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Index | Time Under Chaos | Game Logs | Into the Woods

They moved through the woods at a steady pace, not swift and with frequent checks by Pan for any dangers that might threaten them—both arcane and practical (once they caught a distant scent of wolves).

And deeper into the forests they went, on a long green path that seemed to lead steadily onwards.

But when they looked behind, the path had been swallowed by the forest.

Clytemnestra trotted along on the other side of the fawn. Every once in a while she would leap a fallen tree or large boulder in a manner that was more exuberant than strictly necessary—obviously delighting in experimentation with this new body—but would soon fall back into place, remembering that the whole point was to avoid drawing attention.

They traveled all day in such a fashion. As night fell, they had reached a clearing with a small pool. Pan stood guard and urged them forward to drink.

And as they were drinking, there was a rustle in the trees.

Petra's head snapped up and turned in that direction. Body tensed for flight, her eyes sought the source of the noise.

Clytemnestra did likewise, on the other side of the fawn.

A figure came into view, fantastically garbed in leaves and twigs. Long dark hair hung, matted and tangled, almost to his waist, but his beard was in similar condition, with strands twisted or plaited and wound about twigs. He wore the remains of breeches perhaps once brown in colour but now so stained and torn that they were indistinguishable from the moss on the forest floor.

For a long moment he was still, staring at them, a stave clutched between two long hands. Then he grunted and thrust one end of the stave in the ground, and bowed his head in greeting to them all.

Pan walked slowly forward and bowed his head in response. Something in his movements suggested to both Clytemnestra and Petra that he was not expecting the man to speak.

Indeed the man then spread his arms wide in greeting and then squatted down, as though inviting them to join him, watching them with a pair of shrewd dark brown eyes.

Petra glanced at Clytemnestra before she lowered her head to nudge the fawn to follow her. She warily approached until coming to a stop beside the stag that was Pan and lowering her head in greeting. She was far from relaxed, but they had trusted Pan this far; stuck in the middle of strange woods while trapped as a doe and her Trump deck formed into a fawn was not the time to stop.

Clytemnestra came forward on the other side of the fawn from Petra. Her eyes never left those of the strange wild man as she performed a sort of deer curtsy, bowing on one front leg with the other back.

The stranger smiled at this, showing surprisingly good teeth (although, perhaps, his likely diet out here in the woods accounted for this). He clicked his fingers, and the little fawn suddenly stiffened and tried to make his way forward, towards the man.

Only for Petra to step between the man and the fawn. She gave the man a fierce look. Well, as fierce as a doe could look with those eyes.

Clytemnestra stepped gently between Petra and the man. She cocked her head to one side, as if asking a question. Her eyes remained locked upon his.

The man smiled again and rose to his feet in a smooth, practised gesture. He stood quite still, his hands a little spread to each side, as though to show he was not a threat. He smiled at Clytemnestra—and then clicked his fingers again.

The little fawn nudged hopefully at Petra's side, as though eager to reach the man.

Ness glanced at Pan, to gauge his attitude toward the stranger.

Pan was standing still, his head raised, watching the man calmly. He was close enough to attack the man with those ferocious looking horns if anything untoward occurred, but seemed for the moment, from his stance and kinesics, to be prepared to let the fawn approach the man.

Petra remained wary, but she stepped back enough to let the fawn move forward.

Clytemnestra likewise stood aside.

The fawn trotted forward and came to stand in front of the man, who stared down at it for a long minute. Then, suddenly, he reached down—Pan leaned forward in warning—and caressed the fawn's head, scratching behind its ears. Then, almost like a magician, he lifted his hand to reveal, suspended between two finger, a card. It was, Petra could see, one of her trumps.

The fawn sneezed—but seemed in no way discommoded or diminished by the action.

The man lifted the card, turning it over slowly in his filthy hands, as though it held some lost meaning.

Mildly alarmed, Petra took a step closer to the man and looked pointedly at him and the card in his hand. She had no idea what or who it was of, but there were several there that it would not do to just have floating around some strange woodland. One delicate hoof pawed the ground once before she stilled, watching.

The man looked up—and smiled at her. Then he reached forward to the fawn, the card in his hand still (it seemed, Theresa could see, to be one of the Queen). He ran his hand along the fawn's neck, and suddenly the card was gone. The fawn gave another delicate sneeze and then turned and trotted back to stand with Petra and Clytmenestra, not a whit discomposed.

The man rose to his feet. His smile had faded—if anything, he looked saddened.

Ness looked into the strange man's eyes once more. Despite the urgency of her mission, she felt oddly moved. Before she could stop herself, she sent the thought to him, ~Can we help you?~

He did not answer but, for a moment, ho looked at though he was listening intently. Then suddenly, he waved his arm urgently—and turned and plunged away through the trees. Pan watched him go and then turned to the others. With a swift toss of his head, he indicated that they should follow, rapidly.

And then they heard it—the distant belling of hounds.

Petra grunted softly, urgently at the fawn and nudged it firmly to follow the man and she was right beside it; running, leaping, urging the fawn on.

Pan was urging them on—racing beside them, now ahead, now behind. They were running deeper and deeper into the forest—and then forest seemed to be changing around them as the shifted through Shadow...or maybe it was time...or something else.

The belling of the hounds grew louder, closer...and then died away...and they were in a small glade, deep in the forest beside a waterfall, and Pan trotted forward to drink deep. The man, unexpectedly, was still there, stretched full length and panting on the grass.

Petra too drank briefly from the fall fed pool. But the flight had only made the already wary female even more so. She checked that the fawn was safely with Ness, then she paced the grove, pausing once in awhile to listen and sniff the air. Her pacing eventually brought her into close proximity to the man. She found herself studying him curiously. Who was he, she wondered. She had begun thinking of him as the Green Man, but she couldn't imagine the Green Man running from hounds.

The man, Green or otherwise, looked up at Petra. He was frowning—not in a hostle way, but as though something about her baffled or confused him.

Pan moved closer to Clytemnestra near the pool.

Clytemnestra looked into Pan's eyes. ~Who is he?~ she projected.

Pan shook his great antlers—and then suddenly he was a man, with dark curly hair and golden horns, and Clytemenestra was herself again. Only the fawn was unchanged, looking from one to another of them, bewildered. The man didn't seem surprised at all.

"I don't know," Pan said. "He never speaks.

"We can rest here for a while—in your human forms if you wish. This glade is sacred to me."

Upon realizing she was human again, Petra gave a relieved sigh and sank down onto the grass, still near the strange man and not caring one bit that she was naked as the day she was born. She cocked her head to one side, running her fingers through her hair as she studied him. "What is your story?" she wondered quietly. Not expecting an answer, she leaned back on her elbows and admired the tree canopy. The number of times Petra had actually spent any time in the woods could be counted on one hand. She was sure she wouldn't be able to be one of those people content to make a life in the forest, but it was nice to visit.

Likewise unconcerned with her nakedness, Ness walked over to the stranger. She smiled at Petra, then sat next to him and said, "I am Clytemnestra. Who are you?"

He looked at her for a long moment—and then smile faded a little from his face. Then he reached up and touched her hair as though dissatisfied. He stared at it a moment longer then, slowly, he reached into the leather belt he wore and withdrew a small but serviceable knife with a wicked blade. Still looking at her, he drew it lightly across the back of his arm. A thin line of blood droplets stood out. He glanced down at them, then up again as her hair...then down to the slowly welling blood.

Petra glanced over and did a double take, sitting up as she watched. Her brow furrowed in thought as she observed. "Maybe he thinks you should be a redhead...like your Mother."

"You may be right," Ness replied to Petra, still not taking her eyes off the stranger, "Too bad I can't change my hair color at will to test that." To him, she continued, "My mother is Fiona of Amber. Do you know her?" She looked deep into his eyes, and through that connection said into his mind, ~Benedict?~

The change was electrifying. One moment the man was sitting on the ground gazing deep into Clytemnestra's eyes...

And the next he seemed to be fifty yards away and running through the trees.

Petra started and stared after him in surprise. "What the devil did you do?" she asked of Ness.

"I identified him!" Ness yelled over her shoulder as she gave chase. "It's your father!"

Petra looked blankly at Ness's retreating form a moment before it registered. "Merda!" she exclaimed and leapt to her feet to give chase to her cousin through the trees.

Running through the woods, branches slapping and scratching her bare skin, Ness muttered, "Damn damn damn! Bad timing! Ow! Damned pine cones, I wish I had hooves again!"

The man had the advantage of crudely shod feet—and probably hardened soles as well. He was racing away from them...

And then the hunting horns sounded again—much closer.

Ness stopped, and grabbed Petra as she ran past. "We have to go back to Pan!" she whispered urgently. "We can't be found here. But we'll come back for him."

Jerked to a stop, Petra watched the man continue running. She looked for a moment as if she might call back out to him, but a blast of horns in the distance stayed her. She blew out a breath, nodded, and turned to retrace her steps. "He said the grove was sacred. We should get back to it."

"I just hope we can find it," Ness panted as she ran, "before those hunters find us. Or at all."

As they turned and hurried back, they began to see the shadows of riders between the trees, and occasional flashes of brightly coloured cloth... the horns were very close—as was the belling of the hounds.

And once you have fled a glade of trees, unless you have marked your way, it's not so easy to find again.

Then—they heard the sound of water...

But the hounds were closer.

"Keep going!" Ness hissed urgently to her companion, "I'll distract them and catch up with you in a bit."

In one fluid motion, Ness ran two steps up the trunk of an oak, grasped a low branch, and pulled herself over it.

Ness, climbing the tree, saw a great and glorious company riding through the woods, well-mounted and dressed in flowing robes. Their faces reminded her of representations she had seen of the Sidhe...and they were coming closer, their hounds at their horses' feet, sniffing at the grass.

None of them had yet seen her, but they were moving steadily in the direction Petra had gone.

From her branch, Ness sang out in a high, clear voice:

I AM immortal! I know it! I feel it!
Hope floods my heart with delight!
Running on air mad with life dizzy, reeling,
Upward I mount,—faith is sight, life is feeling,
Hope is the day-star of might!

She punctuated the verses with acorns, hurled at the hounds.

The riders drew rein - some circling the tree, others pausing to look upwards.

One tall man with long, flowing dark hair, began to laugh.

"Immortal, sweet nymph? Even to the arrow of love?"

So saying he began to reach for the bow he wore at his back, while others in his party laughed.

From her elevation, Ness could see that a second party of riders were drawing closer.

"It's a harsh sort of love," Ness replied, "that hounds poor dryads through their woods. But I think you seek something other than love here. What is it, pray tell?"

As she spoke, she summoned the power of the Pattern.

It surrounded her with a golden woven light, like a mesh or a net. There was a warmth in it, a protection ... but no power beyond that.

A young female Sidhe pointed up admiringly.

"Pretty!" she said.

In response, Ness smiled, and curtseyed as best she could from her perch.

The man laughed and lowered his bow.

"Come down and join our hunt, sweet beauty," he said invitingly.

She looked around the tree she'd trapped herself in, evaluating the likelihood of traversing the woods through the canopy.

Now she could see more clearly the second party—and it was led by three riders.

On the left the rider seemed no older than a child—but as they drew closer, Ness saw that the impression was, in part, illusory. She was some sixteen summers or so, dressed in robes of green, with her golden hair unbound, and her blue eyes wide with innocent interest at all she was seeing.

To the right rode a woman in full bloom. Her hair was the richness of corn and the glory of leaves when first autumnal lights strike them, and her robes were golden. There was a great beauty in her face...and Ness was reminded of Flora.

But the one in the middle was male, and very familiar to Ness.

It was the King's brother and her own cousin, Jurt.

And for his part, in the middle of a pleasant morning's hunting, Jurt was seeing his cousin Ness, perched halfway up a tree and quite naked.

Jurt smiled. "Really cousin, while I find your attire wholly suitable for the surroundings and company, I'm fairly certain your mentor would still not approve. She's much more likely to tease but never reveal...well, what you've revealed." He dismounted and removed his top layer of robes, holding it at the shoulders for her to sensibly slip into if she cared.

Turning back to his escorts he explained, "One of my cousins, apparently without her twin sister, but that is most often how they are found." Jurt's smile was just this side of lecherous. "Of course it does make me wonder if the other has that same birthmark in the same location or if they're mirrored."

"You have been led amiss, dear cousin," Ness replied, "due to some trick of the dappled forest sunlight, no doubt. I happen to know that my skin is flawless. And as long as no arrows or hounds' teeth threaten to make it otherwise, I will happily come down."

She swung gracefully to the ground, then slipped into the proffered garment before curtsying again more suitably. "My companion will be worried for me. I urged her to flee, not knowing who was coming, and I promised I would follow when I could. May I have your leave to go after her?"

The woman to the right of Jurt was sitting very still, her face even stiller.

Then she turned to Jurt.

"And who," she asked. "is this?"

She gestured imperiously to some of the huntsmen. "There is another close by. Find her, and bring her."

Ness stepped toward the Lady. "Lady, my name is Clytemnestra. I am, as your companion has stated, his cousin, in a rather roundabout sense. He is also my uncle, as a matter of fact. Regardless, I am here seeking the sister he mentioned. I'd be very grateful for any assistance in locating her."

"Seeking Helena?" Jurt asked. "My Lady, it seems your Barrier is becoming less selectively permeable as the day wears on."

Turning back to Ness, he looked curious. "Who is here with you?"

"My companion, Petra," Ness replied. "I believe you've met her." She gave him a significant look. "She volunteered to help me search for Helena. She's been a good friend." She turned to the Lady. "And as I said, she will be worried for me. I know where she will be waiting. Shall we go there?"

Enchanting," said the Lady. "Certainly we should."

She signaled to her huntspeople to mount up and follow Ness's lead through the forest.

Ness led the party in the general direction of Pan's pool. She decided along the way that it was likely that at some time fairly recently, a couple of young ladies of her and Petra's size had been bathing in that pool and left some clothes stuffed behind a tree.

Jurt chose to walk his mount at Ness's side. Quietly he asked, "Are you certain that Helena is here?"

"Not at all," she replied with equal discretion. "A friend thought he saw me somewhere unusual, and asked me about it. I asked him to take me there, but I don't know how close we are to the place, or if it was truly Helena he saw. What are you doing here, Uncle Jurt?"

"Hunting, and making the most of an unexpected situation," he replied with a smile for the Lady over the shoulder. "How is your Uncle and Amber since the Pattern Storm that sent me here?"

"Pattern storm?" Ness murmured. "What Pattern storm? Do you mean the whole disturbance with Tir na Nog'th? Is that what brought you here? If so, then there's every chance my sister is here too."

"Is that what happened? We responded to the alarm, and I was flying a wyvern at the vortex of energy and the next thing I knew I had broached Glimmergloom's barrier and was being greeted here by the Maiden, Mother, and Crone," Jurt explained as he looks about for Petra.

They were approaching a glade that seemed to be glowing a little more vividly in a way that reminded them both of Arden... Ness recognised it as the glade from which she had raced...

"Petra?" Ness called ahead. "I'm back! And I brought some friends!" Under her breath, she whispered, "I hope."

"One does hope," Jurt chuckled as he scanned about the clearing. He took specific note of the Lady and her companions, the Shieldbearer and then the Singer and the Maiden.

Petra looked back over her shoulder once, then she poured on the speed as she raced towards the sounds of the falls. If she could get to Pan, Pan could get to Ness. She'd already lost one member of that family, she had no intention of losing another one.

She burst into the clearing to find Pan, still in human form but now with goat legs, stretched on a rock and playing a wistful air on a set of small pipes, the fawn curled up at his feet. He looked up curiously at Petra.

"I presume you didn't catch him," he said.

Petra dropped into the grass to catch her breath. "No," she panted, fanning herself with one hand. "Hounds. Coming this way. Ness...stayed back to divert them. She may need help."

She eyed the pool and climbed to her feet as the sounds of the hunt drew nearer. "I think I will go pretend to be a water nymph." As she moved, her appearance started to change until she was ebony haired and violet eyed, looking more like Nicco's sister, and with the curvature countless artists across shadow had attributed to the tempting and elusive fae folk for centuries.

Pan watched her appreciatively.

"Well," he said, "If the hounds don't catch you, I think I'll have a go myself."

The fawn raised his head and stared at her, clearly bewildered.

"Isn't this your sacred grove?" She checked the depth of the water at the edges before she stepped into the water to cool off. "And am I not with you?"

"Oh yes," said Pan appreciatively. "Yes, indeed you are.

"Shall we make sure we're not disturbed, or are we waiting for the goddess to join us?"

Petra frowned from the center of the pool into which she had waded. "She may need help. She was distracting the hunters. She said she would catch up, but there sounded an awful lot of them, don't you think?"

"There did," said Pan. "Would you prefer to hide? Or to assist the Goddess? I suspect that those who pursue you might know where her sister is likely to be. That does not mean they will help her—unless it serves their own ends."

"I would expect nothing less from them," Petra said. She smoothed back her wet hair. "I see no need to hide; we are in your protected grove. We'll give her a few more minutes, I think, to let her work her own magic first. No need to give us all up to them and leave no one to search for Helena." She frowned as she stepped back out of the pool. "Of course, if they take her, them we will just have to search for Ness as well. It's a bit of a dilemma, si?"

"You choose your path," said Pan. "and I will follow the trackless way. But I shall endeavour to see you both returned home safe, if I can—with all that is yours."

He glanced at the fawn.

"I cannot lose her...that," Petra stated matter-of-factly. "And I also cannot go traipsing through the woods like this either. It's dangerous, other wise I wouldn't really mind being in this condition. So if you could arrange something.... Foot covering of some kind as well, please.

Pan looked at her, a little puzzled. "Don't your kind just conveniently find what you want stuffed behind a bush?"

Petra made a face while finger combing her hair while shifting it back to brown. "I'm not very good at it," she said sourly. "I never had a chance to walk the Pattern, and doing it without that makes it much more difficult."

Oh," said Pan. "Well, there's certainly the sort of robes some elven maidens might have left behind in a hurry behind that tree. Sandals too. Perhaps they've always been there."

"Convenient, that," Petra replied and went off to check for herself. She wasn't especially shocked to find them there, though she did grumble about wasted fabric as she pulled them on.

"What about our cards? Are they likely to be confiscated if they find them on us?"

"That depends on how far you charm the Lady," said Pan. "She commands a Power like and unlike your own. And she is dangerous, for she knows her time is waning."

Ah." Petra nodded as she rejoined him. "A woman with nothing to lose. The second most dangerous kind of female. What does it take to charm this one?"

"You'll have a chance to find out now," Pan said, his voice growing fainter. "She's here."

Petra frowned when she turned to where he had been.

And suddenly Petra was alone in the glade, with a frightened fawn pressed close against her side, before what seemed like a vast number of horses and riders began pressing through the trees and to the edge of the glade. But, it seemed, most of them could not set foot on the circle of green grass that was the heart of the glade. Save only three—Ness, Jurt...and a young woman who swung down from her horse and who advanced, like the other two, on foot.

Petra's hand stroked along the fawn's head and neck reassuringly as she watched the three come towards her. She raised an eyebrow in surprise when she recognized the man. "This day has been just full of surprises. Hello, Jurt."

"Petra, it's good to see you," Jurt greeted her.

Ness smiled with relief when she saw the clothes. "At least that worked," she said, handing back Jurt's cloak and beginning to dress. "Are you okay, Petra? My distraction didn't work very well, sorry. I seem somewhat impaired here."

"I'm fine," Petra replied breezily as her eyes curiously scanned the rest of the riders outside the ring of trees that bordered the grove. She continued stroking the fawn at her side's neck. "Even had time for a quick dip in the pool."

The young Sawall shrugged back into his cloak with a little smile for Ness, "My apologies for mis-speaking earlier. Flawless indeed."

Ness nodded, with a "just so" look on her face.

"Mi'lady, may I have the honor of introducing your friend, Petra?" Without waiting for Ness's answer, he turned back to the Lady. "This is Petra, Petra, the Lady of Glimmergloom."

Petra gave the Lady a deep, sweeping curtsy. "M'Lady. It is a privilege to meet you."

The lady gave her a cool, assessing look—and then smiled—a singularly charming smile.

"And you, Petra. Do you bear no other title but your very pretty name?"

Petra straightened smoothly and smiled. "In my mother's home, I am titled Marchesa Di Rossini. But that is the only place it means anything."

"It may be a title from a far off land, " said the Lady, "but those too are respected here. Welcome, Madame la Marchesa. I see you wear the robes of an acolyte of the Maiden. Have you then taken a vow of chastity?"

"Just Marchesa, Lady." Petra looked down at her robes and silently cursed Pan's sense of humor. Or Ness'. She gave the Lady a chagrined smile. "I fear the fawn that stole my clothes while I was in the pool has a strange sense of humor, My Lady. I hope I have not offended by wearing them, but it was what I found in place of my things."

The Lady moved her horse forward, closer to Petra. Then she reached down and pulled a long, slim dagger from her hunting boot.

"You have not offended," she said calmly. "But without a profession of chastity, it is unfitting that you wear the robes in that state."

"I agree," Petra nodded while keeping an eye on the dagger.

She took the dagger in her right hand and made a sudden slash across the palm of her left. Then she moved her outstretched hand towards Petra—who saw the blood welling from the long cut—and made a sudden tossing motion. A shower of blood in the air; it seemed that the robe must be speckled with drops of blood.

But when Petra looked down, it was not drops of blood but drops of gold that she saw on the hitherto pristine material, as cunningly placed as though they had been worked into the weave and weft of the fabric.

The Lady, smiling a little, slid her dagger back into her boot. There was no sign of gold—or blood—upon the dark grey blade, and her hand appeared to be uninjured.

A little murmur of startled admiration went around the gathered Sidhe—although whether it was for the Lady, her action, or Petra's altered state was hard to tell.

Petra smiled brightly. "Thank you, Lady. If I should happen across that faun again, he and I will have words."

The Lady gave a kindly smile. "We must have words on this faun, by and by, you and I."

If Ness noticed that Pan was missing, she made no sign of it. Once fully clad, she walked back to the Lady and her entourage. "Lady, I do not know exactly where my sister was seen, but I believe it was near here. I'd be grateful if you would help me locate her, but I have no wish to interrupt your hunt. May I at least have your leave to continue searching for her?"

Petra looked on quietly.

"More than that!" said the Lady. "We are a hunting party—we will help your search! Do you have anything that belonged to her, that we might give her scent to our hounds?"

Jurt raised an eyebrow at the suggestion, but didn't answer, waiting on his cousin's reply.

"I have nothing of hers, Lady, " Ness replied. "We have been separated for many years, and that is why I seek her so desperately. But I have a talent for seeking and finding. I'm sure that if I were to walk through your forest, I would find some sign of her. If she has been here at all, that is."

"Then some of us shall company you," said the Lady. "There are dangers in these woods, and none should go alone. Least of all a maiden young and fair."

Next to Jurt, the Maiden gave a faint, wistful sigh.

Ness curtsied again, face downcast to hide her ironic smile. "Thank you, Lady. You are most gracious." She did not correct the Lady's assessment of her maidenhood, regardless of the robes she now wore.

In the hunting party, the hounds, on leashes, were interested in the fawn. The fawn was clearly worried and looked nervously up at Petra.

Petra gives the fawn what she hopes is a reassuring smile and strokes its neck again.

Jurt mounted again, not reacting to what he obviously didn't hear. He draws his horse near his cousin and offered her a hand, so she might ride behind him. "Please, allow me, cousin. I've a concern for your sister as well, though she likely does not return the sentiment."

"No need, Uncle. Our horses appear to have wandered while Petra and I bathed, but I believe they are off this way. Petra, don't forget your pet." Clytemnestra strode into the woods, confident that someone had lost horses recently near here.

Petra looked a bit affronted at the idea that she could possibly go off and forget the fawn. She looked back down at the fawn, pondering the logistics of riding while carrying a live deer in front of her, even a small one.

And there were some rather fine horses there, with the silver-belled harness that the Sidhe seemed to favour. One was coal black, the other was palest milk.

Ness patted the pale horse. "Ah here they are. We will have to ride at a walk, in order to watch for signs of my sister, and also so we don't leave Petra's pet behind. Speaking of which..."

She led the fawn back a few steps toward the leashed hounds, willing it to be calm with her touch. She knelt beside it, stroking it gently, before turning her gaze, and her will, upon the hounds. ~This child is part of the pack,~ she conveyed to each of them. ~Protect her. She is a child of the pack.~

The hounds, who had been straining forward at the scent of the fawn, now appeared baffled. Some wandered around in a small circle; others sat down and began to wash themselves. None of them paid any further attention to the fawn.

Jurt seemed unconcerned by the girls' antics once Ness declined to discuss her promiscuity. He drew aside the Singer and discussed an idea he had for working out his own accompaniment for a rendition of True Thomas's Lay. Just suggested he might be able to shift an extra larynx and thus while singing offer something resembling a woodwinds accompaniment.

The Singer was delighted and enthusiastic. If they had been somewhere more private he said, a little wistfully, he would have wanted a demonstration of this on the spot.

Jurt reassured him that they might make an attempt when they had returned to the City.

Petra curtsied again to the Lady. "If you will excuse me, I will go collect my horse and pet."

Assuming she is excused, she will go over to where Ness is.

Ness appeared to be murmuring soothing words to the fawn, but was actually speaking very quietly for Petra's benefit. "Petra, I told them you were my companion. There seemed to be some advantage in not letting them know you were family: I hope this doesn't offend you. I also didn't mention anyone else who was at the pool."

"That's fine," Petra answered lowly as she stroked the fawn's back. "I would feel better if I had some sort of bridle for this fawn, however. If she's to walk alongside. Or I can carry her. Either way." She eyes the horse. "Though she may not like it much."

Ness sighed. "Pan has saddled us with a quandary here. She's a lovely creature, and I've become fond of her, but she's a liability in her current state. Do you want to see if we can reproduce your father's trick? It might be better if we attempted it in more privacy. And I fear what will happen when the last item is removed."

Petra shook her head. "I would rather not try that just yet. There are too many people around, and it could still all go pear shaped if we haven't charmed the Lady sufficiently."

"Agreed. We'll just have to try something creative then. It's really too bad Pan didn't give you a squirrel or a bunny instead." Ness stroked the fawn fondly, then stood and stretched and walked over to Jurt. "Uncle, Petra's little friend is tired, and we're concerned that she will slow our search. I'd like to rig up a sort of sling for her to ride in. May I borrow your cloak again? I, um, can't promise it will be returned to you without some additional holes."

Jurt unhooked the cloak again, handing it down to her. "Of course, but I don't think I exaggerate when I state that it was much more becoming on you, with your previous outfit."

He offered the fawn a curious look, and met Ness's eyes. "Do you need any help cousin?"

The Lady sat still on her horse watching all of them—but especially Ness and Petra. The Maiden, for her part, was fidgeting on her horse and casting worried looks at Jurt.

Ness replied to Jurt, "I'm certain that another pair of hands would be helpful."

He dismounted and joined the women, offering quietly, "I wasn't referring to the fawn, my dear."

Between the three of them, the cloak, and some bits of leather strapping, they managed to get Petra on the dark horse, with the fawn nestled in a large makeshift pannier beside her. Once Petra was satisfied, Ness mounted the pale horse and turned to the Lady.

"With your leave, then, Lady—and your escort—we will resume our search." Turning her head toward Jurt, she added, "Will you accompany us, Uncle?"

"Of course. Your father would never forgive me if I left you on your own," he answered.

"You're quite right, of course," Ness replied with a warm smile.

Petra became aware of a rustling sound, close to her ear—and then Pan's voice, small and faint, but clear.

"Don't brush the beetle out of your hair."

Petra just sighed. Assuming there was a universe left when this was all over, she was taking a long vacation. She turned, pretending to fuss with her robes. "Just don't tickle," she muttered.

And so they set off into the woods, their escort about them, in the direction Ness decided was most likely to result in finding her sister.

The woods closed about them, cool and green and dark. Jurt was aware that the Shieldbearer was riding to one side of them, closest to Ness. And the Lady was between him and Petra. Behind, there were five or so of the hunters, and behind them, the Maiden, escorted by the Singer.

The trees and branches pressed closer and closer about them and first one then another of them found their long robes caught...and held. For these were not ordinary trees. There were riding through what seemed to be an unending rose thicket.

"Why must the rose be hidden in the thorns?" Ness muttered. Unwilling to give up the path to her sister altogether, Ness tried a direction in which the roses continued, but with smaller and smaller thorns.

Petra muttered under her breath about one fairy tale after another and toughened her skin against the thorns.

Jurt thickened his skin, so that while the thicket might catch on his robe, it would not cut him. "What proposes to you that this isn't some barrier that Helena has summoned to keep us from finding her in situ similar to how you were discovered. Despite her upbringing, I'm sure she's more modest than you."

"I don't think Helena has the ability to do such things. Her talents appear to be much more straightforward. As for modesty, she didn't seem that modest to me. And modesty standards can be highly context-specific." Helena winked at Petra.

While calming the fawn and keeping it out of harm's way best she could, Petra smirked at Ness's remark. "I have found that to be true."

"Let me rephrase. Perhaps Helena doesn't wish to be found," Jurt whispered.

"Then she will be disappointed," Ness replied firmly, continuing on.

The branches gave way at last ... and they were in a small grove within the heart of the forest.

It seemed a natural glade, about thirty yards in diameter, and thick forest surrounded the glade on all sides. The trees themselves were huge, their branches reaching and twining together far over their heads, but now they could all see that the sky was dark and shadowy, an eternal twilight. A black squirrel ran up a branch nearby and scolded them from its high position.

In the centre was...a bower containing a couch...or a reasonable facsimile. "Mission style" might have been the best description, with a wooden frame and overstuffed brown leather cushions on the seat and the back. The frame itself had swirling designs of stars and constellations and planetary bodies, and seemed to have been...grown...into its shape rather than fashioned. The cushions seemed roughly tanned and stitched, probably hand-made from deer hide. Very, very dark deer hide, unless there was an even worse attempt at dyeing it.

The rug that covered the couch was disordered, as though someone had lately lain there.

Ness quickly dismounted and strode over to investigate the couch. She searched it thoroughly for any sign of her sister, any trinket or even a strand of hair that might have been left behind. Finding nothing, she lifted the rug and inspected it closely, even sniffing at it. Finally, she brought it back to the hunting party.

"I believe she was here. I don't know if her scent is on this, but someone used it, and they might know where she is." She handed the rug to the master of hounds.

Jurt turned to the other accompanied hunters and with some subtle shifting effected a low drone, something along the lines of bagpipe. A subtle change in pitch and he began reciting True Thomas light and air verse to amuse his companions.

Petra was too busy committing the glade and bower to memory. This would make a great room on the Queen.

There was a sudden shift and shimmer in the air—and suddenly two figures stood in the centre of the grove with them, one of each of their arms around each other.

"You have great powers of summoning," said the Lady. "For you invoked True Thomas and here he stands before you, Tam Lin himself. And the other, I judge, is your sister. Advise her that she is too generous in her embraces. Tam Lin is mine."

[continued in Cast Your Green Kirtle Owr Me]