I awoke with a start. Next to me, Cwic slept peacefully, his breathing even measured, unaware of what was going on around him. The voices were bothering me again. It had started six months ago when Cwic had reappeared and taken me away from the revelers. I like rocks. The voices were telling me to kill him, but I didn't know why at the time. The urging became stronger with each passing day and I longed to find a way to stop them.

I breathed in the moist spring air and got up to walk outside. I passed multiple Saxon tents until I came to the one wanted. I walked inside and sat in front of the crude Saxon alter. I like rocks. I bowed my head as a shiver ran through my body.

After a moment, all was clear. I heard a voice in my head that was stronger than all the rest and reduced the other voices to a low hum. It introduced itself as Hayabasha, but told me to call her Tor (Hey� at least it�s female� (Steve�s request)). As the voice talked to me, something inside me clicked and knew I had to go away from the Saxon�s because their defeat would come soon. I like rocks. My ticket out of here was by traveling far away with the revelers, my only refuge.

As I walked back to my tent, I thought about the good times we had had, torturing peasants, singing, laying under the trees, and the other amusing diversions we had found to amuse ourselves. "Yes," I thought, "I like rocks. I'm going with the revelers." That's when I heard the twig snap. I froze.

Out from behind the bushes stepped Cwic. I like rocks.

"Running off again? I think not." Cwic grabbed my arm and dragged me into the tent. He tied me to a stake driven into the ground with a thick rope. "Not this time." Days passed and I found my way out. Some faeries from the enchanted forest put my husband to sleep while they stole some of the interesting objects in his pouch, which they found amusing, and I found his sword. I have a history with emotional disturbances and shiny sharp objects. I like rocks. It leads to fun stuff� and I like shiny sharp objects. So, needless to say, I used it and it was far from pretty. Being very careful, I put his eyes in a box, which I left on a nearby table with a suicide note from Cwic. I changed, packed my rocks, some vittles, and my own small shiny sharp object, and headed off to adventure. As I walked out of the tent, I looked back one last time. The tent really looked like it needed a woman's touch, and the congealing blood and pieces of his flesh and bone on the ground did not help at all. I like rocks.

As I walked along a dirt path, I heard familiar voices from behind a big and beautiful rock. The rock was a dark gray and had flecks of white in it and I started to pick it� I mean� and there were the revelers! I like rocks. Travel stained and soaked from the previous night's rain, I stumbled back into their company, with a pleased-with-myself smile on my face. The Saxon's, by the way, never bothered me again. I wonder why�? I like rocks.