"I said put the girl down," repeats the beast-eater. Hefting a crossbow, he steps forward from the shadows of the rock to reveal a tusked face and hulking upper body covered in fur. My eye catches on the arrow's dark, glimmering tip. Black bonechrys—rare and expensive. Like any other type of chrys, it'll pierce anything. But it'll also poison your blood.

Thrall complies carefully, his hands lingering around my arms as my legs wobble beneath me.

"Step back from her!" barks the tusked man.

My khajra does as he's told, and my knees nearly buckle beneath me as they're forced to reclaim my weight.

"She's weak. Hurt," says another of the beast-eaters, this one with feathers sticking out of his blue-gray hair.

The man with the crossbow eyes me, his nostrils flaring as the wind turns...blowing my scent in his direction. Then he signals to another of their party, a younger beast-eater with clusters of gnobbly horns growing from either side of his skull.

"Karholt. Help her."

The man's eyes go wide as he looks from his leader to me.

"But she's—"

"I don't need your help," I cut in, the words coming with difficulty as I gesture at Thrall. "He was helping me."

Tusk-man scoffs. "You sure about that?"

Before I can answer, he turns his green gaze on my guardian.

"You killed Shyrka," he says. "Did he attack you? Fought with you over the girl?"

Thrall shakes his head. "I didn't kill him," he signs. "A mirebeast did that. He attacked me as I was watching over her."

The leader guffaws. "You were just watching over a bleeding mirefallen girl in the middle of nowhere. An Eater as far gone as you."

"Yes," Thrall and I say at the same time.

"Yes, he was," I repeat. "And I'd have died if it weren't for him. He isn't going to hurt me. He's my kha...my guardian."

From the looks on their faces more than a few heard my slip-up, maybe even guessed what I’d almost said. I don't know exactly how they'd respond to finding out the true nature of our relationship, and I don't want to. Besides, it could give away our identities.

The leader's eyes narrow in my direction.

"What are you doing out here then, exactly? And what's your change? Any abilities I should know about?"

My legs shake harder as my mind goes suddenly and completely blank.

"We...um—"

"We're eloping, just the two of us" says Thrall, hands flying through the words. "Her family was going to Join her into a khejia in our enemy clan for an alliance. She has—a very strong empathy. She can sense others’ emotions."

I go rigid at that last bit, it's dangerously close to the truth. But I suppose it has to be for us to get away with it.

"They'd never have let us be together, even if it weren't for the betrothal," adds Thrall.

"Can't imagine why," says a slender, scaled man leaning against the rock. A few of the others laugh.

The leader's silent for a moment, staring at Thrall as though he's grown a second head.

"You're mad," he says at last. "It's a wonder you haven't killed her already. What clan are you from?"

Thrall hesitates.

"Greenstone," he signs after a moment. "Down in the southwest."

"I know where Greenstone land is," drawls the leader. "And I can smell the lie in your words. Your clan. Your real clan."

Thrall glares at him, hands balling briefly into fists before signing the words "Sky's Reach."

It's still not the full truth—as I know it, at least—but the tusked man breathes deep, in and out, and his lip quirks up a bit to one side.

"There we are."

He throws a signal to one of his men, and something zips through the air to bury itself in Thrall's neck.

"No!" I stumble towards him, but his eyes roll back and his legs give out beneath him as he collapses to the ground. I feel the reverberation of the impact in my bones, and my blood goes cold. But, though his Ember is stilled somewhat by unconsciousness, it doesn't go out.

Oh Firstborn, thank you.

"Who are you?" I demand as two beast-eaters come forward with shackles to bind Thrall's hands behind his back and another pulls the dart from his neck. 

"Huntsmen," says the tusk-man, lowering his crossbow. At my questioning look, he smirks.

"It's our duty to find and bring in those of our kind too far-gone to be left to their own devices," he explains.

"Bring in where? Thrall isn't—"

"That's our call to make, and none of your concern. On my honor, girl, you'll thank me for this one day. Now, will you behave, or do we need to tie you up too?"

"I'll behave," I mumble.

"See that you do, or it's the cuffs for you too. As for the rest of you—" he casts a glare across his gathered men. "Hands and teeth stay off the girl. I don't care how good she smells."

Thrall wakes not long after, though his eyes are glossed over and he moves strangely, as if through rushing water. I reach out across the Web and find the boar beast still lingering just within range of my abilities. I have the strength to call it…but not enough to maintain control. And even if I could, I'd really only have one shot to get us out of this—more than that, and they're likely to realize our true identities. 

But who's to say they wouldn't be on our side? 

I shake off the thought. That's definitely too much to hope. 

The Huntsmen close ranks around us, and we begin our march southwest along a path that’s barely a path, through thick forest and ever-steeper terrain. The pain at my core throbs on, blood running freely down my legs now. The beast-eaters are careful to keep their distance—those before and ahead of me in the convoy maintain several paces space between us at all times. I’m grateful, because I can feel the craving that thrums in their Embers.

"Why did you tell them that?"  I call to Thrall through the Link. It takes so long for him to answer that I start to worry he can’t.

"They would have separated us no matter what," he says at last. "At least this way, they'll help you get closer to the Chasms, try to sell you back to the clan they think you’re from. They'll protect you. Once you're close enough to the southern border you can—"

"I'm not going anywhere without you!" My words ring loud through the void shared between us, dripping with desperation. I don't care. "I won't do it."

"You can't stop it without revealing who you really are. And you can't reveal yourself unless you're prepared to kill everyone here before they carry word of us to others."

"What makes you so sure they wouldn't help us if they knew? Why would they be on Morovin's side?"

"Because officially it's Grailhold's side, all of the Mirelands' side, and because that's how they make their chrys," he says, tone grim. Resigned. "Or it was before. I doubt that's changed."

"Everything's changed!"

"Don't reveal us to them, Dhajia. Please. Trust me."

"So we're just going to let them...what? Send you straight back to Grailhold where you'll be used to track me down anyway?"

There’s another troublingly long silence. “If you see an opportunity where a beast attack might seem natural, you can try…but only once. If we can't escape after that, I'll make sure I never get back to Grailhold. That, at least, I can do."

My mind goes suddenly blank as it attempts to process his words, and I slow without realizing it.

"Oy!" Shouts the snake-skinned one who follows me in the convoy. "Pick up the pace, fall-girl!"

"You can't do that, Thrall. Promise me you won't hurt yourself."

The Link is loud with silence.

"Promise me!"

"I can't."

A cold flame rises around me, my own Ember surging and flaring in frustration, fear and fury. Untapped, unknown reserves of power hidden somewhere within me crack their floodgates and pour out, drowning the web in invisible light. 

There's a distant crashing from behind me, growing rapidly louder. I twist around in time to see the overgrown form of the boar emerging from the trees, snapping branches and trunks alike in its wake. It's milky eyes roll in its head, its maw gapes. It roars, pouring acid terror into the air.

This time, even expecting it, I lose myself to the fear. Before I know it, I'm racing through the undergrowth, thorns dragging at my skin to bloody my legs still further.

Several of the beast-eaters break away too, including the one holding Thrall's chain. The leader shouts for his men to master themselves, the words becoming a roar as Thrall takes his chance and charges after me. But the drug hasn’t fully left his system yet, and half the others are on us within heartbeats. As the other half contend with the giant boar, I hear arrows whistling through the air. Embedding themselves in trees, skimming flesh.

Please don't let it be the black bolts. 

The boar unleashes another gut-curdling shriek, but it doesn't have the same power of the first. There's more shouting, roaring and tree-snapping, the noises receding as the beast finally retreats. I fight the urge to look back at it, almost tripping on a rotting stump as I struggle to keep ahead of our pursuers. But the moon-pain throbs harder than ever, like a twisting blade in my gut, and my breath burns ragged in my throat.

Everything starts to blur. Pine needles slap across my eyes and cheeks as I run. A new pain erupts in my foot—followed immediately by more, exploding across my body as I stumble my way into a bed of rocks, brambles and twisted roots.

I'm still disoriented and swimming in pain when hardened arms wrap around me, hauling me up. There's an another inhuman roar from somewhere behind and off to the side—familiar and yet...not. It sounds again as the beast-eater who's caught me pins my curled body to his chest. This time, my new vantage point reveals its source.

Thrall.

With his hands restrained, he can't sign properly—but his fingers twist nonetheless, half-forming the hints of words.

"Get...hands off...I'll kill..."

A beast-eater with an extra set of eyes above his ordinary ones knees him in the stomach, hard, and he doubles over wretching.

"Bring the girl over here, Grish," calls the leader, hefting more rope from his belt.

"She's very weak, there's no need to shackle her," says the man carrying me, peering into my eyes with his amber ones, their slit-like pupils expanding. "I'll carry her from here." There's a rumbling in his chest as he speaks, a sound almost like a purr resonating in time with his voice.

A brief silence follows as the tusked man considers.

"Fine. But take a bite, and you'll pay in more than blood."

"Of course, K'vhar."

K'vhar. Not a name, but a title. Something akin to "Pack Leader."

"If either of you makes a run for it again, I'll kill the wolf-man. You hear that girl?" The K'Vhar barks the words, his Ember thrumming with satisfaction. "You're valuable enough to me on your own that I can take the loss, and I think you know you won't make it out there on your own. Just behave yourself, and we'll get you back to your people in good time. It's what's best for both of you."

His Ember remains steady throughout, with no erratic vibrato to indicate a lie or bluff.

"I'll do as you say," I breathe, the words barely more than a whisper. "Just don't—don’t hurt him. Please."

"That'll depend on how your companion chooses to conduct himself," he says. I can't see his face, but I can sense the smirk through his Ember, bubbling away like a cauldron of liquid smugness. Then he turns from me, thunderous voice ringing in my ears as he calls his men back to order.