She is alone in the dark dew of pre-dawn, her clothing melted away. She is lying on the ground, a fey, nocturnal creature, her face in the wet leafy earth, her knees thrust apart. She breathes the rotting forest detritus. They are there. She knows they are there. No humid breath in her ear, no human warmth on her back, but she knows they are there, burnished skin, copper hair, eyes of shining steel. They are hard killing weaponsIrenya woke, sweating and breathless. She sat up, put her feet on the cool uneven flooring to anchor her against dread, and listened for sounds that would release her from dream-t****l. The warm wind that had sprung up at nightfall still billowed the tent walls and breathed through small gaps. A sentry’s footsteps. Slow. Steady. Closer, then fading. She sensed Aldin
