We didn't reach the Baron pac that night, despite a valiant effort on both our parts. Our progress was slow, with Tuck leaning on me for support and correcting me whenever I veered off course. The sun was just beginning to set when he sort of slipped off my shoulder and fell to the ground.

"I'm sorry, Bryt. I'm sorry�" he breathed.

"It's okay, it's okay," I reassured him, sitting down and stroking his hair, seized with a maternal instinct that surprised me, since few women actually raise children on Skye. "This looks like a good place to spend the night anyway."

"No, it's not," Tuck mumbled, but didn't protest further. His head felt hot to the touch. I wondered for how long he'd been like this, struggling to walk through Baron ground, collapsing whenever he ran out of strength and had to find a place to hide, futilely hoping for a miracle. A hope that turned out to be not so futile.

He was right, though; this was a terrible place to fall asleep. He seemed to have picked the one spot in the forest where there was a clearing. If it were Col ground I wouldn't have worried, but since this was Baron territory I half dragged my teammate to the edge of the clearing, made him drink from my flask, and then finally let him sleep. I lay on the ground awake for a long time, not really fearful of being discovered but unable to sleep simply because I'd awakened so late in the day. My back still burned, too.

We both woke early the next morning and got started as soon as possible. It was very slow going, though. By midafternoon, Tuck was basically asleep, though he was still walking, which not only made it very difficult for me to pull us along but also led me to fear we'd end up completely lost. I grew increasingly distressed the more he deliriously called Seile's name. I was nearly as tired as he was by the time we finally reached the pac that night. I would have been relieved, but our problems weren't over.

As we approached the pac, a guard came up to us. That wasn't a good sign � not even the War-Pac had guards. I turned to see what Tuck thought, but his eyes were closed. He was asleep on my shoulder.

"Who are you? What is your business here?" the guard asked, sounding menacing.

"We need help," I told him. "Is there a medic here?"

The man looked puzzled. "Are you Pirates?"

"No, we're missioneers." I heard the desperate note in my voice. "Please, will you let us in?"

"Wait here," the guard said, and left. Great, I thought. I sat down on the ground, removing Tuck's arm from my neck, and releasing the pressure that had been building across my shoulders all day. Spike rolled around and chirped quizzically, confused as to why we'd stopped. She ran into Tuck several times, trying to wake him up, and looked very troubled when she couldn't succeed. I would have smiled if I hadn't been so tired myself.

Distracted by the puffan's antics, I didn't even notice that the guard had returned with another man until they were right in front of me. I hastily stood to face them.

"What seems to be the problem here?" the second man asked, in a tone much more friendly than the guard's had been.

"We need help," I repeated. "Please, this man is wounded and sick, and needs medical attention or he'll die."

"You're Pirates, aren't you?" the man sounded wary.

"No!" I cried. "I mean, I don't think so. What's a 'Pirate'?"

Then man seemed to think this over for a minute.

"Please," I begged when he didn't answer, "I know you probably dislike all our kind, but if you're truly working for peace, then please help save a life here."

"It doesn't matter," the man finally said. He turned to the guard and repeated, "It doesn't matter. If this pair needs help, we'll try to help them. That is our purpose. Can you carry the man to the infirmary?"

The big guard nodded, reached down to lift Tuck, and hefted him over his shoulder like a piece of equipment. Spike squealed in protest, so I picked her up and quickly soothed her, before she could morph and set the whole pac against us.

"He's, uh, well trained, isn't he?" the second man asked, gesturing to the puffan in my arms.

"Actually, it's she," I explained. "But yes, she's well trained. She only changes to eat."

"That's a relief." He sounded amused. "My name's Kestral. I�m second to the governor of this pac."

"I'm Bryt," I told him as we followed the guard. "My teammate's Tuck, and this is Spike."

"Interesting choice of name."

"I agree."

It was a very small pac, with only four main buildings and some houses, built much more nicely than the huts in the War-Pac, though. We arrived at the infirmary and the guard laid Tuck down on one of the beds. There were two other patients in the same large room. I wished my teammate would wake up. Not only was I worried about him; I didn't like being alone among a whole pac of Barons. Sure, this was an actual pac, an actual peace-attempt clean, but if two Barons ever walked into the War-Pac for help they'd probably be killed in an instant. Or some soldiers would be brought in to kill them, I thought grimly. But, though I'd certainly grown more independent since beginning Pathic Training, I wasn't comfortable with the situation in which I'd found myself.

"We only have one person with medical training here," Kestral was saying. "And she's pretty young and inexperienced." He shrugged. "You can't choose your pac members. I'll try to locate her, though." He beckoned for the guard to follow him out.

As if reading my mind, Tuck stirred as soon as they'd shut the door. He looked around in confusion, taking in his surroundings.

"We're not dead yet," I said encouragingly.

"Are we at the pac?" he asked.

"Yes." I nodded. "You're in the infirmary." I knelt down beside the bed so that no one else in the room could hear what I was saying. The place made me pretty paranoid. "Tuck, what's a 'Pirate'?" I asked.

"A what?"

"They said we were Pirates," I explained. "What's that mean?"

"Oh, it's their word for Cols. They don't call themselves 'Barons' either � their word is 'Allies'."

"So they definitely know we're the enemy," I concluded.

"That's okay. We expected it."

"Seems we've had an awful lot of good luck lately."

"Well, don't complain about it!"

The door opened and Kestral reentered with a young woman who barely looked older than me. "This is Felita, our medic." He presented her. "Felita, Bryt and Tuck. Why don't we leave now so the medic can examine the patient?"

I'd much rather have stayed, but it would have seemed rude after that, so I followed the pac's second-in-command out of the infirmary, bringing Spike with me.

"I know you'd probably rather stay with your partner," Kestral explained understandingly, "but I think it's better not to put any unnecessary pressure on our young medic. Now, don't get nervous. Felita's a good, fully qualified medic. She's just young and not too confident. She's been great for the brief life of our pac, and I'm sure she'll cure your friend. You look like you could also do with a warm bed, if you don't mind my saying so. If you want, you can sleep in the infirmary, too. Have you been traveling long to get here?"

"All day," I nodded. "We weren't that far away, actually; it was just slow going."

"I can appreciate that. What did happen to Tuck, if you don't mind my asking?"

I shrugged. "There's a war going on." I hoped that would suffice, because I certainly wasn't about to tell Kestral about the explosive powder.

"I guess that's true. You want me to show you around while we're waiting? Judging by the way your friend looked, I'd say we'll be out here for a while."

"Don't you have things to do?" I asked. "Being the governor's second and all? I hate to take up so much of your time."

Kestral grinned. "Not much actually happens here. I doubt any pressing emergencies will surface in the next half-hour. Besides, it's not a very big pac."

"Well, okay. Thank you, then."

The tour of the pac honestly took about five minutes. It was much smaller than the War-Pac. I felt a little guilty since these Barons were treating us so well, knowing our own pac members wouldn't be nearly so kind. But the War-Pac is an exception, I told myself. I just hadn't been to any other Colossan pacs.

I had to ask Kestral about, it, though. "How come you're being so nice to us?" I asked bluntly. "We are Cols and you are Barons. Normally that would mean we'd have to kill each other."

"I'm through with killing Pirates. 'Cols,' as you call yourselves." His large brown eyes bore a troubled expression for the first time since I'd met him. "Our government requires us to fight in the military for at least ten years. I've done my time. I regret to say that most members of this newly formed pac have not, but it wasn't until most of my friends had been killed that I realized how ridiculous this whole war is. And it is, you know." He looked at me pointedly and I looked carefully at the ground. "Anyway, as soon as I finished my service I joined up with some others who felt the same way, and we crossed the river to separate ourselves from the military once and for all. It's not really much of a rebellion we've got going here � " he nodded to indicate the tiny settlement " � but at least we're proving we can live without winning the war. Not many seem to realize that."

I stared at him thoughtfully, my empathic skills once again proving useful. "I really appreciate everything you've done for us," I began, "but you're not going to convert me to your style of thinking."

"Give me a few days."

I blinked. The reply was so unexpected that it took me a second to realize he was teasing. "Well, at least you're honest," I said.

"Another trait few exhibit."

I looked up at him sharply, catching the subtle implication inherent in his tone. "That's true," my mouth said noncommittally, while I tried every trick of empathy I knew, but came up short. My eyes were rapidly and thoroughly studying his face, but it hadn't deviated enough from his clean slate for me to reach a positive conclusion. After about five seconds I gave up, hoping he knew no more than he was letting on that he did, but still found myself staring up at him. He had a very handsome face, I noted, with strong but regular features and a tan despite the cool northern climate. His hair was light brown and of medium length. He looked fairly nondescript, actually, but handsome just the same. He had that slim, muscular fighter's build that I'd always liked�I quickly looked away and ended this train of thought. He was a Baron. A reluctant Baron, but a Baron nonetheless, and that was that. But somehow instead of being disgusted at the blasphemy of my thoughts, I found myself amused.

"You know what's strange?" he said, once he'd realized there were no hidden truths I was going to unveil to him. "When we began this pac, I thought it would be a sort of paradise. I guess any place with no battle is a paradise to an ex-soldier. But when we got here, it wasn't that at all."

"What was it?" I heard myself ask.

"Well, first of all," he explained, "I thought I'd be among people like myself, who agreed that war is wrong and wanted to protest it. But most of the people we attracted did want to win the war, and hated all Pirates with a passion, and just didn't want to risk their lives for our cause. I felt dishonorable or hypocritical allowing them to come with us, but we needed some members in our pac, or we'd never last long. So we accepted anyone who volunteered to join us. Then the real disasters struck." He took a breath. "We couldn't build well, and a storm blew down everything we'd put up. Most of our crops failed the first year, since we didn't really know how to farm, either. A lot of members left, saying fighting the war would be easier than living here. Including the one man with real medical skills. Thank goodness Felita stayed it out, or our pac may have collapsed right there. But we've built ourselves up, slowly but surely since then, and we've got a pretty stable community now. And learned a lot in the process. Proves that hard work will get you to your goal, if you keep at it."

"So you consider this pac a successful project?" I asked, careful to keep my voice neutral.

His voice was soft as he said, "It's more than a project, Bryt, it's my life now. These past three years we've been so dedicated, we've made ourselves succeed."

"I guess it's more than I've accomplished in life," I admitted, mostly to please him. As if I'd ever think of joining a pac! Much less starting one!

"Starting to warm up to me already?" he teased.

"Not so fast."

He laughed. "Well, I guess that's fair. It's only been one night. I think we've waited out here long enough. Would you like me to escort you back to the infirmary for the night?" He formally held out his arm, keeping a straight face.

I had to turn my head and laugh, but I took his hand and walked with him the four steps to the door of the building.

"Well, here we are," he announced.

"Thanks, Kestral," I said seriously.

"For the escort?"

"No!" I looked away from his teasing grin but felt my cheeks grow hot anyway. I was glad it was too dark for him to see me blush. "For taking us in and helping us. For that matter, thanks just for not killing us."

"No problem." Kestral nodded. "I told you, I'm done with killing."

On that note, I stepped into the infirmary and he turned and left. I walked down the dimly lit hallway to the room to which the guard had led us before, Spike right on my heels the whole time. I was quiet so as not to wake any of the patients. Tuck was sleeping peacefully, his wounds cleaned and bandaged and some probably stitched. I didn't know nearly enough about doctoring to be critical, but it looked to me like the novice medic had done all right. Felling reassured and strangely optimistic, I took one of the empty cots and immediately fell asleep.