In the dark of predawn the air was damp, scented with sulphur and quite still. Salinda rose early to prepare for the day’s work. She let Brill linger abed as long as she could, then nudged him awake.
“Can you stand? We must be on our way.”
The whole landscape was hushed around them, but she harbored a lingering fear that the Inspector would come for Brill as he had the day before. The boy could not withstand such harsh treatment again so soon … or perhaps ever again. Yet his resilience surprised her. That something she sensed about him was still there; a spark, a longing, a drive for good shone out of him.
It wasn’t the first time that brutal man had taken an unhealthy interest in a prisoner. Fond memories of Danton, another young and handsome rebel, came to mind. They had both been attached to Mez, working among the vines. They had even assisted him in the early stages of fermentation when it came to make the vintage. The Inspector had decided, for whatever reason, to torture Danton, and harass him again and again, so much so that even Mez had agreed it was dangerous for Danton to remain. Mez thought of a way to help him escape. It was a difficult decision and one not without risk to them all, but necessary if Danton were to live. How she and Danton had argued about his departure. But Salinda would not leave the vineyard to go with him as she had known she could not abandon Mez. She had promised to carry the cadre after the old man died, and though it pained her, that duty was more important than her love for Danton.
Brill hadn’t moved from the blanket, though his irises reflected light so she knew he was awake. The sun’s rays lightened the sky around them. She knelt beside him and touched his shoulder gently. “It’s time.”
Launching himself out of his blanket, surprising her, he picked up the stone pail. “I’m ready.”
She nodded in the direction of her hut, to the platter on the stoop. “There is a heel of bread there—you can eat it on the way.”
They strode through other prisoners’ allotments as they headed for the central spoke that would allow them easier access to the cistern. Ragged prisoners skulked around vines; some raised their heads and greeted them with tired voices. Others didn’t waste their energy by looking up.
Pale amethyst light bathed the vines, brightening as the sun crept higher in the sky as they walked. Many times Salinda assisted the young prince as the heavy stone pail, along with his chains, weighed him down. “How do you do it?” he asked her. “You look half-starved yet you have strength and stamina.”
Feeling self-conscious she looked briefly at her arms while she pushed the barrow. Her skin was sun-darkened, almost nut brown, though still smooth. She was on the thin side, though she was healthy enough. “Perhaps, in time, you will have such strength yourself … Oh look,” she said, pausing to cradle a large bunch of grapes in her hand. “How beautiful it is.”
“It’s a bunch of grapes,” he replied, resting the pail by his foot.
“Yes, it’s a bunch of grapes—but a perfect bunch of the blood variety. The symmetry is exact, the color will deepen and the berries will swell. It will make the highest grade of wine.”
“What would a prisoner know of beauty?” he scoffed. “And even if you could appreciate such a thing, it is out of place here.”
“No, not so out of place. It’s all around you.” She let the bunch go, sighed, and set off again.
They headed away from the staging area, toward the very edge of the outer rim of the vineyard, where cultivation stopped and the plains began. They reached the central spoke and continued on. The wheel of the barrow groaned when it hit a patch of uneven ground. Brill’s breathing sounded loud in her ears. A quick glance revealed a face clenched with concentration as he managed the chains and the pail. Then the vines came to an abrupt end.
Salinda and Brill stood on the edge, sheltered by the surrounding vines. The plains spread out before them, ochre and pink in the morning light. Ahead and to their left was a large, open-topped stone cistern, surrounded by a few tufts of burned grass and ash-colored mud. About two hundred paces to their right were stakes of wood, some snapped in two. The feeding area was haloed with fresh dried bones and the flesh of killed carcasses. The stench of rot wafted over them.
Brill gagged and lowered the pail to the ground. A few burden beasts and other livestock, past their prime, were tethered to the posts, bleating and mewling their distress. Fortunately, there were no old prisoners tied up, waiting for death. Salinda squatted beneath the shelter of the vines, using the barrow to keep her hidden. Brill crouched behind her, his stomach grumbling.
She half-turned toward him. “Take a vine leaf and chew on it. It will ease your hunger pangs.”
He eyed the leaf in front of his face, hesitated and then shoved it into his mouth.
“Better?” she asked a few minutes later.
“Perhaps … maybe,” he said, chewing the leaf. “What is this place?”
Salinda no longer heard his stomach rumbling. “The cistern. Where the dragons are fed.”
“Oh, Magol preserve me. Real dragons eating. Why? Are you dust mad?” He gestured to the cistern and the livestock.
Salinda surveyed the scene before her. “There is a delicate balance here. I’m not sure how it evolved but it works. We live very close to the breeding grounds. If we didn’t give the dragons food they would eat the prisoners and then there would be no laborers. The bulls mark their territory.” She pointed to the cistern. “Even the young ones will spray and the cistern is placed to catch their urine.”
His face screwed up in horror. “Dragon piss? What do you need that for?”
Pressing her lips together she tried not to smile. “I told you we need the dragons to survive. The urine has properties, one of which is to keep the vines disease free.”
Brill swallowed. “And we have to go out there?”
“Yes—” The flap of wings and the pungent smell of sulphur made her draw back further into the shelter of the vines. The dragons had come to feed. They were huge crusty beasts whose scales reflected sunlight in shades of green and mauve. Good, a male among them, she thought. Fresh urine was better than stale. Clawed feet ripped the burden beasts and other livestock apart. The sounds of blood slurping and flesh rending echoed around them. She could hear Brill’s labored breathing, could smell the fear in his sweat. Before they departed, a large male dragon pissed in and around the cistern, marking his territory.
As the beat of wings faded, the bleating of a lone burden beast filled the air. It raked its claws across the soil and covered its coat in reddish dust, as if trying to distance itself from the blood and bones surrounding it.
Fetid air disturbed by the passing of the dragons sent waves of sulphur and acid stench in among the vines. Salinda crawled out, searched the sky and returned to her barrow. “Come, we must be quick.”
Brill edged out, dragging the pail with him, and followed her as she dodged pools of simmering dragon piss while keeping a ready eye on the sky. Luckily, there were stones in the mud close to the cistern to protect her bare feet. “Quick, the pail.”
He could barely lift the stone pail. Salinda leaned down and took the handle and rested the base on the edge of the cistern. “My gloves,” she said, hand held out behind her to receive them. He put them in her waiting hand, and she slipped her fingers in. Then carefully and slowly she dipped the pail into the steaming urine and poured the liquid gently into the barrow. Four buckets later the barrow was half-full.
“We won’t have time for more,” she said, eyes scanning the sky. “Quick. We must hurry.” She pointed to the ridge of the Fire Ranges. Dark shapes flew, growing perceptibly larger as they watched. One was closer than the rest.
Brill caught the gloves she tossed. The pail she laid on its side in the barrow itself, bringing the translucent liquid a little closer to the rim. “Run,” she said tensely, her voice revealing the first sign of panic. He didn’t hesitate. He looped his chains around his arm and aimed for the grapevines. She was close behind, going as fast as she could without spilling the urine out of the barrow.
The snap of beating wings grew louder and the disturbed air washed over her. Brill glanced over his shoulder, a strangled cry breaking from his throat. Outstretched claws loomed closer. “Go! Don’t look back,” she yelled at him. Then she slowed and ducked under the barrow, hoping the downdraft from the dragon’s wings wouldn’t splash the liquid over the sides. She held her breath, praying she hadn’t overfilled it.
Brill dived into the vines and shuffled around on all fours to see what was happening. She saw him peering out. The dragon had lifted back up and circled clumsily around. It had to work hard to stay aloft this close to the ground. Salinda huddled beneath the barrow, partially hidden by its shadow, hoping the scent of the urine would disguise her presence.
The winged animal gave a whingeing grunt. Peering at the feeding post, Salinda saw the dragon snatch the one remaining burden beast in its claws and rip the creature’s head off. Blood spurted over the dragon’s snout and then it chewed the torso in half. Chunks of hide and hooves landed nearby with a sequence of thumps. After an audible gulp the dragon, which had the purple-tinged neck scales of a young male, flapped its wings and lurched away into the sky.
Salinda made the last leg to the grapevines and kept trundling past the young rebel. Brill scurried out from under the vines and hurried after her. “Wing dust! … How can you just keep going? You were nearly taken by that dragon.”
Sparing him a quick glance, she said, “I’ve experienced worse. My husband was a beast far more frightening than that.”
She walked on. Brill struggled to keep up. “I’ve seen the scars … but that dragon nearly …”
Her pace slowed and she wondered if it was worth telling him. Mez had never really wanted to know. It was in the past and that was that. “The lashing my husband gave me was bad, but compared to the other things he did to me, and to those close to him, it was a small thing. When it was over the pain faded and my flesh healed. But I will always remember what I saw … what I felt.”
“Did you kill him? Is that why you are here?” Brill panted out his questions as he strove to keep up.
“No.” She blinked, put down the barrow and turned to face him. “Why would you think so?”
Brill shrugged. “Well … I thought he might have deserved it.”
“No. To kill is something I couldn’t do … He caught me red-handed.”
Brill’s eyebrow rose. “Another man?”
She shook her head, gazing away into the vines. “No. Not another man, another cause. I was the leader of the rebels in the barony.”
“Really? Which barony?” His eyes glinted with excitement.
She sighed. Now she regretted saying anything, though she admitted she should have known that Brill would be interested. “Never mind—it was so long ago. You must forget those causes now. That belongs to another life.”
Brill shook his head in denial, and his fringe of dark blond hair fell over his forehead to shadow one eye. “I want to know … please. You must have trained too. Unarmed combat?”
She nodded, but realized he wasn’t going to stop badgering her. With a sigh she said, “My husband was the Baron of Sartell. I was sold into marriage by my family at the age of thirteen. By the age of fourteen, I was fighting against his rule.” She spat on the ground. “Many regimes have come and gone since then.”
“But he’s gone now, I think. I’m not sure. Many titles were redistributed. You may be a rich widow now.”
She was shaking her head. “No, he’s not dead. Nothing can kill that man. Even if he was dead I can’t inherit. By law, my treason and imprisonment made him a free man. Over the years, my family sent word to me that he took my younger sister to wife and, when she died, he took the youngest sister. I haven’t heard from them for five years or so. I think my parents are dead, too, now. Perhaps he got to them as well.”
“Well … you are free of him then. You could escape and make a new life.”
Salinda turned to look him in the face. “Prince Brill, I am already free in a manner of speaking. The life I lead has its reward. Can you not feel it? Life grows here. All that makes us who we are is written here in these vines, in these grapes and in the wine.”
He slapped the gloves against his thigh, glancing around him without really seeing. The chains clinked with his movement. He gazed at them and the red marks and bruising from the shackles and said, “No. There is nothing here but misery and suffering.”
Tossing her braid over her shoulder, Salinda picked up the barrow handles and began to push ahead. “You felt the power of dragon wine yourself. How do you explain your rapid healing?”
Brill frowned. “I can’t. I do know I don’t have to stay here and grow grapes, though. I can buy dragon wine anywhere. You can’t want to stay here.”
“That’s not the point,” she said. “If the dragon wine is not made it can’t be bought.”
Brill’s eyes never left the green tracks of vines. “The Inspector?”
There was a hitch in her stride. That was a sore point. Without Mez, Salinda was afraid of the Inspector. Despite the gift of the cadre, Salinda did not know if she could handle him. “I can manage. I have work to do; nothing is more important than that.”
Brill kicked at the dark soil and followed along behind her sullenly. “And when you’re old, too old to work? What then?”
She paused and glanced at him again. “I will join Mez beneath the vines. You will bury me there.”
As she spoke, something seemed to catch alight in his eyes. “Not me. I’ll be gone or dead before then.”
Salinda quickened her pace until they reached their own allotment. The turmoil in her mind as truth, fear and duty warred within her rendered her unable to speak. With her ladle, she drew water from her ceramic urn and half-filled the pail. Retrieving her gloves from where Brill had tossed them, she added the dragon urine to it.
Sharp, tangy fumes rose and her eyes began to sting as she poured in the urine. Salinda drew out a handcrafted spray tool with a nozzle, a bladder and a pump. She filled it and then headed to her vines, pumping the solution onto the green leaves as she walked down each row.
Brill followed along behind her, the chinking sound of his chains accompanying his every move. His expletive made her pause. “Wing dust! You’re putting dragon piss on the grapes as well?” he said, half-outraged, half-unbelieving.
Truly he was city born. “Yes, remember I told you? The mineral content kills the fungus. This solution cures the vines as well as hastening the ripening process. The grapes will expand after this, deepen in color and make the sweetest dragon wine. It will be a good year.”
Brill clenched his brow and drew his mouth into a grim line. “How can you worry about how good the wine will be? You’ll get none of it, except the swill that’s left after they rinse the casks.”
With a shrug, she replied, “Nevertheless, this is what’s important. Without this,” she gestured to the vineyard, “all would be for naught.”
Brill threw himself on the ground and rubbed his fists through his hair. “You’re crazy. Freedom is everything. Who cares about the grapes or the wine or even the dragons?” She finished spraying in silence while Brill sat brooding. Without another word, he followed her back to camp and watched as she made up another batch of spray. Then he asked, “Why do you use the gloves and the ceramic ladle? Is it more virulent than the dragon dung?”
She spared him a glance. “Yes. A pure drop of this will eat wood, dissolve metal. Only the vines can tolerate it, diluted of course.”
He stared at her dumbly. “Why? I want to know why you think this is so important. There’s a link here—something I’m not seeing.”
Her spray forgotten, she came and knelt in front of him and held his gaze. “The dragon wine—it contains something that keeps us alive. That something comes from the dragons themselves. They came when the world split thousands of years ago. It is only through our connection to them that we live.”
Brill broke eye contact and shook his head in denial. “No. We’re not dependent on them. They eat human flesh and must be destroyed. You are deluded. If that is what you think then you deserve to be buried here when you die.”
On the third trip back to her camp to make some more spray, Brill followed her again, not bothering to pick up his chain. While she prepared another batch, he stood around and kicked at the ground. Salinda ignored him while she tested the pump. He hesitated before going to the barrow and playing with the ladle. She edged round and saw him dribble the dragon urine onto his leg irons. Minute splashes burned his skin, making him flinch, but the weld in the irons bubbled and hissed. With a wrench the manacles fell apart. He set to work on the iron around his wrist.
Coming up behind him she said, “What are you doing?”
He spun round, his iron chains dropping to the ground with a dull thud. “Getting out of here.” He shook his head, staring at the barrow. “I can’t believe the means to escape was right in front of me. Did it ever occur to you?”
“Yes. I know the urine dissolves metal, hence the special implements. There isn’t much point if one can’t escape from this place. The chains symbolize imprisonment. It is the dragons and the treacherous geothermal areas that keep the vineyard a prison. Why escape? The world is the same as it always was. One tyrant replaces another.”
“I will make it different, Salinda.” He had a wide smile on his bruised face and something akin to hope shone out of his eyes.
His words made her heart flutter. She wanted to believe he could change the world, but he was a young, ignorant boy with good intentions. It was her duty to stay here and grow grapes. Mez had never mentioned leaving. The cadre warmed inside of her and she tried to interpret its foreign emotions and tangle of thoughts. She recognized Mez’s presence as it surged forward from the white noise of the others. Remember Danton. She sucked in a breath. “Danton?”
Brill gave her an odd look, but then clapped her on the shoulder and her gaze swung to him. “Thank you for all you have done for me … I cannot stay.” He looked away and halted. Then once again he turned his eager expression toward her. “Come with me and we will fight for freedom together.”
For the first time in an age she felt tempted by the hopeful, excited gleam in his eye. But she shook her head. “Are you sure you would rather die than stay here?”
“I’d rather live out there and fight, and be master of my own destiny. If I die attempting to do that then so be it.”
Her heart began to race. Should she help him? Did she dare? The cadre’s warmth infused her. Chewing her bottom lip, she wavered, and then she knew what she had to do. “Very well … I will help you.” She pointed in the direction of the Fire Ranges. “There is only one way out of here.”
He glanced behind him to see the mountains ringed in red-tinged smoke. “The cistern where the dragons feed?”
“No, but not far from there. Closer to the dragon hatcheries. I have friends in the foothills on the far side of the ranges. I may be able to get you there.”
Salinda dropped her tools and went into the hut. She returned with a small cask which she wrapped in a cloth and a pouch of dried vine leaves which she tied together. Her movements were careful but brisk. Brill blinked and stepped back when she stood and turned toward him. She drew on a little of the cadre’s power and let it flow over her. “Follow me. This is the only way,” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.” She knew she couldn’t say how she would help him escape as he would probably balk. Best if he didn’t know.
Brill’s mouth hung open as he nodded. He was staring at her. “What is happening? Your eyes are glowing …” he whispered.
“Are they? Oh dear,” she said mildly, closing her eyes before opening then again. She tried to control the power emanating from the cadre. It was imperative that it remained hidden. “Can you still see the glow?”
“No, but …” Brill’s eyes were wild with alarm.
“I’ll explain later,” she said, trying to sound reassuring.
By the time they reached the edge of the vineyard, the sun was easing behind the ranges and the plain was a pale pink. Salinda edged around the border of the vineyard below the lower spoke, flitting from vine row to vine row, cradling the cask. Then, making sure they weren’t being followed, she scrambled across a stretch of plain into a tumble of rocks below the ridge that marked the border of the dragon hatcheries.
Panting, Brill came up behind her to stare in awe. “So close to the dragons. I can smell them.”
Silently, she placed the small cask of wine on a rock near where he stood. In among the shelter of the boulders, she stretched out her arms while facing the plains. “Yes, it’s a good place to summon one.”
“What?” Brill was backing away from her now, his gaze darting all around him.
Reverently, she raised her head skyward and called out in dragon tongue. Mez had taught her the language not long after she arrived at the vineyard. The words thrilled her, rippling across her skin as they had a strength of their own. With a little help from the cadre, she propelled them out into the land around her. Then she heard it—the answering beat of wings.
“Dragon!” Brill yelped, wedging himself in between some boulders to hide. From above, with the sunset glistening off his scales, came her young dragon. She smiled at the memory that arose. When her chains had come off she had tried to escape the prison, and Mez had chased her. When she’d climbed up the rock face of the hatchery, she’d found the dragon’s newly hatching egg. That had signaled a change in her relationship with Mez, and in how she viewed the world.
The creature settled on the ground, disturbing rock fragments as he ambled in Salinda’s direction, with his dark purple head arrowing back and forth. Salinda sensed the power of the young dragon, like the sea’s tide flowing into her. He’d grown a little since the last time she’d seen him, a few dark purple scales added to his neck column.
Plu lowered his head to Salinda’s height and she caressed his snout. The dragon hissed and closed an eye. Brill climbed out from between the boulders, his legs unsteady. “I don’t believe this,” he said, his voice quavering. The dragon’s eye opened and regarded him.
With her hand still on the dragon’s snout, she called to Brill. “This is Te Nuan Pluresh. I call him Plu. I found him as a hatchling. You can trust him.” She reached inside the dragon’s mouth and rubbed his tongue, which lolled over his fangs. The beast’s body undulated, its tail scratching sand and crushing rocks as it did so. “He likes it if you stroke his tongue. When he flies you over the ranges you must thank him this way.”
Brill’s eyes looked as if they would pop from his head. The dragon, Plu, lifted a wing, sending dust raining down on Brill. He stepped back, brushing the dirt from his clothes.
“Dragons kill,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes wide as she petted the young dragon. “How did you tame a dragon?”
A smile curled her lips. “Yes, they usually kill. I raised Plu with Mez’s help. It wasn’t easy, but out on the rim we’re left mostly alone, and we could hide Plu when he was young. Mez was able to sneak food to him. Then when he was large enough we reintroduced him to the hatchery.” Salinda swallowed, remembering how terrified they had been. “He’s remembered me ever since and understands the voice shapes I make.”
“Voice shapes?”
“Yes.” She frowned as she tried to think of an explanation. It had made sense when Mez explained it to her. “The dragon tongue is more about the word shaping the thought so that dragons, well actually just Plu, can understand. It’s not like our language at all. For me he will resist the urge to eat human flesh. He alone answers my call, and it is my call alone he will answer.”
Brill gaped at her. “So you think the dragon is telepathic?”
Salinda cocked her head to the side. “Thought-to-thought? I have never thought of it that way. And the opportunity to test that is rather limited. I haven’t seen Plu in the flesh since well before Mez died.”
Then, in a heartbeat, she saw Brill’s expression change, saw the calculation, the rethinking of all that had passed between them and the knowledge of her power. “You must come with me,” he said in a voice that was rough with emotion.
Salinda detected a surge in the heat of the cadre, which she interpreted as urging. It wanted to leave. That thought rocked her. In spite of everything she thought she believed, it was time to leave, to go back out there into the world. Her hands trembled. “I will …” The urgency the cadre pressed upon her filled her with anxiety. “But I can’t come with you now. You must go first, as I’m not sure Plu can carry us both so far. It could be dangerous for him and for us.”
“But you don’t know that?”
Panic sent her heart racing. “I only know of one person being taken so far. I’ve never ridden myself at all. My duty was to remain here with Mez. Please, you must go alone, but Plu will come back for me.”
Brill gaze at her with eyes brimming with tears. “I hate to leave you behind.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” She did a mental calculation of the time that would pass before Brill’s return. There were a few things that were risky for her but she didn’t want Brill to worry. “When he delivers you to the foothills he will come back for me. I will come here tomorrow evening and wait for him.” Reaching down, she scooped up the small cask and passed it to him. “This is dragon wine of the purest blend. Give it to Danton.”
“Danton? A friend of yours? Did you help him escape, too?”
She nodded and then realized Brill had a stunned expression on his face. She had shocked him. She patted his shoulder.
“Mez did mostly, but I helped. He was like you. Too full of fight to see what was around him, and the Inspector took an unhealthy interest in him. When you see Danton tell him I send my love and will see him soon.”
Brill gaped at Plu and swallowed. “How do I do it? I didn’t know you could.”
Salinda shrugged. “I don’t know. When Danton left, he sat there and held some of the loose skin between the shoulder blades.” Brill looked where she pointed. “I’ll be here at sunset waiting for him. I will see you soon.” She didn’t want to instruct Plu to come back to her at that time as she thought it might only confuse him. She would call him, hoping that he had returned from the Fire Ranges.
Brill’s hands shook. He would have no choice but to overcome his fear of the beast. Plu was tame, after all.
He clasped her forearm and squeezed. “I look forward to seeing you again. Stay safe. You won’t regret this.” He took a step toward Plu then paused, looking back at her. “I don’t understand. What is this power you possess?”
Salinda took a deep breath. She had never told anyone about the cadre, but something told her it was important to tell Brill now. “Within me, young prince, are those who have gone before. For many, many years the essence and memories of great people have been passed on to the next generation by way of something we call a cadre, which also serves as a store of knowledge and power. Mez carried this cadre before me. When he died he gifted it to me. The cadre can only be passed from one living being to another. I trained long and hard to prepare for his gift. However, I am still new to it. For me it is fickle. My own doubt undermines my skill.”
“I don’t understand, but yet I saw—”
“Yes, I drew too much power.” Salinda glanced back toward the vines. “We cannot risk waiting any longer. You must go.”
With a final nod at her, she heard him suck in a breath and clutch the cask tighter before striding unflinchingly toward Plu. The young dragon’s eye tracked him as he approached, yet it stayed perfectly still, just as she had asked him to. Using one hand to aid him, Brill gave the dragon a final once-over before he climbed onto its back at the juncture of the neck and shoulder and secured his seat by grabbing a fold of skin.
Salinda stroked Plu’s nose and whispered instructions to him to take care of the boy, to take him to the foothills, to Danton, and then she stepped back.
“Go now, Plu.” The young dragon drew down its wings, flapping faster and faster, scrambling across the rocks to gain further lift. As he rose, the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, darkening his scales to blood red and then to black. Brill, too, became enveloped in the dark velvet of night and disappeared from view.
Salinda sighed and hoped she could hide Brill’s escape until she could leave herself. Climbing out of the circle of rocks, she angled toward the darkened line of a vine row. With her head down, she increased her pace, anxious to return to her home site and distance herself from Brill’s point of departure.
A noise, the sound of a muffled footstep or a hastily in-drawn breath, caused a hitch in her stride. A prickle of alarm sped up her spine. With her heartbeat thumping in her ears, she stood absolutely still, holding her breath so she could listen. Was there someone nearby?
Slowly and quietly she turned full circle, her senses keen as she listened and searched. Her instincts warned her that she was being watched, though she saw no one. Praise the source that she had hidden her power and tempered the glow in her eyes. Even here she could be burned as a witch if some zealot was vocal enough.
In the distance a dragon cry echoed mournfully across the plain. The wind shook the vines like a child’s rattle. The corrugated shapes of vine rows paraded around her and on the ground darker shadows spread as the strengthening moonlight filtered through the leaves. She waited until her heart slowed, until all the usual sounds of the night were in their proper place. Her breathing was light as she held herself still. The sound she’d heard was not repeated. Yet she was sure someone had seen.