See Prologue (A) for Disclaimers

Dar stared at him.  Behind him, Sharak could see Tao looking equally shocked.  Dar struggled with words, and finally managed, "What are you talking about?"

Sharak chuckled weakly.  His thoughts were coming more easily now, as if his body had decided to heal his head injuries first and leave the rest to themselves.  If that was the case, then not all of the curse had been lifted -- his immortality had always healed damage in that way before.  The smile that stretched his mouth resembled a wince this time.  "I told you that there were many things I had not told you, many things I would almost have rather forgotten, let alone share."

Dar's eyes widened as he recognized the words from their conversation those many weeks past.  "You . . . were a man?  The sorcerer who cursed you put you in eagle shape as well?"

Sharak sighed.  "Not quite.  I was -- am -- a shapeshifter.  The curse trapped me in my altered form."  He tried to sit up and cried out in pain as the movement shifted his broken ribs.  He felt the pain as if it were in every part of his body.

Hands settled on his shoulders, gently settling him back against the ground, something reasonably soft under his head for a cushion.  He let them do as they would, fighting the pain for dominance in his own mind.  When he opened his mind again, he found that Tao and Miren had moved off a short distance, giving some privacy to Dar, who knelt beside him.  The young BeastMaster's eyes were dark with worry, confusion, and some anger.  Sharak hoped that meant he believed him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked quietly.

Sharak sighed.  "As I said--"

"But that doesn't tell me why.  You told me about your immortality, about the years of wandering, alone . . .  You told me . . ."  Dar shook his head.  "But not this part.  Curupira -- she called you shapeshifter.  She knew, didn't she?  So why did you never tell me, Sharak?"

Sharak sighed again, reflecting distantly that it felt rather good to be able to make this sound again.  "Because . . . it hurt."  He considered his words; definitely much easier now, the headache was almost gone.  "I had family once, BeastMaster, and friends, as you did.  I knew the joys of man and eagle.  And then suddenly all those things were . . . gone.  I still had the comfort of the skies, but suddenly it was no longer freedom."

He looked away, overwhelmed suddenly by saying all of this aloud, as he had been unable and unwilling to do for so long.  After a moment, he continued.  "I shared with you the burden of loneliness, of losing those we cared for.  But this . . . this was too much to share.  With you, with anyone.  I did not even wish to remember it, most times.  And if I had told you -- even if I had managed to forget, you would not have.  You would have borne my grief as well as your own.  I could not do that to you.  To anyone."

When he looked back at the BeastMaster, Dar's eyes showed sorrow and sympathy.  He was silent, though, and shook his head.  "We will speak more on this, later," he said finally.

Sharak smiled softly.  "I would expect no less from you, young one."

Dar smiled back, recognizing the tone and words Sharak used so often in conversation with him.  "Any more secrets I should know about?"

Sharak chuckled.  "Later," he reminded him.  "We should keep moving.  We need to find Ricenne."

Dar frowned.  "She is the Witch?"

Sharak nodded.  "And probably responsible for the magick that nullified the curse keeping me in eagle form."  He smiled and added dryly, "Though thankfully not my immortality."

Dar smiled in wry agreement.  "We'll wait a while, for your other injuries to heal."

Sharak sighed.  "They won't.  At least, not faster than they would normally.  But I can make it.  Slowly, I grant you, but . . ."

Dar chuckled.  "And you called  me stubborn."

Sharak's injuries prevented him from walking, so a travois was fashioned out of branches, the blanket wrapped about him to protect his skin from wood and air.  However, dragging it as they had Milina's travois would have caused him agony with every jolt, so Tao and Dar would each carry an end of the makeshift stretcher.

(To Miren's undying amusement, it was Dar and Tao who were uncomfortable seeing Sharak naked.  Although she had to admit their discomfort might have been helped along by her comment, when Dar confirmed that this man was indeed the eagle, of "Not bad for a bird."  She still wasn't sure whose blush had been the brightest.)

They had been walking for close to an hour on their original route when Ruh sent a wordless message to the BeastMaster.

Trees.  Foliage screening figures that move agilely.  Following the path of the four humans, closing in slowly.  Scent: strange, unknown, a combination of human and animal and other.

Dar, who had noted the shadows himself, sent back a "nod" of agreement.  Miren, walking at Sharak's side, noticed the flicker of Dar's eyes.  She quickened her pace enough to place herself beside the BeastMaster.  "What is it?" she asked.

"We're being followed."

Tao, hearing the question, frowned as he also heard the answer.  "Followed?" he repeated, though he kept his voice low.  "By whom?"

Dar glanced over his shoulder at his friend.  "The Hidden Folk," he said humorlessly.  He sent a message to Ruh, who circled back to them, golden eyes watchful.  Dar set down his end of the travois carefully.  "Stay here.  I'm going to scout ahead."

Translation, Tao thought with a grim inward smile, "I'm going to find out who or what is following us, and if it's a threat."

They settled down to wait as Dar set off in a casual lope that covered more ground than one would have thought.  Ruh eyed Sharak with curiosity, coming close enough to snuffle at the unfamiliar form with a slightly familiar scent.  Sharak chuckled slightly, meeting his friend's eyes and guessing the thoughts there.  "You won't let me live this down either, will you?"

Ruh blinked slowly, then let out a half-sneeze that seemed uncannily like a human laugh.  The translation, Sharak and the two mortals guessed, was quite likely along the lines of  Not bloody likely.

~*~*~*~

The forest was strangely silent, placing a tingle between Dar's shoulder-blades as he hunted whoever had been shadowing them.  Eleni had been certain that the denizens of the forest were no threat unless directly threatened, but he wasn't about to take any chances.  Sharak's transformation and the revelation of such a secret had shaken Dar more deeply than he wanted to admit even to himself -- he was consequently not in the best of moods at the moment.

A feeling of watching eyes grew abruptly as Dar passed a tree.  He kept walking, listening for the tell-tale movement, and caught it.  He slipped behind another tree and circled back to the one he had passed.  He watched, as silent as the air, and was finally rewarded by a slender figure climbing down from one of the lower branches.  Dar waited, waited, willing his breathing to slow, willing his blood to calm . . . then he reached out as the figure came into range.  His hand clamped around a slender arm, not letting go even as the figure turned, sun-gold eyes flashing with surprise, anger, and some fear.  His quarry struggled, aiming a kick that caught him in the ribs -- but not unawares.

Dar growled low in his throat and moved in the direction of the kick, keeping hold of the arm and grabbing the other as his quarry swung at him.  His grip firm on both arms, he backed the attacker into the tree behind them, and demanded "Who are you?  What do you want with us?" before the information reached his brain that the figure he held was a lithe young woman barely older than Curupira in appearance.

Those startling yellow eyes were framed under thick black brows, and set in a pretty, sharp-chinned face that was clearly human.  Her skin was lightly tanned, long black hair framed her face in spiky bangs and was woven into a single braid that hung past her shoulders.  Her clothing was handmade but not unskilled: leather pants, not dyed, and a simple woven top that was tied in front, baring her navel.  A short-length necklace of polished black stones and a single, sharp animal tooth rested against her slender throat.

Dar blinked in surprise, but didn't back off when she glared at him.  "What d' ye want with th' Wood?" she asked in return, her voice as young as her features.  Her tone was challenging, the syllables gliding in an unfamiliar accent.

Dar forced himself to release his tension and anger, forced himself to remember Eleni's words.  He released the girl's arms and took a slow step back.  "We mean no harm to the Wood or any within it," he told her.  "We've come seeking sanctuary for the woman who travels with us."

The girl's eyes narrowed as she carefully, slowly, looked him over.  No weapons except for the staff, broken in halves and stored in the odd harness at his back.  It was not a hunter's weapon.   "She wishes t' birth her babe here?" she asked, not quite believing.

"We were told it was the safest place.  The people she has run from will never know to look here."

She tilted her head to regard him, weighing his words against her caution.  "An' how did ye hear o' the Wood?"

"A friend," Dar told her.  He sensed that he was gaining her trust.  "He knows the Witch, Ricenne."

The girl's brows snapped into a frown.  "No one knows the Witch's name.  She never speaks it, and no one is old enough to even remember when she came to the Wood."

"He is," Dar said, smiling.  "Sharak is immortal.  Unfortunately, he's also been hurt--"

"This Sharak -- he's th' one ye carry?"

Dar nodded.  "The curse that kept him in eagle form was broken when we entered the forest.  He, ah, fell."  He couldn't help feeling a bit embarrassed for his friend's sake.

The girl's eyebrows rose.  She seemed to consider asking something else, then stopped and shook her head.  She seemed to have come to a decision.  "Continue on th' path ye're on.  Ye'll come t' th' heart o' th' Wood soon.  Ye'll be received there."

She started to move way.

"Received?" Dar asked.  "By whom?"

She looked over her shoulder, but kept walking.  "By me.  By us."  She smiled.  "By th' Witch."  She turned and walked backward, facing him, for a moment.  "Ye'd best be tellin' th' truth, pretty one.  I'd hate t' have t' hurt ye."  She grinned abruptly.  "Well . . . except perhaps in play."

She laughed as Dar stared at her, color rising to his face.  Then she turned again and disappeared between the dense trees.  Dar shook his head, trying to remind himself that from what he could see she  was just a teenager, if one with a wicked streak.   Sharak, what have  you gotten us into?

~*~*~*~

"He says th' wounded one is a friend of th' Witch.  Knows her name."

Four people stood in the large, sunlit room.  The tallest man frowned, strong black brows drawing down over clear blue eyes.  "No one knows her name," Ordan said automatically.  "No one is old enough."

Pasha grinned at him, enjoying this new little mystery.  "He says th' wounded one is immortal," the yellow-eyed girl added.

That brought little more than a "huh" from the three adults.  "Could it be the truth, Rhianna?" Ordan asked the person who stood across from him.

The blonde woman frowned delicately, her gaze fixed out the window.  "Anything is possible," she admitted.

"But there is no guarantee that that truth means they don't mean  us harm," the second man put in.  Affér's hair was black like that of his daughter, and his slightly pointed chin matched hers, but his eyes were brown.

Rhianna looked at him.  "No, there is not."  Her gaze turned to the girl.  "Take them to the Witch.  If nothing else, she can heal the wounded man's injuries."

Pasha nodded and turned to go.  "Leave it t' me."

"No games, daughter," Affér told her firmly.

"No games," the girl agreed.  She looked somber for a moment, then her natural energy took over and she grinned.

As she bounded from the sunlit room, Ordan asked dryly, "Why does that promise offer me no comfort?"

Rhianna laughed lightly.  "Because you've known her for too long, Ordan."

Ordan smiled.  "A day-old babe's known her for too long."

Affér chuckled over their quite correct opinions of his only child, then his eyes grew somber again.  "What do ye think o' this?  We have not had newcomers for over a year."

"If they are lying, the Elneseyrna will know," Rhianna said with confidence.

Ordan nodded.  His handsome features darkened slightly and he added quietly, "And she will deal with them appropriately."

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