Emery wished she'd thought to pack dinner. As it was, she didn't even think she could ask Cathbad to magic something into existence, because Lóegaire and Fergus were so pleased with what they were able to offer her, and while roasted coyote and squirrel sounded less than appetizing, she could tell the others were looking forward to it. They'd lit a fire in one of the many pits set up for roasting marshmallows on summer camp nights, built some sort of wooden structure over it, and hung the flayed carcasses of several dead critters from it so they were just above the flames. Emery sat in an adirondack chair in front of the fire, wrapped in a fleece blanket she'd brought from home, and watched the men around her. Most of them were scattered about, conversing or practicing some swordplay in the dusk, but the ginormous Fergus and less discomfiting Lóegaire were near her, watching their meats and, in the case of the latter, chatting with her.

Cathbad had gone off to consult his runes (that'd been over an hour ago), leaving Emery at the mercy of the warriors, though in the short time she'd been with them since leaving her house, they'd been at best too talkative and at worst standoffish. She sort of preferred those who kept their distance, but in the case of Lóegaire, she found an easy conversationalist.

He'd told her all about their stay, what they thought of the campsite, who'd been quarreling with whom, what Cathbad had told them about this job, and how easy it was to hunt in the area. Emery had learned much gossip about the others from him. She'd learned that Bricriu, though he looked innocent enough, was a rather wily fellow, one to be watched, as he'd recited many a vengeful poem in public, to the shame of its intended victim. She'd heard that Cethern mac Fintain--who was huge and too terrifying to gaze upon long enough to really know what he looked like--preferred to go into battle stark naked. And she'd listened intently to the description of Keltar's enormous fort, where it was rumored a new room was built for every mistress he acquired, as he never wished to make love to two women in the same chamber. The brothers, Lóegaire informed her, were as young as she'd thought--twenty-two, twenty, and eighteen--but their skill with swords had earned them immediate admittance into the Red Branch Knights. They were apparently rather modest and kept to themselves, so not much more was known about them, at least according to Lóegaire.

About Fergus, Emery learned little, which was likely because he was standing next to Lóegaire while the man prattled on about the others. And about Lóegaire himself, she understood from Fergus's intermittent snorts and eye-rolls that Lóegaire was not quite taken seriously amongst the others, though he seemed nice enough to her.

When the meat was done, Fergus gave some sort of roar that must've been a dinner call, because the other men meandered over and gathered round, taking turns cutting meat off the roasts with whatever daggers or knives they had hidden in all their layers. Lóegaire made sure to hew a leg off one of the squirrels and pass it to Emery before obtaining his own meal, and she thanked him as earnestly as possible, though when no one was looking, she tossed the meat over her shoulder into the pond.

Watching the men eat and laugh and talk about things she couldn't comprehend (mostly due to their heavy accents, which they didn't temper unless speaking directly to her), Emery felt a sort of peace. She wasn't quite afraid of them this way, not all at once. There were a few who she wouldn't want to meet alone in a dark alley (or really alone anywhere), but together, they were tolerable. And she genuinely enjoyed some of the camaraderie she saw, particularly that of the three brothers who were indeed quieter than the others and conversed mostly with themselves, though they seemed to enjoy one another's company. And besides, they were rather easy to look at, especially as they laughed and joked with one another and their eyes and smiles sparkled.

Growing bored, Emery pulled her phone from her pocket and scrolled through her messages. She'd texted her parents that she was staying the night with Tess to study for a test the next day, and then she'd messaged Tess what she'd told her parents and hoped she'd confirm it if her mom called over there. Tess wasn't going to let her off easy, though. Emery had several messages from her friend, all of them to some degree asking what she was doing, where she was, whether she was with Cathbad. And Emery couldn't just ignore them. So she told Tess the truth and begged her not to come out to the camp, though she was relatively sure Tess wouldn't listen. There were a few other messages as well, one from Deirdre asking whether she'd heard anything more about the "dark-haired knight," whom Emery knew had to mean one of the brothers, though she couldn't tell which. And then there were a few other messages from various friends, asking what she was up to, so she offered them vague replies and went back to watching the warriors.

For the most part, the men let her be, whether out of respect or trepidation or indifference, she didn't know. But at one point, Bricriu approached her and sat on the ground, cross-legged, almost at her feet. Emery was slightly taken aback, feeling his position was more fitting for a dog, but she said nothing about it.

"Lady Emer," he spoke, and it was the first time she'd heard his nasally voice. "The druid tells us you remember nothing."

Well, Emery thought. This one doesn't waste time. "He told you the truth."

Bricriu tore at a piece of meat with his teeth. Emery studied his small, somewhat delicate features, finding them incongruous against his thick silvery hair. He couldn't have been more than thirty, but the way he carried himself was more old-manish than youthful. She wondered what exactly his skills were, beyond reciting poetry. Or was that his only skill? It didn't seem useful in a battle.

"We knew something was amiss, some time ago, when we saw Lord Cuchulain brooding." Bricriu laughed hoarsely. "Well then, brooding more so than usual!"

Seeing an opportunity, Emery casually slipped in a question: "How was he acting, exactly?"

"Oh, temperamental. Truth be told--" he leaned a little closer to her, and to hear him, she leaned toward him-- "he's more often moody than not. You'd think him a child half the time, with his whims. One day it's fawning over a woman, and the next it's slaughter for a trifle. Oh, but he's great, is Cuchulain. Greater than any who ever lived, as a man of battle goes. He's won more land and more glory with his two hands than many a man's won with an army."

He gave Emery a scrutinizing look, peered at her with beady eyes, and she grew uncomfortable suddenly, leaned back in her chair.

"Ah, but you'll remember it all, won't you? When it returns? Lady, if I may be so bold, I do hope you'll consider me for recounting your story, when the time comes. I have a gift with words, or so I've been told."

"Thank you," Emery replied, unsure why exactly his request perturbed her. It seemed simple enough, as he was a poet. "I'll remember your offer, if I remember it all." She thought for a moment, then decided she'd better hurry up and ask more before he got up and left. "Listen--had I met you all, before? Did I know you before this happened? Can you--can you tell me more about myself?"

Bricriu threw some bones out past her, then fumbled with the laces of his boot and spoke rather solemnly in reply. "Nay, we hadn't met, though the renown of your Lady's virtue and beauty had long been spread throughout the land. One day, we heard tell that Lord Cuchulain had gotten himself married but that he'd lost the bride, and when we heard it was you, not one of us so much as blinked an eye."

Having no idea what to make of that virtue and beauty part of his comment (except, perhaps, that it was laughable), Emery asked, "What do you mean, you didn't blink an eye?"

"We weren't surprised, Lady, that you'd been spirited away."

"Why wouldn't that have surprised you?"

The man pursed up his mouth into a prune, stared into the flames beyond them. "Lord Cuchulain, for all his prominence, is not one to win such a prize without paying for it." He glanced back at her, rose, and inclined his head toward her, saying, "The Lady will excuse me; a man needs must sate his appetite."

Emery nodded, unable to keep from thinking he'd had some ulterior motive in choosing the particular details he'd shared about Cullen. Though he hadn't said anything necessarily offensive, Bricriu had left a strange impression on her.

By herself again, Emery wrapped her blanket around her upper body and decided to get up and find Cathbad. She knew he was in one of the cabins doing wizardy things, but she was hungry and was hoping the druid could charm up some real food from somewhere.

The sun had set almost entirely by the time she walked back toward the cabins, shrouding them and everything beyond in a blanket of darkness. The edges of the windows and doors of each cabin were painted white, likely so elementary school campers could find their way back after night hikes, and the trick was a useful one, although Emery could already tell which cabin Cathbad was in, as his was the only one with a light in its window.

Knocking, hearing nothing in reply, Emery gently pushed the cabin door inward, calling the druid's name. He didn't answer, but she could see that he sat on the floor between four bunk beds, staring at a circle of stones and bones and other artifacts that emanated a strange, pale glow. He didn't immediately see or hear her, and Emery understood why--he was enveloped in some sort of animal hide with smooth, curved, pointy horns and everything, and for a flickering moment, she even feared he might be Evil or Dark or Death, but then she shook herself free of that silly notion, knowing that this was indeed her own druid.

For some moments, unwilling to disturb him, Emery stood in the shadowed door frame and watched him work. Cathbad seemed to be in some sort of a trance, swaying back and forth, occasionally moving his hands over the artifacts before him, uttering strange sounds. The longer she watched, the more wonderment crept into her; whatever he was doing, it was something that appeared to take a supreme amount of concentration, and it looked to have many moving parts. So much of Emery's interactions with Cathbad had been haphazard or casual. To see him so absorbed in some sort of genuine sorcery was mesmerizing. What exactly he was doing, she couldn't tell, but she hoped it had to do with figuring out how to deal with Evil.

Just as Emery changed her mind and chose to leave him be, Cathbad spoke. "You may enter, Lady."

She'd given up on breaking his habit of calling her "Lady." While the title had embarrassed her at first, he was so used to saying it and there were far bigger problems calling for her attention. Emery looked back to the druid and walked farther into the room, approaching his bare-chested seated figure in its now-obvious cowhide. That weird glow that had surrounded him had dissipated, and Emery could see the cow's nose and eye sockets and ears atop Cathbad's upturned head.

"I'm sorry if I bothered you," the girl said, lowering herself onto a bottom bunk.

"I am grateful for the interruption."

"What have you been doing in here?"

"Much, though most has been unsuccessful. I wished to know my Lord Cuchulain's progress, but the signs tell me nothing. It is only your visions that have given me hope in regard to that matter." He huffed in tired frustration. "And I've sought understanding of Evil."

The man stopped talking there, though Emery felt sure he must have more to say. She waited, but the pause eventually irritated her. "Aaaand . . . did you find anything about that?"

Cathbad looked troubled, hesitated, formed his words before speaking them plainly. "It seems . . . " he began, "it seems that only what is pure can thwart Evil. If I understand, this may be a pure person, or a pure heart, or some other unblemished thing."

"Pure? I don't know anyone who's pure. Maybe a baby, but where would I get one? And what would we do with it?" Emery thought, frustrated. "Can we get some purified water? Throw it on him?"

That interested Cathbad. "Purified waters? Are these--are they holy waters of which you speak?"

"Um, maybe. Like, from a church? I was thinking more some bottled water, those ones that say they're from pure mountain springs and everything."

The druid would have responded if a sudden shouting hadn't startled the two of them to their feet. Cathad hastened to the cabin door, the brown cowhide's hooves trailing on the ground behind him. Emery caught a whiff of the thing for the first time and had to hold her nose against its distinct animal smell.

Both popping their heads outside, the two peered against the darkness toward the only light, the fire, and found that several of the men looked to be fighting. They were shouting at each other, apparently over the meat, and one—Keltar, maybe—had actually picked up a log from the flames and was swinging the torch at some of the others. There was the ringing of weapons being drawn and more yelling and swearing in tones anything but friendly, and suddenly, Cathbad looked to the sky with a cry for Emery to do the same. When she gazed upward, Emery saw that the branches of all the trees she could see were glowing like branding irons, red hot, though no longer just their tips as she'd seen outside her house. The branches were smoldering in snakes toward their trunks, threatening to engulf them entirely.

The druid pulled Emery backward and slammed the cabin door, wearing a look of terror that worried her. "I brought them here to protect you, Emery! I never thought they'd be the ones you'd need protecting from! Oh . . ." He ran trembling fingers through his hair, pushing back the cowhide. "What have I done?"

"What are you talking about?" Emery asked breathlessly. "I'm fine!"

"But not for long, I'm afraid!" He grabbed her shoulders and shook her roughly. "Gods, why didn't I see it? Evil grows within, not without! It's turned them, and they'll kill each other!"

"Well—well, stop them!"

"Yes, yes. Something that will work just long enough—oh, but I'm afraid, Emery—but, yes, you're right." The while he spoke, Cathbad hopped around frantically, wringing his hands and looking at nothing in particular. Then he threw off the cowhide entirely, revealing his bare chest with all its swirly blue tattoos, which Tess had noticed the moment she'd met him half-naked outside the she-shed. In his loose pants and bare feet, the man pulled his staff away from the wall and ran out into the night.

Emery stayed in the doorway of the cabin and watched as he hurried toward the crazed warriors. Her heart pounded, afraid for Cathbad's safety. From her distance, she couldn't see or hear exactly what he said, but a flash of light and a deep, wobbling sound resonated from around the fire pit, and when Emery could make out the druid's approaching silhouette, she realized that behind him, not only the warriors but also the very flames of the formerly-flickering fire had frozen in time.

Relieved, Emery praised Cathbad the minute he returned to her for some reason dragging along the carcass of one of the dead coyotes the men had been roasting for meat, but she blanched at what he said next: "I urgently request, Lady, that you restrain me."