[Amanaduial the archer]

As his hand closed over hers, Fionel decided in that instant that she would take the necklace, wouldn’t dream of refusing. Tenzin’s earnest brown eyes held hers for a moment more then his hand dropped, letting the horse fall to Fionel's chest.

"When the battle is done, return it to me then, if you wish." He said with a wan smile. Fionel smiled at him, about to question him, then Rhunnaro called to her, hurrying her into position. She scurried away obligingly, but not completely sedately- as she moved she had seen the sword which she had had earlier lying on top of the sack. Sending a glance at Rhunnaro to check he was occupied, she darted across and took the sword. Perhaps this time she would get to use it. A sudden flicker of fear and excitement ran down her spine, making her shiver, and it was, she had to admit, more excitement. As she ducked into the shadows beneath a tree, with Santiara but a few metres away, Fionel saw the other, clutching the unfamiliar spear desperately, move her lips as she stared up to the sky. Fionel did not try to decipher her words, leaving her alone to her moment of privacy. She had never really believed in the Valar, in this life as a slave or her previous one, but was there something up there to pray to? Was there someone that might look on them and help them?

Maybe better to trust the moment. Fionel glanced across at where Tenzin half-crouched, behind a rocky rise, bow in his now steady hands and a look of steely determination on his face, despite the sweat which still beaded his brow. He caught her looking, but Fionel did not look away immediately, but smiled briefly at him before turning back to watch the place beyond where Turos waited, a lone, bent figure. She fingered the little horse around her neck, turning it over between the slim fingers of her left hand.

For luck.

Better to trust the moment.

The sounds of the hunters floated towards them. They had evidently been closer than Fionel had thought, or than Rhunnaro had expected, but Tenzin must have given them a new want to follow, and quickly. The sounds of the horses hooves made the air quiver and the ground beneath Fionel soon seemed to shake. She could feel the beat beneath her, the beat that the slaves who heard of the hunt said was the very beat of death in this instance. Calls between them, jeering, mocking voices split the previously calm and peaceful air, and Fionel, glancing across, saw Beruthiel's lips still moving, faster now. Fionel looked across to Turos where he sat, her mouth dry and her hands shaking, but the man just waited, like a man awaiting an execution, a sort of resigned, sad, quietness in his eyes. Fionel raised the horse to her suddenly dry lips and kissed it- why, she was not sure, but in some way, it made her feel better.

For luck.

She was going to need it, it would seem. This plan...how could this work? Trained fighters, with horses, who hadn't walked all day, who weren't scared but intoxicated instead with the thrill of the Hunt. How could Rhunnaro have possibly thought it would work? For a moment, Fionel wondered, in an abstract way, how far she would get if she ran now. But she would never abandon those who had become her companions. Her faith in Rhunnaro held.

"Woah...well would you look at that. 'Tis our lucky day, Shivana, a second to take, and so soon afterwards." Ekatran's mocking voice made Fionel's skin crawl, even after all this time. She pressed herself closer to the earth hoping fervently that they couldn't see her, although she knew that his soul searching, piercing eyes would already be searching the clearing for anyone else. A laugh, an arrogant, cruel laugh followed his words as Shivana too took in Turos and his lonesomeness. Fionel heard the soft thump of her leather boots on the ground as she dismounted, and walked forward.

Try as she might, a kind of morbid fascination drew Fionel's eyes towards the spot where Turos was still. She had to see. In years to come, if they got through thi- when they got through this, she fiercely corrected herself, she would tell others of this, of what happened before the might easterling leader Ekatran was brought low by a band of ragged slaves.

Shivana leant down towards Turos, who tried to get up, tried to shuffle away, his eyes fixed on Shivana. Fear was in his voice when he spoke, but whether genuine or fake Fionel could not tell. "They left me. I have no alliegance to them, no, none. I-I will h-help you!" His voice quivered, and now Fionel could tell that it was indeed fake, the fear in his voice, but Shivana, in her state of mad blood lust, would not notice. Turos' eyes never once flickered back to where the others waited, never once gave any indication his story was true, never once let on that his companions were mere metres behind him. His courage was incredible.

Once again, that cruel, mocking laugh, then others joining it, and the thump of more boots on the sand. Fionel's grip on her sword became tighter. Everything seemed so sharp and clear now, so brilliantly cut against the earth and sky.

"This is it. We cannot keep running."

"You, help us? I can kill you now, any one of us could, alone." Shivana breathed in deeply. "I have already tasted blood this day. I would be glad to satisfy my hunger further."

Fionel turned to Tenzin, whose eyes were on Rhunnaro, while Santiara watched her. The signal would come in a chain, as fast as lightening. Where he stood, Fionel saw Tenzin ready the bow, although his hand on the hold left his fingers free to give the signal. Rhunnaro must have nodded to him, for his looked back at Fionel, who half nodded to Santiara to ready herself, who in turn nodded at Haven and so on. One finger stretched out....

"Please...I can help you?"

A second...

"I grow tired of your pathetic, weak words, slave." The sound of a blade being drawn.

The last finger shot out quickly, and half a milimoment later an arrow embedded itself close to Shivana's feet. Tenzin swore under his breath- his arms weren't entirely steady yet. But the Hunters had frozen into a still tableau, staring at the arrow, Shivana still holding her sword aloft. That was enough. In that moment, Fionel rallied every nerve in her body, every inch of strength and more than she possessed, and with a cry, she charged out, wielding her sword. She didn't think, just headed straight towards Shivana, sword held aloft...

[ June 14, 2003: Message edited by: Amanaduial the archer ]