I am better at waiting than Da. I am better at this than anyone. I could roost in a tree all day waiting for a meaty boar to wander within reach of my arrows. Da always said that was proof of me dull wits. I used to fight him for saying that.

And now I don't bother to fight about it. He was right.

I am a fool. Only a fool would coddle a toad while he waits for his elf-wife to come back to him. It would be great sorrow to Winter Mist if any harm came to Toad or if I let him hop away. When she sets him down, he stays close enough. If I don't keep him wrapped in me cloak or tucked into a sleeve, he'd be off in the blink of eye to search for her and get lost forever.

"Toad nurse!" Doran sneers as he passes by on another one of his pacing rounds. "I'm tired of waiting. We're not getting Baine back from the Niafer. Let's carve up the old bag of bones and be done with it! Might as well have some fun."

I glance over to where Da's resting. He's been up and about now and again, stronger and more his old self each time.

Creidne never leaves his side. She was letting him lean on her for awhile. Now, maybe thanks to her kind care, he don't need that. He still rests a lot though, and when he does, she sings to him and strokes his humpy back. I never seen anybody do that, not even me own Ma.

"An' I dinna think yer long-eared wife's gon' be back either!" Doran adds with a twisted grin.

All of a sudden there's a horse coming at full gallop. Oran the Ghost is here! His squinty pink eyes are glowing red in his silvery face and his snowy thatch of hair is wild from the ride. The lazy camp comes alive around him. He has one breathless word for us.

"Scatter!"

So it's come to that. The Niafer must be onto us. I look to Da first and see that Creidne is already helping him get up to horseback.

"Winter Mist?" I ask Oran. My fingers find Toad in the sleeve. I need to feel his tiny drum of a heartbeat just now.

The Ghost shrugs. "I think she got into An Caiseal, that's all I know." He jerks his lathered horse around and trots towards the river.

A scream and I whirl 'round just in time to see Doran swinging Creidne away from Da's horse. The horse shies as Da tries to slide off. Doran has Creidne by one arm, knife raised to strike. The way they move together, they could be dancing except there's a bright ribbon of blood spinning with them from Doran's first quick slash. Da tumbles off his horse and hits the ground with a sickening thud. I can't believe what I see! He bounces right back up on his feet, whips out his knife, and staggers over to throw himself between Doran and Creidne.

I take a running step to help Da and then stop in me tracks. They're hollering the ugliest of threats at each other so they don't hear it but I do. More horses coming. Our kindred have scattered to the winds, almost all. The very last of them is leaving. Aidan kicks dirt over the fire and stomps on it a few times before he leaps onto his horse. He throws me a hard look over his shoulder, then tears off into the woods.

Doran and Da are into a death-dance of their own now. Creidne sees her chance and runs away. I give out with a roar and jump onto Doran's back, digging into him with me own blade. He growls like a wounded animal and throws himself down. We lock together like two rutting stags in battle. One more lurch sends us rolling down the long, easy slope to the banks of the Boinne. All the while, the riders are approaching...