At the first word, she looked back over her shoulder, and broke into a run. Reacting just like a hunting hound, the man remembered only that if the leader discovered the girl had slipped past him, he would be in horrible trouble, and sped after her.
She led him on a path she had already scouted, and to a destination of her own choosing, over the hill and into the valley on the other side. She looked back over her shoulder from time to time, but he wasn't putting on any unexpected bursts of speed.
But that wasn't where she was leading him; Warrl was only her backup. When he was far enough from the camp that no sound he would make could alert the other kidnappers, he learned that it isn't wise to run into unknown territory after even the most tempting of targets.
It was a lesson he would never profit by, however, though perhaps his ghost would be comforted by the fact that his teacher was the famous Need.
While her mother cleaned Need's blade, Jadrie went back in search of another victim, glad that it had been too dark for her to really see the end-game of each stalk. She wasn't-quite-ready for that. Better not to think about it for now.
Better concentrate on narrowing their odds. At some point -- soon -- the odds would be with them. She went back into the scrub and headed for the welcome yellow eye that was the campfire.
As she slipped through the brush, Warrl appeared beside her. She didn't start, perhaps because she had attuned herself so closely to these scrubby woods and her erstwhile partner that she had anticipated him before he actually arrived.
She followed him, as she had done the last two rimes. She suspected that he might be fiddling with the minds of their enemies, too subtly for detection. They certainly were drinking an awful lot of water, with the attendant requirement to go rid themselves of it. And they weren't thinking, either -- or they would have noticed that three of their number had gone out and not come back yet.
But maybe Warrl wasn't doing anything. After being so sick, the men were surely very thirsty. Maybe it was just sheer luck.
Maybe she wasn't going to argue the point.
This time she lured her quarry to Tarma; that was her choice, when she had one. Tarma was only braining the men with a stout log; it was her mother, under the influence of Need, who was wreaking sheer havoc on the hapless enemy. Now Jadrie really understood some of the comments that Tarma had made in the past about the sword, and she was altogether glad that she wasn't going to inherit such a troublesome treasure. Granted, Need's abilities could come in handy, but the idea of an inanimate object that was so downright bloodthirsty made her feel more than a little sick herself.
The man looked up as she deliberately broke a twig, and sighed instead of cursed. 'Little one -- don't run,' he said with weary patience as she looked back at him. 'There is nowhere to go, not even a shepherd hut for leagues and leagues. You are sick, you will die of cold. Come back to the wagon-'
She ran, glancing back. He shook his head and lumbered after her, still calling to her.
'I will catch you sooner or later,' he promised. 'Then I will have to carry you back and lock you in. Do you truly wish to be locked in?'
She was a little ashamed at leading this fellow to an ambush, even if he was an enemy. He seemed to be the only one who was treating her friends with any sort of kindness.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a dull thud and the sound of someone crumpling into the brush and hitting the ground.
'Hated to do that, but better me than Keth,' Tarma whispered. 'At least we know we saved the one decent one. Now go get me another, kitten, you're doing fine.'
* * *
Kira swiftly drew her tiny knife from her boot, and stared at the leader, menacing him as best she could. He looked down at the slender blade in mild surprise.
'Stay away from us,' she told him. 'I don't want to hurt you.'
