CHAPTER 3
We live in a cruel world, Pilgrim.
Often our closest friends
Become our worst enemies;
And our fiercest foes,
by necessity,
Become are closest, and most trusted, friends.
-FROM THE BOOK OF ST. ALBANS-
In the dead of night, I felt the small hand of Ursala touching my shoulder gently. Generally, by a campfire the child would come and snuggle up close to me for warmth. Or she would sleep underneath a protective wing of the fierce Cedric. The black and red war bird became a protective guardian of the child. Whenever she came to sleep beside him, I could feel his soul glow with an almost fatherly love for the child.
But tonight, I felt her gently shaking my shoulder. There was an urgency in her efforts to bring me out of my dreams. Opening one eye I looked up into her pale, a
