had been right; the army had found its first victims.

Not long after they'd started their chase, Feyn had spotted the bodies in the distance. There were five of them, a young family of a species Nume only knew from legend. Knowing that they had probably been on their way to safety in Nume and Kran's tribe only made it worse for them. The guilt lay heavily upon their shoulders but they rode on without having the time to even bury the dead. Nume swore to do so on their way back, if ever they would return at all.

Despite her hopeful words in front of the tribe earlier on, Nume didn't really believe in everything ending well. This was serious, they were facing an unspeakable enemy with their bare hands and no backup plan whatsoever. She took a deep breath and tried to shake free from her growing anxiety, enjoying the feeling of the wind on her face.

To the right, then to the left past the big tree and straight ahead; Mersha had memorised the path from his vision and was certain he could guide them safely to the army. Though once they'd reach the latter, that would be the end of all safety. Originally, Nume and Kran had wanted him to take them to the next possible victims to warn them, but Mersha had decided otherwise without telling them. It would be much more efficient to just stalk the army and thus get face to face with every possible victim at the right time.

Also, seeing that the army couldn't attack them might make it easier for others to believe what they had to say. This way, nobody had to die. Or at least so Mersha hoped. He was painfully aware of range weapons and the damage they could cause to everyone involved. Now he wished he had inherited more than just foretelling from his mother. Her witchcraft would have come in handy to stop an arrow. Unfortunately however, they didn't have any witch nor wizard with them.

The only magical thing they had was indeed a small flute made of the horn of a dragon... But the one playing it had no idea of its powers and Mersha wasn't too sure whether now was the right time to tell him. Inexperienced as Tarlequin was, a first attempt at unravelling the magic inside the instrument might just as easily hit them as anybody around them and nobody really knew what the flute would do.

From what Mersha had heard, he just knew the bard had got it from an ancient siren, a foreteller herself, though of a less specific kind than Mersha was. He could see the future clearly, in all its possible shapes. Other foretellers usually had to imagine things and go by a feeling to which version was most likely to come true. He'd have loved to ask the siren but since she was dead, that was rather difficult. Of course he could still have done it, but some dead people just didn't want to be contacted and thus ignored any calls.

Only now Mersha realised that the queen was watching them again. She smiled at him when she noticed he'd seen her. Usually, she would speak to him and chat a little, but today, she was silent. Her face just seemed to be hovering in the air beside his umeno, travelling at the exact same speed. He wondered whether she could contact her officers from the other world or whether all she could do was watch. So far, he hadn't heard of anybody else ever speaking to her in this world.

Hello, he said, using his mind to contact her. She continued smiling but didn't reply. Now that was rude. You're still in the other world then? He asked to mock her. She'd certainly not wanted to give that information away. The surprise that lit up on her face for a split second made Mersha smile in return. He made his umeno fall back so he could inform the others about it and as he did so, the queens face faded away.

You don't want this. The voice had started talking again, Corvaer replied with a sigh. He'd been so happy once it had finally shut up after their first kill. The family had been stupid, the father was the first to strike and the first to die. With a terrible scream, the mother had attempted to defend her children, swinging her fallen husbands sword like a child. Although to be honest, her children had even been better at it. The two older ones, boys, had tried after her. In the end, there had just been a little girl, far from womanhood. She'd held a dagger and tears had been running down her cheeks. All it took for her to snap and strike was one soldier leaning over her with a terrifying grin. She'd closed her yellow eyes, screamed and hit her weapon into his shoulder. A rather pointless shot, but enough to allow him to take her life as well.

Throughout all of it, the voice had been shouting at Corvaer, giving him a terrible headache. But once it was over, it just stopped. Corvaer was too happy to question this unexpected move. But now that the voice returned and sounded all calm and cunning, he wished he had. Maybe he shouldn't have given it so much time to think.

What don't I want? He asked, trying to get anything out of it.

This.

Stop being cryptic. Corvaer rolled his eyes and yawned. To emphasize how little he cared, he stretched and twisted until he saw something behind him. Well, something other than his men. There was a group of about twenty people approaching them quickly and he immediately recognised the harpy, though he didn't know how he knew her.

She's your friend. The voice commented, much to Corvaer's dislike.

Well, if she attacks, she's going to die under a friend's sword then...

//Alright, building up some tension, don't forget to vote and comment :)