The Elves of Cintra (Book 2 of The Genesis of Shannara)

PANTHER PEERED THROUGH the bushes that screened him from the men gathered in front of the warehouse, searching for any clue that would tell him what had become of Logan Tom.

“How long has he been in there, anyway?” he whispered to Catalya.

She shook her head, a barely perceptible movement, her body flattened against the ground next to his.

“Well, what do you think is happening?”

She shook her head again.

“So what do we do?”

She shifted her gaze sideways. “Don’t you have a plan?” she whispered back.

“No! I thought you did!” Irritated with her, he scowled in rebuke. “Why would I have a plan? This was your idea!”

“Not my idea to bring you along, it wasn’t.”

“Your idea to come in the first place!”

She made no response, and he went back to watching the entry to the warehouse, searching the darkness for movement.

Nothing. For all he knew, Logan Tom might have been dropped into a black pit and covered over.

They were hidden on a rise off to one side of the building entrance, safely back and above the outbuildings and the ghost town beyond.

Knowing that they must have been seen coming down the freeway initially from some distance off, they had chosen to come directly after the men who had taken Logan Tom, reasoning that while the freeway might be watched, the compound that housed the men might not. So far, they had been proven right. They had seen no one and not been stopped as they moved through the ravines and hollows that snaked between the hills, at last finding themselves in the wooded area they presently occupied.

But now that they had found the perfect hiding spot, a place where they could see what was happening below and not be seen, they were stymied as to what to do next.

Or at least Panther was. He glanced sideways at Catalya.

Hard to tell about her.

He studied her mottled face. Strange, at first glance, but once you got past the Lizard patches, rather nice. She was different in the same way as Tessa—unusual, unique. Black hair like Tessa, but she had pale skin like Chalk. He couldn’t explain the attraction. Of course, part of it was the way she could fight. Any girl who could take out three men as fast as she did was something special. Even Sparrow couldn’t do that. He studied her some more.

Couldn’t turn away. Didn’t want to. He wondered why she worked so hard at trying to make everyone think she was ugly.

She looked over at him suddenly, her mouth twisting into a wicked grin. “Can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”

He turned away, burning with embarrassment. Stupid Freak, he thought, then squelched the words at once. It was wrong to call her that, even without actually saying the words, wrong to think of her that way, double wrong to suggest that she was bad somehow just because of her condition.

He hated that he thought and said things before thinking them through. Hated that he did it so often. Like when Logan Tom had brought the girl into camp. First thing he did, he called her a Freak, his mouth quicker than his brain, like there was no connection between the two. Sparrow called him on it regularly. River, too, now and then. It was all right. He deserved it. He had it coming.

“I’m sorry I said those things about you earlier,” he whispered impulsively, not able to make himself look at her as he said it. “I shouldn’t have called you names. You don’t deserve that. I didn’t mean it. Not really. I was just being stupid.”

“Give me your Spray,” she said in response, almost as if she hadn’t heard him.

He hesitated, surprised by the request, but then handed over his weapon. Cat took it and slipped it quickly beneath her cloak, doing something he couldn’t quite see to secure it once it was tucked safely inside.

“Hey!” he objected. “What are you doing?”

She glanced over, giving him a wink. “Saving you from yourself. You’ll get it back when you need it.”

Below, the open space in front of the warehouse was beginning to fill with men and women, all rather ragged and haggard, all carrying weapons. They seemed to appear all at once and out of nowhere, but in truth they had come from the outbuildings and the hills beyond. They were all talking and seemed excited as they moved toward the open doors of the warehouse and poured inside.

“What’s going on?” Panther asked.

Cat looked over at him, her smile gone. “We’re about to find out. Don’t panic. We’ve been seen. They’re right behind us.”

He stared at her, thinking she was joking, that this was another of her games played at his expense. He started to say something in response, and she quickly put a finger to her lips.

“Stay where you are,” a voice ordered.

Panther felt his heart sink.

“What do you two think you’re doing?” a second voice asked.

“Just looking for something to eat,” Catalya answered at once, her voice pitifully frightened and desperate. “We didn’t mean any harm.