**** (written 1/30/2003)

I would not dwell on it, but I think on it only to give full record of what has happened on my journey. Hopefully I’ve been intricate in my retelling of as many of the people, places, and events that have brought me to a point where it has become worthwhile to remember my story. But there are certain images that dwell in any person’s memory as a bright white ember even among the other hot coals in the fire of life’s experience. There was one night that began a line of events that would be inseparable from the rest of my memories.

****

I had wandered a bit from where we were camped. The camp had all been set by the end of the evening and most everyone was tired from the journey so they prepared to turn in earlier than usual. I assumed that Stele would be falling asleep soon so I strolled out for some time to collect my thoughts and concern myself with my own affairs for a bit. On the journey this afternoon I spotted a nearby bluff overlooking a vast expanse of practically nothing. When I saw it I knew that I would eventually return to it to have a moment of reflection, being as enthralled with that melodramatic sort of thing as I am. I could almost see the sunlight changing colors while the sun dipped below the hill’s edge. My wandering had taken me almost to the edge of the woods that populated this side of the canyon except for the one bare hill. I still hoped to reach the clearing before the sunset disappeared behind the real horizon that lay beyond the edge of the cliff.

Suddenly, but not alarmingly, that little voice inside spoke up to tell me that something was out of order here. I kept walking wondering what would set that reflex off out here. Then I noticed what my conscious had missed before. The dust, humidity, or whatever it was that hung in the air was twinkling. Scratch that, whole patches of it were moving between visible and invisible as though something was making a shadow on it. I looked forward toward the edge of the wood to make a guess at whether I was in trouble or just troubled about nothing. The back-lighting made it difficult to make out anything. I decided for safety sake to hold still for a minute or two and see if the other senses could be more helpful. As I stared ahead the pattern became more apparent. There was obviously something ahead. Either it was larger than I, or the low angle of the sun was magnifying the image to where I stood. The form I saw was a good foot or two taller, but slender and very nimble. The motions were fluid and methodical, but at times came to an abrupt halt and held for a moment or two before continuing back into the swooning rhythm again. I couldn’t contain my curiosity. Besides, whoever was there was taking away from my time in a near perfect ‘alone on a lonely hill in the waning light of dusk’ moment. I crept closer, sticking to the underbrush, and trying to move only while the thing ahead did. Several pauses later, I was thinking about how the silhouette was getting smaller to be now only nearly as tall as me, and how this was a good thing in case I was creeping up on someone else’s lonely hill moment who was more direct in resolving unwanted visitors than I am.

This time I froze while the motions where still executing. I could finally make out the source. Good news: she was just a bit shorter than I. Bad news: she was innocent looking enough to make me feel bad for creeping up on her. My decision: leave her be, make a noise to make her aware of my arrival and introduce myself, or wait on the decision until later. You don’t need to guess at where I ended up. I crouched to watch.

Each motion was sure of itself and intent on its purpose. I can’t quite say she whirled and moved like the wind for fear you might end up with the wrong impression. The dance wasn’t fast, but nimble enough to produce a sense of controlled speed. With one arm fully extended out to the side and feet locked loosely in their places she stood square to where I sat. Fortunately her head was turned and was apparently staring across her delicately upturned hand. Meanwhile the other hand was pulling back across her chest like she carefully pulled a single strand of spiders silk from her other elbow back across until it reached the opposite shoulder. Then it suddenly accelerated to make a perfect semi-circle, just to slowly return to the far side by gliding slowly in front of her hips. There it abruptly stopped as I’d seen in the last few minutes. She held in that position for a moment. I stopped breathing, partially because I was afraid that I had somehow been noticed, but also because of the beauty of the whole scene. The mysterious woman moved into a new and safer position allowing me to make adjustments and risk a look around for anyone who may be the intended audience of the performance. All I found were the very last rays of real sunlight being traded in for the soft red light that happens in those few fleeting seconds between sunlight and starlight. Now the beauty of the scene overtook me even more so. The woods, the grass, and most of the sky had already settled into their darkened nighttime appearances. The sands beyond the ridge that was only a few feet from where she continued to execute novels of grace and her very skin had taken on the soft amber tones of dusk. It was a warm season and she wore tactful clothing, but not hiding the smooth texture of her arms and from the knees down. The bare surfaces of her arms and legs shifted with the movements of the muscles beneath. Every so often a new set of tendons would snap into action only to gently form and disappear as they elegantly completed their tasks. I dwelt on this in amazement of the design of the human form for so long that my next sampling of my environment showed a colder surrounding. The reds and amber tones had been replaced with cool blues and the soft white light of a sliver moon.

We both continued on in our tasks without change for long enough that I don’t even remember. She was tireless and I was realizing that I may never get another chance at an experience like this. I’m still unapologetic in my actions. If I had allowed my imagination to wander into the darker regions or intentionally sought out such a thing it may be a different matter. Also, I can’t shake the feeling that she knew I was there in the same way that I believed she could tell I was. There was no indication in how she moved or where she looked or even the tiniest hiccup in her silent cadence, but just a sense beyond our senses. Why she continued if that knowledge was as strong in her as it was in me, I cannot tell you. It was all amazing. Strangely enough, it was me who left first. How long she went on, I will probably never know, but I would see her again. I couldn’t help one last look over my shoulder as the trees closed in on my return path. She performed one of the most elaborate motions I had seen all night and finished with both arms seemingly intertwined vertically as they floated down to reveal her closed eyes and soft pale skin. Then she turned and so did I.

**** (written 5/24/06)

The next evening we were still camped and waiting for the rest of our group to arrive. I'd be lying if I were to say that I didn't consider taking another walk, but decided that maybe the legends may be true. There were always talks of nymphs who lived in the woods on the curiosity of wanderers. Perhaps last night was the bait that was intended to draw me to them again tonight. Regardless, things picked up with our group just before the evening meal. Some of the late comers started to trickle into camp. A few of the young Strong Men, merchants and some refugees rode or walked in to the welcome of many of the campers. Many of these new comers were acquaintances of people in our band or mercenaries who would join our cause. Some of them were common displaced people with nothing left to do but help in our pursuit of the marauders, but there were a few notables among them. Many times these could be quickly recognized by the reactions of the sentries who stood at the camp's perimeter. Each one was unique in the gear they toted along, whether they came in groups, with servants, in pairs or alone.

Many of them were sickly survivors of a similar camp to ours that had come down with an illness. Most of their warriors had died, but there were remnants who still wanted to finish the task of tracking the marauders. Some worried that their sickness was contagious, but no brave nurse had ever been afflicted after helping these people so the council decided that their bravery would be a valued addition to our camp.

I was checking supplies just before we would be called to eat. As I walked out of a row of crates I could see people mixing near the common area waiting for the cooks to give the official invite. I could barely see to the gate where a single buckskin horse and lightly armored rider entered in. The sentries didn't move in the least. This struck me as unusual since they usually talked with the unknowns and showed a welcoming respect to the well knowns. To this rider they didn't salute, take a knee, say a word, or raise their guard. A couple people from the camp headed to the gate as the rider dismounted and looked around to survey the camp. The people who joined her welcomed the newcomer warmly and relieved the horse of some of it's burden. As they walked she finally removed her helmet and shook out some slightly longer than shoulder length wavy hair. Uncommon to me, I grew curious.

I approached the group as they walked towards our storage and stable area. I noticed that I vaguely knew the couple helping her, but when I looked to her I'm sure I slowed down. She made very direct eye contact with me. They didn't burn with anger or show the tears of a refugee; they didn't show the signs of age that some of our group had earned long before their time; they didn't appear to be taking in the camp anymore. They gave the feeling of one who'd seen everything she needed to see in the camp and was searching out the souls of the people. An image of her eyes sticks with me forever. The serpentine colors were broken by black lines and were balanced in every way. They showed a mix of questions and answers, of peace and ambition, of fear and courage, and right now they not through me, but into my thoughts. That is, if anyone else could.

I tried to break away from the situation, but was too far towards them to succeed. My greeting was cordial as always and hers was a regular as any I'd ever experienced. Remove the feeling of her eyes probing me for something deeper and it would have been as unmemorable as the many other greetings I'd done that day that I could not recall for you now. I offered to help and she gently pointed out that most of her equipment was already being cared for. I continued on my way imperceptibly shaking my head as though she was still looking into my mind. I wondered if Stele would be able to tell me who this unnerving addition to our crew was. I doubled back for dinner and hopefully to meet a few more the of the other local add-ins.

****

It took quite awhile to reach the far tables were my traveling companion habitually sat. I'd visited with the some of last few villagers of Chiton. They were a great natured group who had literally wandered into our camp. They were wanderers after their homes were ravaged and they saw our fires out of place on their familiar wilderness. I was informed by some of our regulars that many in their group were disgusted with our presence and our purpose, and had quickly left before even speaking with the guards. The rest of these chaps offered us all the hospitality that they could and went about teaching an ancient game to some of the men. It reminded me of why were were preparing to chase the marauders and why they needed to be ended. Even if these people and their companions couldn't understand yet what had happened to their village.

After more formal introductions to some of the young legends who'd arrived in the late afternoon I finally made my way near Stele's table. I had nearly forgotten my burning question from before until I approached. She still wore her armor and her eyes, and was sitting a quarter way around the table from my partner. Stele was laughing a bit and stood to give a formal introduction for me, even if I carried no title or lands. As usual, he mentioned me as traveling companion and left a silence.

She took the cue and rose beside him, “I'm Shei'el from under the Mountain Skies.”

She offered a firm and practiced hand to shake then sat back down. Stele mentioned that she still used a placeholder in her origin rather than her actual region of birth. She countered with a joke about his own place of origin being similar to her horse's. She seemed so relaxed but always watching each person carefully. She didn't eat much as we sat and passed the next hour, but I couldn't help but notice the precision of her dining movements. The conversation was personal but not deep or revealing. We all talked about life, the troubled lands and what were planned to do when we finished here. Stele and I mused over our many whims while she mentioned a few in cursory. She seemed far more interested in what was next than what came after that.

Stele was just making motions to grab our plates when the guards blew an alarm. The gate where most of the entries were made faced the north and people were either rushing to see what came at the gate or to grab their equipment. I was about to run somewhere when I noticed both Stele and Shei'el were standing still looking slowly between the north and the east where the woods stretched out as a wall. She looked intently toward the trees while Stele had his eyes closed.

He spoke slowly to me first, “Find the captain of the lesser guard to keep his men in reserve to guard the supplies if he wants to eat tomorrow.”

He spoke to the mountain girl next, “Fist and needle you think?”

“It'd help if I knew who we were tracking here, but it would make sense to me. These are especially quiet ones if you are right,” she replied.

I don't know how much more was said, but as I went to find the captain I noticed a few of the others standing next to their tables looking into the wood.

The captain was understanding and said that he would only commit a few of his men to the supplies and hold the rest near the gates. It seemed reasonable to me so I decided to find Stele to give him the result. I jogged by the secondary north gate and could see dust rising on the plain. It was hard to tell if the ground was dusty or if there were a large caravan on the march. The guards did well to set and alarm for this. We couldn't afford to be caught eating if these were pirates, a stampede of pack animals, or even the marauders themselves. Considering our scouts, I doubted the third scenario, but caution wouldn't let me bet the camp on it.

I planned to use the east platform to see out past our fences and equipment, but Stele was just leaving the tower as I rounded a corner quite a ways away. He saw me as well and motioned for me to stay where I was and be ready. I took the initiative of finding a couple of the supply guards and telling them to watch the east particularly well until they are needed to the north, in case whatever my dinner mates were up to had merit. We all settled in to wait in tense silence feeling a slight rumble in the ground from the approaching dust cloud to the north.

Only a minute or two passed before I realized that I'd lost track of everyone except for our people to the north and the two supply guards. Then it happened. A larger Skin Wearer jumped out from above some of the crates toward the south and ran toward an area in the middle of the east side. He seemed to be running for no reason, but just before he reached a small tarp and tent the scene came alive. Darkly clad beings sprinted from the woods and a couple seemingly materialized from the very tent that the Skinner was running towards. Another dark intruder come from behind something and took chase after the Skinner. It didn't make it too far before it hit the dirt, hard. Stele threw off the cloth that concealed him near a supply tent and looked toward the charging line of eight or ten from the trees. He motioned and several others stood from their blinds and started a trot towards the intruder's line who would join their two comrades within seconds.

The enemy line swept towards the camp and the now five defenders (Stele, the Skin Wearer and three others) who trotted towards them. As they passed the perimeter, Shei'el leaped up behind the intruders and ran toward the woods where a another small group of intruders stood. Two of the woodside soldiers broke from their position and ran down the knoll to meet her. They were quick, but awkward because of the hatchets that they carried at a two-handed ready. Shei'el neared them and slowed down. She unexpectedly sidestepped to her right as interceptor on her right swung at her. Her movement was fluid in handling her weight and momentum. She continued to look straight ahead as his axe found only air and her last second slowing gave her enough reach to take advantage of the dark one's back swing energy to relieve him of the weapon on the way by. There were four remaining on the hill ahead of her and she closed the distance quickly.

In camp, the five defenders kept their distance on either side of the line of intruders who were now advancing slowly toward the supplies that I and the two guards had been watching from. The guards gripped and ungripped the hilts of their spears and waited until they had to attack. The intruders were obviously looking for something while also watching the defenders who'd shown themselves. While their clothing hid their faces, I sensed that they were distracted. I could now count that there were nine of them. Their occasional look to the north prompted me to see if we would soon get help from the other guards, but the closeness of the dust and the shear size of the cloud told me that the others were probably watching after their own problems right now. In fact, many of the north-side defenders were making their way outside of our weak boundary to meet the threat on the plain. I pulled out my dagger, regretting that I'd been so busy running messages that I'd neglected to find my own gear.

I looked up just as Shei'el reached the knoll, I cringed as she reached the first guard. She swung way early with her axe and stepped left still running at full gait. At the midpoint of the swing, she smoothly circled her wrist and the shaft of her stolen hatchet met the shaft of the more reserved attack of this enemy. The blades locked together awkwardly and as smooth as thought it were all one motion both weapons sailed from their user's hands. Shei'el's now free hand joined the running motion and then began to flow in another serious of coordinated motions with the rest of her body. As she reached the last guards, she slid beneath their combined attack and passed just near and then beyond the last dark one.

She flowed up and at once, the entire attack ceased. She stood a foot away from the slumping form of her last attacker. The gleam of the little bit of her dagger that had not been buried in his back shone in contrast to his dark leather cloak. For a second, the two nearest guards stopped only to stare at the body, paying no attention to Shei'el as she backed away towards the wood. Then all of the intruders began to quickly and expertly leave the camp with no interference from Stele, Skinner or the other warriors from the camp. A couple of the guards walked slowly toward Shei'el for a short spell then joined their comrades in disappearing into the darkening forest.

****

The dust storm had changed very shortly after the intruders left the eastern side of camp. The large wall of dust became several small columns of smoke and moved away from the camp in slightly differing directions. Our scouts said that most of the tracks had been completely wiped out by our unfriendly visitors dragging something behind themselves the whole way, which explained the large amount of dust – but left us with no clues to their numbers or identity.

Even more perplexing was the lack of the bodies in camp. The one that had tried to pursue the Skin Wearer, whom I later learned was named Thoranix, had disappeared. It took a very skilled tracker to put it all together. The advancing line had left a couple hidden members as they advanced toward the supplies, probably before I counted them to be seven. In the confusion of the retreat, the two concealed ones had lifted their fallen brother in arms and slipped out to the south east. Shei'el confirmed that something similar was done with the one that she had killed.

Others in camp confirmed for me and explained for Shei'el that these thugs and their tactics match the stories of the refugees, many of whom fled to the south as soon as the dust was visible to the north. Stele's hunch was that the large group was a diversion to allow a couple of assassins to slip in to our camp and they perhaps intended to poison the food or water supply. It seemed a little abstract to me, but since that day I've seen countless timess where a large threat was used to conceal a smaller yet far more sinister danger. Shei'el made me chuckle as she finished her part in the discussion by flatly stating her frustration at losing that dagger as though she wasn't bothered at all by the evening's events. It made me wonder what troubles would make a person so pleasantly callous at being nearly hacked or poisoned. I was too tired to ask anyone about her reaction or why the attack stopped as soon as Shei'el's target fell.

****

Days and weeks began to pass. Our camp moved from wilderness to wilderness as we worked to reduce the number of refugees being generated from the villages that were overcome, burned and pillaged by these dark visitors. The numbers that shared our camp swelled and declined with no regular pattern. Some who came to join us with such zeal would eventually leave us. Of these, a few memories of people who did more than just disappear bring me great pain as I remember their confusion and anger. We thought that perhaps there was a viral madness in the camp, but our medics and those charged to investigate had found nothing.

So we continued to move around a large region; staying near the woods and occasionally in them, but always between towns so that we could run quickly if we should see smoke rising from a burning village in any direction.

One night as we squatted near a firepit, a thought struck me and I put my voice to it, “Why are we doing this?”

“I usually sit by the fire to take the edge of of the evening chill,” came the first answer.

Stele chuckled, “I think he's wondering why there are nearly a couple hundred of us camped away from any sort of permanent settlement waiting for smoke or an alarm to grab our gear and chase something none of us really understands.”

“Exactly what I meant to say,” I said, still appreciating the humor of the other's comment.

No one really offered much after that. We all knew that whatever we were chasing was evil and wrong. We all saw how devastated the people were who walked into camp for shelter the night after their homes were burned to cinders. No one doubted the nobility of what we were trying to do; it's just that none of us could catch why it was us or how we planned to be done. I can still remember particularly well the pensive looks of Stele and Shei'el and I doubtless looked the same. After a while of silent consideration we each left the fire to turn into to our tents to wait for morning.

**** (written 5/30/06)

There was a lot of blood, I could see that from where I stood. It was hard to tell if the wound in her belly was as large as it appeared or if she had been laying there for some time and it had soaked her clothing and armor.

I had found a clearing at the far edge of the village between the wooden bins that stored their straw. The fire had taken most of it, but some of it most have been wet because there were piles of dirty looking grass between the smoldering ashes. Ash floated in the air like snow and the smoke was thick all around the village.

We'd been close this time. The town had actually suspected something was wrong and had blamed our camp for the premonition of trouble that they felt. When they came to demand that we move away, we quietly sent a few volunteers to look after them secretly while the rest of our party moved the camp as the townsfolk had requested. Stele had volunteered right away and I came along as always.

“I wondered if Shei'el regretted volunteering for this one,” I thought as I tried to see her laying next to a hay bin through a swirl of lightly colored smoke.

I moved slowly across the clearing because I'd already seen a few of the troublers on my way through the town. They had been quick to leave as soon as they had destroyed enough to meet whatever goal drove them to do these raids. I heard some sword play just after we swept in to try to save whoever we could. Stele told me to try to find the overseer of either the town-watch or the attackers while he checked out he clanging metal.

Moving steadily closer I could see that her eyes were open and she looked around to voicelessly reassure me that she too was watching for my safe approach. When I finally closed the distance, I could see that the pupils in her eyes had gone a bit wide making the deep emerald green streaks hard to see at the edges. Moisture welled up at the corners.

“How bad is it,” I asked trying to sound concerned but not panicked.

“Why, whatever do you mean? About the hay, I don't suppose the horses will have much to eat for awhile,” she replied with the same evasiveness that was often wrapped more tightly around her than the armor that she ritualistically wore.

I slowly rolled my eyes to show my amusement with her ability to stay in character and my disapproval of her timing, “We better look at where that blood is coming from or I fear the life of that pet squirrel that lives in your armor.”

She shook her head at my very poor humor and agreed, “If that's who you're worried about, then we better check it out.”

I was kind of thankful that I hadn't actually made her laugh because it looked like the act of laughter would be too much for her now. We pealed back a bit of the hardened shell she wore over her lower left ribcage. From the ease of getting it open, I assumed that she'd already assessed the damage. After the bloody rag of her undershirt was rolled away, I could see that a rib or two was crushed. That was the best news of my first impression.

“That squirrel's lookin' a might rough in there. Maybe we better get him some breathing room and a new bathrobe, hmm?”

“You came just in time I guess. He had a party in there and I just got done takin' the trash out before you... AH,” she bit off more than a quick exhale as we pealed most of the outer layer of her protection away from that side of her body.”

I was concentrating on trying to cut away the bloodied cloth rather than listen to her metaphor so she seemed to relax and get more direct with her story.

“The little devil was back here makin' sure that everything burned well so I tried to get the drop on him and maybe even keep the body on this one. I dunno if he saw me or if he had a buddy, but when I followed him around the corner, one of the hay cages tipped right into me. I think one of 'em.. OUCH.. pushed it over. I got out without too much for burning, but one of the ends had stuck into me pretty good and broke of when I rushed out from underneath it. It's a good thing they make those out of thin trees around here,” she said as she tried to push herself up into a better sitting position.

I put a hand on her other shoulder, “Stay where you are Jumpy. I'm still checking if we can slow the bleeding enough to move you.”

I was also busy cutting as much as I could from my tunic from places I figured would be as clean as possible to stick in around the wound. It was good that it hit her lower than her heart and hopefully stopped short of anything that wouldn't heal right.

I told her we'd have to wait a minute before I could decide what to do next becaues pulling the cloth away had started the bleeding again. I pushed and dabbed the best that I knew how to do from watching other comrades fall. I pressed away the thought of how poorly some of those turned out.

I worked for a short spell taking care of the wound, and she had kept her eyes closed for most of it. Then she slowly eased her head forward and looked around for any signs of trouble. I have to admit that I'd forgotten that there was no guarantee that we were alone here in my rush to help control the blood. The ash was falling thick now and I occasionally had to lean forward to keep a gust of wind from blowing some of it into her open wound. I was a quietly relieved when she finished looking around and again rested her head back with eyes closed.

“I've been looking for a dancer,” she said quietly.

I was just holding the third set of new cloth to the area and said, in a tone unconsciously mimicking her weariness, “What are you talking about?”

“The other night, around the fire, you asked what we were all doing here. I've been looking for a dancer. I came from a pretty rough place and had learned enough tricks to take care of myself. When I was nearly twenty years old someone found me a place to stay and the owners of the house taught me to dance as a way to pass the time. There was one man in specific that was remarkably amazing. He had taught most of the others who stayed there, but it was said that he wasn't from the area so he would only visit on occasion. It turns out that I was a pretty darn good dancer. Eventually I left, but I've always danced in private since then. I tried to go back to find that man again, but he never kept a schedule and the house had become very full. Someone I met pointed me towards the camp as my best lead to catching up with him again,” she chuckled and I heard a small gurgle inside her chest.

“Careful now, you're not that funny,” I said as I tried to calm her by sweeping her hair back a bit.

Her voice was getting softer, “Don't worry, I just got something down the wrong pipe on that one. I think I'm gonna be ok.”

She opened her eyes to look at me and they were very clear and focused again. She asked, “you didn't think I was such a foolish girl did you?”

It was easy to put on a big honest smile before I answered, “I didn't think about it much at all – but you'd be surprised at how much sense that makes to me.”

I doubt she knew how much her one moment of vulnerability had explained to me. For a moment I felt at peace. I knew the dancer in the wood; I knew the woman under the armor; I understood her art and strength; and most of all I saw my own search from the outside.

We sat in silence for just another couple minutes before Stele found us. He took care of her a bit more as she drifted into sleep and I ran for a couple others to get her moved. There would be more refugees and wanderers tonight and we wanted to get her away from here before the ambers of the burning township of Chiton were the only light by which we would travel.

While I walked away, I paused to look back at her body on the ground, and noticed how real she was under the armor. The ash was beginning to glow within the moving shadows cast by the rising smoke. Another puff of a breeze and both Shei'el and Stele vanished from my view and I began to ease up to my running pace. There was work to be done.

****

During her recovery, Shei'el had some visitors, but kept most of the visits short. On one occasion I told her about the storyteller and Master Callous. I didn't include any of the usual apologies or disclaimers of my foolishness or ignorance of why the story haunted me so much. She didn't say much, except to invite me back a bit more often to talk about her dance or hear what I could remember of the story. For me, those times were like the medicines that the physician was providing for Shei'el's recovery. They were soothing and strengthening.

**** (written 6/19/2006)

The group leader rechecked the cinches on all of the pack animals. The rest of their small party had already shouldered their packs and were obviously getting restless to move out. I had helped them pack, especially Shei'el. She didn't really need a whole lot of help, but it was a chance to spend a little bit more time together before she left. By now, the enemy knew everyone in camp and any of us that ventured out alone for too long was taking a risk. Regardless of her talents, I was very glad that Shei'el would be heading out with what seemed like a good group leader.

Stele stood next to me as they quietly filed away from the camp's perimeter. He had shaken the hands of each of the group and I knew from experience that he had discreetly watched and sized up the leader. Neither of us knew him, but some circles within the camp respected him. I wasn't paying attention to him any more. I watch Shei'el's slender and athletic form move further away. It struck me again how beautiful she moved. She'd improved on her dancing after her injury. She'd even let me watch a time or two, but I always felt a bit shy about taking part in something so personal.

A paw of a hand slapped down onto my right shoulder and I looked to see who's it was. Thor had approached me on the left and now the weight of his immense arm laid across my shoulders. It felt comforting.

Thor deep voice quietly rumbled, “There's still time. You could ask her to stay.”

“I suppose I could tell her something about a new cook in camp to see if that'd influence her,” I replied with a smile.

His deep features and large brow didn't furrow like it often did before he laughed. He spoke again, “Maybe something more on the lines of telling her a moving story or making a bold promise or even riding out there to steal her back was more of what I had in mind.”

Despite the fact that everyone knew that I rarely rode anywhere on an animal, I understood what he was suggesting. I stayed quiet, trying to act as thought I was considering his advice. The truth is, I was; but I couldn't admit that to myself.

Out of character, I heard myself ask, “Do you really think I could convince her?”

Thor finally let out that thunderous laugh that I'd waited for earlier. Then he said, “With all of the women and girls we've had to rescue you from when you get telling stories at a water hole or pub – you really think you couldn't find enough charm make her toes curl?!”

“Those girls aren't like Shei. She's smarter, tougher and knows me too well.”

Stele was still staring straight ahead watching the band get smaller toward the horizon when he spoke, “Is this really about whether or not you could win her into staying?”

The question silenced me, but Thor started to speak.

Stele gently cut him off even when using his soft voice, “How often have I seen you back down from a challenge because of an uncertain outcome? Think of how we met, then ask yourself what's really keeping you here.”

We were quiet and I was thinking hard when I noticed Shei'el turn around. I could barely see her now, but I could almost swear that she focused on Stele for a moment. Her body swung back toward the group as though she were interrupting her own thoughts to keep going.
The thought entered my mind, “Maybe she wouldn't stay for me, but for Stele.” I remembered the times they had shared together. Those times were more serious and tough times for both of them, but they too had a bond.

It bought me a couple extra moments to think when I asked him, “What keeps you standing here? You had hoped that she would stay as much as I did.”

His face stayed forward but his clear gray eyes narrowed and shifted sideways to give me an amused glance. He waited a minute before answering, “Hope and doubt. The hope that she'll find her dancer or more peace than we've known here in camp, and doubt that we will be separated forever. She's remarkable and the three of us have had a habit of meeting in strange places so far, why should I think that we are finished now?”

As I often did, I wish that I could have his clarity and efficiency with words. I had hope too, but mine was a more selfish hope.

Thor reinforced what I was thinking, “I still think it wouldn't hurt any of us if you got out there and made the effort to bring her back. Even if she was good as gone, at least you would know you'd done everything you could and that she knows how strongly you feel about her. Doing things like that help me sleep at night.” Then he gave my shoulder an understanding squeeze before walking back into the camp.

It made me mad that Thor could say that maybe she didn't know how strong my feelings were. After a second thought, I'd always been pretty physically reserved around her. I looked at Stele, hoping for some countering remark, but it never came. He was intently watching her group walk away. He did this often when it was time for a friend to leave camp. It seemed to say to me that he was willing them to do well and not forget their calling or us.

I could join him and move on with my life without taking a step, or I could take the first steps away from camp to try to change two lives forever. I remembered all of the scouts and watchers that our ugly little attackers kept around the camp. Even as fast as I am, a lone run from here to there would make me an easy target and possibly force the leaving party to turn and protect me, placing them at risk.

Stele turned towards me and grabbed my upper arm to give it a squeeze and a pat, “Remember your mission and do what needs to be done.”

Then he turned to follow Thor. I caught a glimpse of the sense of loss in his eyes too, but his was colored with the glimmer of memories and hope all around them.

While I considered Stele's cryptic advice, I watched Shei'el's party become a speck on the horizon. I wanted to be simple like Thor and go after her regardless of the outcome or cost. I wished that I could squash the hope inside me that one day I'd have another chance, but under clearer circumstances.

Perhaps Stele's old advice was needed; that I should 'fight the hard battle of simple patience'. It was a canyon between two turmoils. On the one side is the pain of living with the hope that another chance would come. On the other side is giving up all hope of anything beyond knowing her as I do now. Each seemed impossible to me, so my final question of the day sprang to mind: Could I really hope to see her again, but abandon all chances of joining her in her dance?

I stood much like Stele does and wished that the good King of the storyteller was around to send an escort to guide their group. I must have hallucinated when I thought I saw a glimmer of shining armor riding near the diminishing speck.

Later, as I readied myself for bed, the thought finally occurred to me that maybe I should have volunteered to join their group. Then the weight of my responsibilities in camp pressed my shoulders down again. It would be a couple seasons before that was plausible and I knew it. Maybe then, some sort of new hope will present itself. I curled up on my mat with that idea like a child's doll under my arm and my responsibilities like a thick blanket on top of me. At least Thor was wrong about one thing, that night I slept better than anyone else in camp.