was! She could think of solutions to some of their problems! Maybe she couldn't make a boat speed down the river at a breakneck pace, but she could keep Lorryn from catching cold and maybe getting so sick, he wouldn't be able to move! Elves didn't get ill, at least not very often, but humans did all the time, so Lorryn probably would.
She held a bit of bread in her hand and nibbled it slowly. This was slave-bread, heavy and dark, and not the white bread eaten by the masters. Myre had said that was all to the good; she claimed that the slave-bread would make better field rations, that it was more nourishing, and that it would fill the stomach better. Maybe she was right; it certainly hadn't taken much of it to satisfy the ache in Rena's stomach, and she was finishing the piece Lorryn had broken off for her more out of sense of duty than out of hunger.
The thought of her former slave made her wince with guilt. Oh, Ancestors. Poor Myre. I hope they didn't catch her. I hope if they did, she has the wit to claim we coerced her into following him. Surely Myre, so clever, so resourceful, could come up with a way to explain herself! Hadn't she gotten herself out of every other predicament?
And surely, with two renegades to chase, her father's men would never bother with a mere slave… surely, surely…
Lorryn opened his eyes. 'I can't find anything out here except a pair of alicorns,' he said, finally. 'They're young ones, so they shouldn't give us any trouble as long as we stay downwind of them.'
'Alicorns?' she replied, her spirit shrinking a little again, despite her earlier burst of confidence. The stories she'd heard about how fierce the one-horned creatures were had given her nightmares, and the little tableau in the Portal-room in Lord Lyon's manor had only reinforced those stories. 'Aren't they supposed to be able to pick up the least little bit of scent?'
'But they're downwind of us,' he assured her, and yawned hugely. 'And I—'
He yawned again, and Rena saw with concern how exhausted and strained he looked. Had he slept any more than she had? Probably not.
Probably not for days.
'Lorryn, we're safe enough here for the moment, aren't we?' she asked, and at his cautious nod, continued. 'Well, why don't you rest? You did all that magic—then we've been walking for leagues.'
He looked as if he would have liked to object, but a third yawn overcame him. 'I can't argue. We're warm and dry, and there's no place better to shelter than what we've got at the moment.'
'So rest,' she urged. 'I can watch for trouble. I'll wake you at the least little hint of it'
'I'll just lean back and relax for a little,' he said, putting his pack behind him and suiting his actions to his words. 'I won't sleep, I'll just rest a little.'
He closed his eyes, and as Rena had suspected, in a moment he was sound asleep.
She smiled, and shook her head. How could he have thought he could go on without a rest?
Well, it doesn't matter. He's getting one now.
She looked over their primitive shelter and took a mental inventory of the materials at hand. If he slept right up until nightfall, could she improvise a better shelter out of sticks and leaves? She'd done things with flowers before—why not with leaves?
Experimentally, she took a leaf and sculpted it, retaining its water-resistant qualities while she spun it out into something a bit flatter and bigger. She took a second leaf, did the same, then tried to see if she could make the two join together.
To her delight, she could!
I can make a whole canopy of this leaf stuff, then get ordinary leaves to stick to the outside so that this will look like a place that's been covered with vines! she decided, enthusiastically. It will probably all wilt in a day or two, but by then, we'll be gone!
She gathered more leaves and began making her green fabric of them, fitting leaf to leaf to make a waterproof seal, keeping her concentration narrowed in a way she had never been able to achieve when she was just flower-sculpting. She had so much of her mind fixed to the task in her hands, in fact, that she ignored everything else.
Right up until the moment that a twig snapped and she looked up into the mad orange eyes of a white alicorn.
It snorted at her, close enough for her to smell its hot breath. She froze, holding her own breath.
The long, spiral horn rising from the middle of its forehead kept catching her attention as the alicorn watched her. It gleamed softly, a mother-of-pearl shaft that started out as thick as her own slender wrist and tapered to a wickedly sharp point. The eyes, an odd burnt-orange color, like bittersweet berries, were huge, the pupils dilated. The head was fundamentally the same shape as that of a graceful, dainty horse, but the eyes took up most of the space where brains should have been. An overlong, supple neck led down to muscular shoulders; the forelegs ended in something that was part cloven hoof, and part claw. The hindquarters were as powerful as the forequarters, with feet that were more hoof-like. A long, flowing mane, tiny chin-tuft, and tufted tail completed the beast, with one small detail—
Which the alicorn displayed as it lifted its lip to sniff her scent. Inch-long fangs graced that dainty mouth, giving the true picture of the beast's nature.
It was a killer. They all were. That was why the elves had given up the task of making them into beasts of burden or war-steeds.
In a moment it would charge her, unless she thought of some way of preventing it.
A crackling of brush made the first alicorn raise its head, but not with any alarm. In a moment, she saw why, as the alicorn was joined by its—her—mate.
Now there was more than double the danger. A mated pair tolerated nothing that might be a threat within their territory.
She couldn't move to wake Lorryn. She dared not move to take up a weapon herself. She had none of the greater magics—
—but perhaps… the lesser?
It was the only 'weapon' in her pitiful arsenal, that knack with birds and animals. Tentatively she reached out to the alicorn with her power, using only the gentlest of touches.
The alicorn flicked her ears, and her mate raised his head a little to peer more closely at her.
The alicorn's hide shuddered, and Rena watched in hope and fear as a wave of relaxation made all of its muscles go a bit slack.
Come be my friends, both of you.
Her magic drifted into their minds, subtle, like a whisper, changing just a tiny thing—that killer instinct, the urge to destroy anything that might prove dangerous. Their minds weren't any smaller than a pigeon's or a sparrow's. There was something there to work on. She half-closed her eyes, watching both of them, as her magic wove its way into what they were, soothing the too sensitive nerves, calming the wash of instant and hot emotions.
The mare took a tentative step toward her, the stallion followed. Carefully Rena reached into the pack beside her, and took out another piece of bread, breaking it in half. They didn't react to her movement, except for a slightly nervous flicking of their ears.
I have good things to eat. She held out both hands, each with a piece of bread in the palm, invitingly. She'd never yet seen a horse that could resist bread.
The stallion's nostrils flared as he took in the scent of the bread, and he shouldered the mare aside, coming to the fore. His eyes fixed first on her, then on the bread in her outstretched hand.
Come to me, come help me, and I will give you sweet treats to eat. I will keep you warm and dry, and I know all the right places to scratch. Flies will never bite you again. She wasn't actually sending thoughts into its mind, nor could she sense its thoughts the way Lorryn could, but her magic carried the promises she made to it, and
