He gave a quick snort. “You can be any one or all at once if it helps us find our way to the others.” He fumbled his pack off his shoulders and began fishing through it. “I have some food. We ought to eat something before we start out.”
They sat together in silence, the burly Dwarf and the young girl, sharing a little of the food stash that had survived the dragon ride and lake plunge, keeping an eye on the distant island and an ear pricked for other predators. When they were finished, they rose and faced each other. Oriantha smiled at the Dwarf almost apologetically and then abruptly changed into her other self, wolfish and dangerous. The young girl was gone completely, and the predator returned from hiding once more.
The Dwarf only barely managed to hold his ground until the shape-shifter wheeled away with a snarl.
Their journey took them through the remainder of the day. Oriantha’s animal self took the lead, loping ahead of the slower-moving Dwarf, seeming to sense which direction they needed to go even without knowing either their destination or the distance they must cover. Now and again, she circled back to him, her wolfish face staring up at his, looking savage and hungry enough to give him pause. But each time she wheeled away quickly and was off again.
They encountered no visible threats that day, perhaps because they were in the dragon’s territory and nothing it might want to eat chose to live so close by. They did not see the dragon, either. Perhaps its struggle with the company had been enough for one day; perhaps it had flown off again in another direction. Whatever the case, they made good progress and avoided any confrontations.
That night they took turns keeping watch, finding shelter within a rocky overhang that enclosed them on three sides and required only that they defend themselves from the front should something come after them. But nothing did, and when morning returned they were well rested.
“Where do you think we are?” she asked him as they ate a little dried beef and fruit from the stores he still had in his pack. She had changed back again to the girl, and there was a winsome quality to her that made her seem little more than a child. “What part of the Westland is this?”
Crace Coram had been wondering that, too. “I’ve never seen or heard of country like this. Nor of dragons. Not for a long time. They were all sent into the Forbidding, weren’t they? Back in the time of Faerie?”
“It is said. But they must have missed this one.”
“Those creatures that attacked us in the Fangs—the four-legged ones with all the teeth?” He shook his head. “I’ve never seen them before, either. Where did they come from that no one has ever run across them before now? You would think the Elves might have encountered one or two at some point, no matter how deep inside the Westland they live.”
His face clouded. “If we find our way back, I’m not going on. This is madness. If the Ard Rhys wants her Elfstones so badly, she can go get them herself. I’ll tell Seersha I’ve had enough.”
She looked at him doubtfully. “Will you?”
He started to say something and stopped. “Maybe. I don’t know.” He paused. “But that’s what I should do. What we all should do.”