Ara opened her bleary eyes to see herself surrounded by faces that resembled her own. Except Jarrer, she'd never seen full blooded Elves before. Where Men were stocky with short hair and beards (worn to denote their elder status), the Elves were taller and lithe and even the males wore long hair. They had no beards, and she later learned that this was because they did not grow facial hair. There movements were fluid, calculating, while Men treaded heavily in comparison. They spoke little, and when they did it was with reserve. The jolly, chatty Dwarves would have been out of place amongst them.
Ara observed all this as though she was detached from her body. She wasn't sure how long she lay quietly, but she was aware of them lighting a fire as it became dark. Before the darkest hour, the pain came—or perhaps she simply returned to it.
Lark must have noticed the beads of sweat as Ara fought to keep from crying out. She kindly wiped the perspiration from her face and tipped some water to her mouth.
Ara refused.
"I am Lark. You need to drink. It will help cleanse your body," she chided.
Resigned, Ara parted her lips and choked it down. She preferred not to remember the next few days. They were filled with hot, sticky, soul aching pain, as though some creature gnawed on her very bones. Then, just as suddenly as they pain took root, it began to wither. When it had subsided, Ara again became conscious of her surroundings. She was weak from the lack of food and her bodies fight for life, but alive. Kodan had never left her side. She reached up and stroked his cheek. "Alright?" she asked.
He nudged her, "Yes. You?"
Ara didn't respond, just kept stroking his face. She looked up to see Lark bringing her something in a cup. "Drink this," she said kindly. Ara took the cup and sipped at the strange tea while studying the Elve who had been her primary caregiver through her sickness. Knotted in an intricate braid, her long blonde hair hung below her waist. Freckles danced merrily across her fair nose, and her eyes were the most vibrant green Ara had ever seen.
"My name is Lark." Her head tipped to the side as she conversely studied Ara.
"I remember. My name is Ara."
Lark squatted down on her haunches. "You've been here six days."
Ara swallowed hard as she tried to digest that. When her wits returned to her, she said simply, "Thank you for helping us."
"We nearly didn't. The Dwarve told us who you were. We followed your attackers and killed most of them."
"Zacar?" Ara's eyes were pleading.
Lark's eyes filled with sorrow. "We found all but the most important, your friend and their leader."
Ara's eyes narrowed. "Zehlin."
Ara saw a flash of anger that Lark tried to hide by looking away quickly. "It seems that new players in the Kanovian's game have come about, and my people are unaware of any of them." She looked back at Ara. "Why have you come here, Ara Nightstar, Priestess of the Utheral Unicorns?"
Ara's dark eyes searched Lark's green ones. Would Lark ever believe her? Probably not. "I have come to compel Catara to help us fight the Kanovians. Will you take me to her?"
Lark dropped her eyes. "When we helped you, Ara Nightstar, we broke our Queen's edict. We can no longer enter the forest unbidden."
Ara started at her words. They'd been exiled for helping her! It couldn't be! "Jarrer found his way through," she fumbled
