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hill with faint regard for their horses legs, and this time when Rustle left them behind some of them still pursued.
    She galloped on a loose rein, sticking to the sanded paths where the chances of a bad spill on ice were lessened. Junk lifted her head into the crisp wind and stretched out, delighting in speed, rounding the curve . . . Rustle had one long moment of horrified realization as Junk hit the rope stretched across the path and she tried to tuck and save her head . . .
    She came back to awareness of a piercing pain in her head, and another in her crotch. She couldn't breath, gasping as the big weight on her body shoved forward and back on her. A man.
    Damn missed my ow n deflowering there, somewhere , she thought in a rather academic analysis through the daze and pain. She felt the power flowing out of her and into the man, but with her bare buttocks on the ground she pulled in more power. Could she get enough to kill him? He yelled triumphantly and shoved into her, the power sloshing back into her. Channel . She reached for Earth again, and this time sent the power back to the world. But not all of it. She kept her own reserves full while she drained the man until he rolled off of her. He collapsed and the other men laughed and crowded in. She sucked power out of the first one to touch her down there, but not fast enough to stop him. She pulled in more from the Earth and sent it into him, more and more, all she could handle. She wrapped up her pain and anger and threw it into him, and he cried out and shoved away from her, frantically. She turned the power on one of the men holding her arms spread out, and as he yelled and let go she rolled to hit the man on the other side. She was shoved face down into the frozen ground and another man mounted her from the rear. She was getting disoriented from the power flows, and tried to hold onto power, to anchor herself and see what she needed to do. The man came, and this time she channeled it all. She sent it around her, didn't let it touch her, drained him dry. He collapsed on top of her.
    "C'mon man, let us have her, its our turn!" Two men untouched and unaware that their sprawled friends had been injured. She pulled power from the ground, lying limp as the survivors pulled the last man off of her. Couldn't they see he was dead? The two nearest men were too busy arguing over who got her next. But some of the others were noticing, their voices alarmed, retreating.
    One of then flipped her over and shoved in. Damn it, where was the other one? She needed to get them both . . . she cried out as her torn tissues were jabbed again, and swung her fist at him. "Grab her, damn it, she's woken up." The second man grabbed her fist and she sent a jolt of power into him. He dropped away. She pulled power and filled the last man, over filled him. He was practically glowing, his face puffy and red, sweating gasping, grabbing his chest and rolling off of her.
     
    She staggered to her feet, shaking in horror, and very quickly, tears. "Damn, damn, damn." Six men lying on the ground, some twitching, more not. Fading rattle of hooves, some others had fled. She pulled up her split riding skirt, fumbling with the ripped waist. Then she saw Junk.
    Standing on three legs, trembling and sweating. "Oh no, oh Junk." Around her pounding head she tried remembering healing spells, spells that resonated with broken bones . . .
    :: MOTHER! ::
    She patted the mare. Listened.
    :: MOTHER! ::
    :: What's wrong? :: Never had certainly picked up the vibrations of horror from her.
    :: Junk has a broken leg. Did you bring any of that wine? ::
    :: Yes. I'm coming. What is wrong with you? ::
    :: Hit my head. ::
    Her head was pounding, and she was shivering.
    :: The path past the pagoda, then split left for the lake. ::
    She felt really, really awful. The dark reached up and grabbed her.
    She vaguely woke when they found her, enough to blink at them and try to tell them how many fingers they were holding up, but