Mara jolts awake at the clatter, momentarily disoriented by the sunlight streaming through the leaves and the serene atmosphere. Glancing around dizzily, she sees Kimala and Codi cleaning up from breakfast. When did I fall asleep?

“Sorry!” Codi apologizes in a low voice next to Kimala. He winces as the utensils clash together again.

“They might just hear you if you keep that up,” Kimala grumbles. She notices Mara sitting upright. “See? You woke up Mara.”

Relaxing, Mara takes a better look around. Her head had been on Ace’s coat, but the elf is on the other side of camp with his back to them, sleeping. Rick is leisurely putting up the sleeping mats.

Kimala sits down in front of Mara, beckoning for her hand. “Did you sleep well?”

Mara nods, giving the girl access to the infected limbs. “What about the slavers?”

Rick sets the last sleeping mat off to the side, now packing the clean utensils. “They set up camp and are scouring the woods.”

Codi plops down in front of Mara. “Probably looking for their missing scouts – or their ambushers.”

Kimala finishes Mara’s wrist and immediately checks her shoulder. “It hasn’t moved much, which is good.”

Mara glances at Ace, wondering when he had gone to sleep. She hadn’t even noticed he had moved, and usually that sort of thing wakes her up. Rick notices and says, “The mind-weaver passed out about thirty or so minutes ago. He spent the whole night on watch.”

Mara frowns. “What’s a mind-weaver?”

Codi glances at Ace uneasily. “It’s someone able to manipulate memories and dreams.” He examines her face closely. “You don’t think you know him, right? Because we don’t.”

Mara quickly shakes her head. “Of course not.”

“You were sleeping in his lap,” Kimala points out, one eyebrow raised daintily.

Mara shrugs, but cannot hide the red creeping in around her ears. “I fell asleep next to him.”

Codi glares at Ace’s back. “I think he’s messing with your head, making you like him.”

Overprotective brother, Mara mutters to herself. She doesn’t think of Ace in that way. She glances at Rick, who is strapping on his sword belt and making sure his armor is fastened correctly. “Where are you going?”

“To see where the wagon is. If I am not back by the time the sun peaks, move to the west.”

They nod, watching him leave. Kimala finishes redressing and treating Mara’s infections, patting her cousin’s ankle before ruffling in her satchel. Codi whittles away at a piece of wood with his knife, occupying himself for the time being.

Mara limps over to Ace, leaning against a tree and sinking to the ground. She frowns, staring at his face. She had told Codi she doesn’t know him, but she cannot deny the nagging sense of familiarity. She wonders if he really is messing with her mind.

Ace peers at her with one blue eye, smirking. “Like what you see?”

“Hmph.” Mara watches Kimala pull out clean clothes and tell Codi not to peek as she disappears around a bush to change. “You look familiar. Did you do something to me?”

Ace raises an eyebrow, surprised. “I don’t tamper with my comrades’ memories.” He props himself on an elbow. “I just have one of those faces. It is an annoying coincidence.”

A name hovers just out of reach in Mara’s mind as Ace glances around the camp with a relaxed, almost serene expression. Leaning her head back against the tree, she closes her eyes briefly. She wonders if Kimala will be mad if she does a few t’ai chi patterns.

Rick jogs into the camp, panting. He slings his bag onto his shoulders as he nods to Ace. “They are packing. If we want to catch them, we need to head out now.”

Ace nods and grabs his pack. Codi and Kimala don’t move from their positions, still lounging in the small camp. “Let’s hurry, then. The sooner we free the duir’ne, the sooner we can get to Quasala.”

Mara quickly stands up, snagging her bag off the ground. “I’m coming with you.”

Rick shakes his head. “No. You will stay here with Kimala and Codi and move to the west when the sun reaches its peak.” He nods to Codi. “Do you still feel comfortable with the plan?”

Codi nods confidently. “Yes, sir.”

“Good.” Rick starts through the trees after Ace. “We will meet you by the lake, then. Thana baro.”

Mara grits her teeth. She may not know what the Xharos words mean, but she has a brain and can guess it is some form of ‘see you later.’ She rushes past Kimala and Codi.

Codi’s brows snap together. “Mara, you need to stay – ”

“I’m going with them.” She slips through the trees, easily catching up to the two men. Startled, they whirl around and stare at Mara.

“You need to return to the others,” Rick orders, gesturing behind her.

Mara shakes her head. “You’ll need all the help you can get to save that prince.” She ignores the odd look he gives her at the unfamiliar terminology from Earth. “I know how to fight; I can help.”

Ace sighs in resignation. “I believe the only way we can make her stay is to tie her down,” he mutters.

Mara raises an eyebrow. “Try me.”

Rick steps between them, holding a placating hand up. “You may accompany us, but please understand you need to to keep all your movements to a minimum. Your Hemius – ”

Mara steps around Rick and Ace, continuing along the narrow path through the woods. “Kimala has lectured me enough on it.” She glances over her shoulder. “Are you coming?”

They sigh and start to follow when the other two teens stomp through the forest after Mara. Gritting his teeth, Rick turns to them. “Follow the plan!”

Codi glances at Mara, confused. “But Mara – ”

“She’s coming with us since she won’t listen,” Ace says in a deadpan voice, shrugging.

Kimala crosses her arms, glaring at Mara. “If she’s going, then so am I. Who knows what she will get herself into; plus, I am training to be a field medic.”

Codi rises to his full height of five and a half feet – only an inch taller than Mara. “An extra sword won’t hurt, right?”

Rick slaps his palm against his face as Ace shakes his head. “That failed…” the mind-weaver mumbles, placing a slender hand on his hip.

The small group heads west, following the slavers while carefully avoiding the scouts. The wagon is forced to travel along the path at the base of the gently rolling forested hills while Mara and her companions skirt along the ridgeline.

When the caravan stops for lunch, the seven-foot tav’luk leader with greyish-black skin climbs out of the wagon. Mara cannot help but stare; the man almost looks like he is made of some type of metal, and he has extra joints in his arms and legs.

Munching on some jerky, she watches as some of the slavers carry food into the wagon and then exit empty-handed. She assumes they are feeding the prince. She mulls over how they can get close enough to rescue the duir’ne.

“The time to attack would be during mealtime,” Ace plots, examining the way the slavers collect around the front of the wagon – leaving the back unsupervised except for the two guards standing by the door. “During late evening is best because of the darkness. We should avoid the final night shift.”

Rick nods. “If we go in from the back, we should only have to deal with one or two scouts until we reach the guards.”

“The challenge is, then, getting in and out without someone noticing the dead scouts,” Ace says, grim. He narrows his eyes as the dark-skinned tav’luk climbs into the rear of the caravan and closes the door behind himself.

Mara glances at him, seeing an idea spark in his eyes. What isn’t he telling us? she wonders, frowning.

He gives her a small smile as if saying, Wait and see.

They use the darkness to slip between the trees, nearing the estimated location of the first scout. Mara frowns as she glimpses a flash of purple through the trees. Rubbing her eyes, she wonders if Hemius gives a person hallucinations. She hopes not.

Ace, walking ahead of the others, pauses next to a tree and peers around it. He beckons the others over. “Look,” he whispers, gesturing ahead.

Mara strains her eyes. A man is slumped against a tree, snoring lightly. Not a very reliable scout, she criticizes as they slip around him. However, it does give them a little more time to rescue the duir’ne.

They sneak to the rear of the caravan where two guys play a strange game with the pebbles strewn around. The other slavers laugh around a campfire several yards away, not paying any attention to the enclosed wagon.

“I call the left,” Ace murmurs.

Rick nods. “I shall take the right, then.”

“I can help – ”

Rick shakes his head, cutting off Mara. “We can take care of this. Please stay back for now.”

Ace moves forward. As Rick prepares to navigate to the right, Mara yanks Rick behind her and stalks past him, leaving the guard no choice but to stay by Kimala and Codi. What if a scout had snuck up on those two? Mara grumbles inwardly. They need a real guard to protect them. At least I know how to do this much.

She brushes her fingers over her dagger, contemplating whether or not to use it for this fight. She decides to stick to her familiar methods.

Ace pauses only briefly when he sees that Mara is on the other side and not Rick. He glares at her as they close in on their respective targets. She and Ace strike at the same time, taking out the slavers simultaneously. Mara knocks out her target with one blow as Ace quickly wipes his blade clean and plucks the key off the dead man’s waist.

“You should be with the others,” he hisses, carefully fitting the key into the lock.

She clenches her jaw tightly. “Did you have to kill him?”

Ace glances at her. “He would have alerted the camp.” He quietly unfastens the bolts as Kimala, Codi, and Rick join them.

The door opens onto two anchored chairs and a small table. Deeper in the wagon, two glowing orange-gold reptilian eyes stare out from within a barred section.

A young man looking to be only a year or two older than Mara huddles in a corner of the cell, his skin patterned like scales and glinting at the slightest bit of light. The ember-colored pendant around his neck nearly matches the color of his oily reddish-orange hair. His curved, elongated ears are nearly hidden underneath the limp locks. Filth and mud cake his gold-embroidered flame-red clothes.

A long, scaly golden-edged red tail flicks about in agitation, twining around his pants and thudding against the wood. He stares at them, wary and afraid.

Mara snatches the key from Ace and hops into the wagon before he can stop her, ignoring the painful jolt in her ankle. She holds her hands where the dragon-boy can see them, unable to resist marveling at the scale-like pattern over his skin. Slowly creeping to the door, she explains in a low voice, “We’re here to get you out.”

“Be more respectful, Mara! That’s a dragon duir’ne!” Kimala hisses. Ace hushes her, peeking around the side of the wagon to make sure no one had heard the girl.

The dragon-boy narrows his eyes, the fiery orbs drilling into Mara. “Who are you?” he asks, his voice hoarse and wispy.

Ace climbs into the wagon, padding to the bars as Mara reaches the door of the cell. She unlocks it as Ace quickly whispers, “I apologize, Your Grace, but introductions will have to wait. We need to get you out of here.”

Mara opens the door. He shuffles forward on his hands and knees, taking her outstretched hand. She helps him stand, noticing how he wobbles on his feet.

“Are you injured?” she asks, pulling him out of the cell and allowing him to use her as balance. He smells of cinders and campfires. Ace quickly takes the duir’ne’s other arm to help support him.

He shakes his head as he leans on them heavily. Mara can’t believe how much he weighs; he looks to be around her size but is easily two or even three times heavier than what she had anticipated. “I am not used to a bipedal form,” he articulates oddly, wincing and flexing his jaw. “Especially… this one.”

Mara’s face pales. Again, the odd memory-like sensation of having her bones jammed together and condensed rushes through her senses, causing her to shiver in sympathy.

“We’ll get you somewhere safe,” she promises, surprised at the amount of emotion in her voice at that statement.

Ace and Rick help the dragon duir’ne out of the wagon as Codi offers his arms to Mara so she can break her impact. She winces as her shoulder and wrist twinge.

“Kimala, Mara, take the duir’ne and run into the woods,” Ace instructs.

Mara nods, tucking herself underneath the dragon-boy’s arm again. “Kim, grab the other side,” she grunts, wincing as the Hemius on her shoulder and ankle pull.

“Don’t call me that,” Kimala says half-heartedly, giving Mara a worried glance as she takes the prince’s other arm. “Pardon me, Your Grace.” Her eyes widen as she shoulders some of the weight.

The guard Mara had knocked out stirs. Before they can stop him, he shouts, “Intruders! They’re taking the dragon!”

Rick and Ace stab him at the same time, but it is too late. Ace spins in a tight circle, one of his hands gripping the hair on top of his head. Mara stares, suddenly certain she had seen someone else do the exact same thing once.

“Get out of here!” he hisses at Mara and Kimala as footsteps rapidly approach.