The Guvnah and Vixen returned from scouting the supply camp.

Ashlyn was relieved to see them. She had begun to wonder about the sense of sending their only two scouts into the forest.

Alfie wore a puzzled expression. "The gates are barred but not a soul on duty that I can see—at the gates or on lookout."

"So now's a good time to attack?" Mental asked him.

"I suppose so."

"The ballistae?" The Hoffmeister asked him. His infantry had wheeled three of the machines in carts.

"Set them up, I guess," Alfie said. "Just in case. But there's no one to shoot at right now."

"Then shouldn't we attack immediately, while we have the advantage?" Mental persisted.

"Didn't you just already ask that, Mary?" Alfie said, sounding exasperated.

Ashlyn got the distinct impression he didn't like being in charge. Leadership isn't for everyone. "Georg," she said. "Send ten infantry with axes to get the gates open."

"The infantry aren't fodder for the enemy," he said.

"Neither are we," she answered. "And it's the mercs who went in first every time in Benxi."

There were mutterings of agreement at that.

"Very well," The Hoffmeister relented. He ordered the ballistae readied. Then he accompanied ten of the infantry to the gates.

"Is he making some kind of point?" Ashlyn muttered under her breath.

"Just stay calm," Ori advised. "Everyone is on edge without Stiff here."

Lurin was loudly telling Randall that he could have blown the gates open. The Baron was telling Vixen crowbars would work better than axes. Mental slapped Rilie's hand after the halfling had spun her sling one time too many.

Ashlyn shook her head. "If we fall apart in his absence then we need to do a few more missions without our illustrious leader."

"It's the poisoning as well," Ori said. "People are upset."

"People are hungover more like," Ashlyn retorted. "Stiff said we needed some fresh air, and I think he was right."

One of the gates wobbled from the axe blows, and the infantry pushed it open. The Hoffmeister peered inside the camp. Ashlyn braced herself for a roar of charging imperials, or a volley of arrows. Instead, silence.

The Hoffmeister turned to them. "It's safe," he shouted.

Intrigued, Ashlyn led the mercs into the camp. It was lined with lookout posts, all empty. "They could be hiding," she said. The camp covered a huge space, large parts of it taken up by a variety of wooden buildings, built for storage and as barracks. "We need to conduct a thorough search. Be careful. Work in groups."

"So they evacuated," The Guvnah said.

Despite her caution, Ashlyn had to agree. "It's like they expected us to come and decided they couldn't hold it."

"I wonder where they went," said Ori.

"We need to get the scouts here and do some tracking," Ashlyn suggested.

The search of the camp confirmed it was empty. The Hoffmeister put two score infantry on guard duty. Compared to taking Benxi, it had been ridiculously easy.

Just as Ashlyn was beginning to relax, there were shouts of "Halt!" from the guards on duty. She hurried over to see Twerk, riding Sharptooth, admitted into camp.

The gnome had an arrow sticking out of his chest and was pale as snow. The warg had been stuck with two arrows and was limping.

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Ori grabbed her medic kit and rushed over.

"Ambush," Wilson said, sounding delirious. "The imperials were waiting for us."

Ashlyn looked behind them. "Where are the others?"

***

Jaelin would have given up by now. If he was carrying anyone other than Mila, he would have collapsed to the ground, defeated, and let the imperials have him.

As it was, he drew on hidden reserves to keep going, one foot in front of the other. Worse than moving was when he had to stop and hide, while an imperial search party went past. He'd dropped his bow hours ago. He feared capture. He feared he wouldn't have the strength to resume if he wasn't caught. Most of all, he feared for Mila. He was losing her. She needed rest and treatment for her injuries. Her clothes were wet and cold. Much more of this and her body would give up.

He hefted her onto his shoulder and set off once more. He had no plan. Avoiding the chasing imperials had left him in an unfamiliar part of the Wildwood. Night was drawing in. Tears of desperation came to his eyes.

When he blinked them away, he spotted a wooden hut, almost hidden by tree cover. He stopped, staring at it. Every conceivable danger played through his mind as he stood there. But he knew he had no alternative.

He approached the hut. It looked old and neglected, the roof probably leaky. But it was shelter—realistically the only one he'd find.

Don't let yourself hope, Jaelin, he told himself. The chances he was the only one to have found it were miniscule.

He made for the door. As he did, his heart sank. Three figures emerged from cover a mere thirty feet away. Two of the imperials had arrows nocked on their bows, the third held a spear.

"Stop," said one of the bowmen. "Don't do anything stupid."

"I'm not about to," Jaelin told him. "I'm putting her down. I need to be careful, she's badly injured."

They watched as he lowered Mila. He wondered why he hadn't already been stuck by a couple of arrows. Do they want me alive?

"Next that knife, then on your knees."

Jaelin did as he was asked.

As soon as the spearman took his first step towards him, the twang of an arrow being loosed made Jaelin tense his shoulders.

The spearman went down dead.

The next arrow took one of the bowmen, causing enough damage to leave them unconscious with only a couple of hit points remaining. The third arrow missed, but the fourth accounted for the second bowman.

Jaelin turned at the sound of running feet behind him.

Clamor appeared. The scout went straight to the hut. With an arrow drawn, he barged the door open with his shoulder and entered. When he reappeared, his hands were free. "It's empty," he told Jaelin. "You get her inside, and I'll hide the bodies."

Jaelin stared at him, unable to comprehend that he and Mila were safe.

Clamor frowned at him. "I'll do it." He scooped Mila up and took her in. When he returned, Jaelin had succeeded in getting to his feet. He took a replacement bow and quiver of arrows from one of the downed imperials.

He watched as Clamor grabbed the first imperial under the arms and dragged him off. When Clamor returned, Jaelin was dragging the wounded bowman towards the hut.

"What in Gehenna are you doing?" the Hargon demanded.

"He's still alive."

"I'll soon solve that," Clamor said, putting a hand to the hilt of his knife.

"He could have killed me and Mila. He didn't."

"So?"

"There's no need to kill him. He's no threat."

Clamor shook his head, his expression somewhere between disbelief and disgust. "Get on with it, then."

The hut was mostly an open space, ancient looking animal hides used to separate a small sleeping area. Otherwise, it was largely empty, giving every impression of being uninhabited for many years. There was a hearth opposite the door, surrounded by a small wall made of pebbles. Jaelin deposited the imperial here, next to Mila.

He knelt beside her, putting his fingers to her neck. There was still a pulse, but he was wracked with worry. He took out her medical kit and examined her. Two arrows in her back, and one in her leg. He didn't know where to start.

Clamor returned, peering out of the door for a few moments, before dropping fuel into the hearth and getting a fire going.

"Thank you," Jaelin said.

"Those imperials had a few rations," Clamor said, giving Jaelin some hardtack.

"She's wet and cold," Jaelin said. "I think I need to get her out of these clothes."

Clamor gave Mila a look, then nodded. He ripped down the animal hide curtain. "You can put this over her. Dry out the clothes then dress her again."

"What about the arrows?"

"Cut the clothes around them. Don't disturb those arrows any more than you must." He pulled a face. "They've done enough damage."

"What about getting them out?"

Clamor gestured at the opened medic kit. "You or I try to do that, and the chances are we'll kill her. Bad luck that it's our medic that got injured. We have to hope the others find us and that tiefling gets here in time."

That was a long shot. "If she doesn't?"

Clamor shrugged. "Then risk it if you want."

Jaelin swallowed, Clamor's meaning all too clear. He tried to put it out of his mind, focusing on getting Mila out of her clothes and dry. He ate his food as he worked, restoring some of his lost energy. He put some salve on her wounds, around the arrow. He carefully laid the musty smelling animal hide over her.

He glanced over at the wounded imperial, but he was too exhausted to even think about what to do with him.

"You need sleep," Clamor said. He gestured at The Explorer's side. "You've been hurt yourself."

The snapped off arrow still protruded from his wound, draining his strength.

"I'll keep watch for the first part of the night," Felix said.

Jaelin could think of no one he'd rather have looking out for him and Mila. "Thank you. It was all over if you hadn't been there."

"That's true."

"Were you waiting there?"

"Aye. Thought an empty hut was too good to be true. I was happy to wait until I saw some activity. Then you blundered onto the scene and revealed the enemy for me. So you have my thanks as well. Now get some rest."

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