Magdalena wiped back a tear as she looked over the crowd of people waiting to hear her story.

"Children… here we begin again."


Part Two

The Second Night


Their eyes were glued to each other. Ceallach watched her warily, and she did the same. He studied her white blonde hair dripping down her back, and the arrow that pierced her side. Meek green eyes stared at him through the gloom.

At the same time, she was watching him. Dark red hair, blue eyes, and a smeltering of freckles across his face. Their eyes were locked, neither wanted to move. She eyed the dagger in his shoulder and wondered if she had purposely missed her mark. She reached down a hand to touch the arrow and the blood that had spilled.

"You must be Ceallach," she whispered.

He nodded edgily, then watched in horror as she sighed and collapsed to the ground.

With a gasp he yanked out the dagger, and collapsed to the ground as well with unruly agony. He groaned, and did an army crawl towards the entrance of the tent, where her body lay. He leaned over to look at her face.

She breathed raggedly through crusted lips, her breath slow and forceful. He could feel her seize up as he approached. Her eyes flicked to his face, and his icy heart melted when he saw her expression. She stared up at him resolutely. He took the bloody dagger and wrapped her hands around it, then collapsed by her side.

Of all the Downsmen he hadn't cared about killing, this one woman was like a thorn in his heart, she would not let him go, and the pain was more than he could bear. He remembered dimly hearing the muffled shouts of his men drawing near. He squeezed her hands and she squeezed his, and they both closed their eyes to let fate do what it must.