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at my fingertips.
She held her tongue there, licking my talon as my blood chased through my
veins. My claw had never been so gently touched.
    I swayed, and I heard a rushing in my ears as
if the sky had sent a river down.
    At last the bright red tongue unfurled and
slipped into her mouth. Letting go her hold, she set me down, uprooted my small tree, and flew over the cliff's edge. I
watched her drop the sapling to the valley floor below as she sped
across the sky. The clouds blushed in her approach, and darkened again as she
passed, like tapestry near a wavering candle.
    I was left standing, my arm still
outstretched against an invisible foe. A cool breeze played about my flesh, my
claw still damp from the dragon's kiss.

CHAPTER EIGHT
    Angel's betrayal
    AN angel leaned over me as my eyes opened
to the light, h er golden hair blowing
loose in the wind.
    "So I am come to the afterworld," I
mumbled, still half asleep. The angel's small brows tilted. I noticed then she
had no wings.
    Rain began to fall and with the rain,
awakening.
    Alive.
    A girl of an age to me. No angel. Who was she, then?
    "Are you the shepherd's daughter?"
I asked. She began to walk. I followed her up the rocky path, my thoughts
scattering like startled birds. The dragon. A female. She saw my claw and kissed it.
    My legs ached and my belly growled with
hunger. We drank at a mountain brook. By the time we crossed it, I'd formed a
plan.
    Father Hugh's map and food were in my
saddlebag. I'd find the trail I'd run down last night, slip into the copse
where Rollo was tied, and ride him north to Columba's Tear. The waters there

would heal my hand. I would be free. But how was I to find
the trail when I'd only seen it in the dark?
    The sharp wind caught my cloak as I followed
the girl along the path, thinking.
    A voice cried,
"Ah, you've put yourself to some use, Kit-cat!"
    Demetra! The girl had led me to the wolves!
    Mother rushed from the cave, her face
mottled, her eyes red and swollen with tears. "Ah, God, Rosie! I thought the dragon—"
    I did not stay to hear the rest but flew away
from her.
    "Rosie! Don't run off again!"
    I stumbled back down the muddy path, running
fast and hard. But they caught my sodden cloak and dragged me screaming back
into the viper's den.
    "You're back home now," said Demetra, tying a leather strap about my waist and securing
it to a metal ring on the wall. Home? This wasn't
home. With Ali's help she'd pulled me down a maze of darkened tunnels to this
small room.
    "Leave us, Ali," said Demetra.
    Damp with sweat and breathing hard, I tried
to regain strength for battle as Demetra sped about with wooden bowls and
stinking herbs. Mother entered my cell.
    Demetra turned. "The
cost before the cure."
    Mother placed her silver on the table between
a loaf of bread and a carving knife. Demetra snatched the coins and dropped
them into her leather sack.
    The queen peeled off her golden gloves and
sat beside me

while Demetra crushed dried mustard seeds in her mortar
bowl. The room filled with a pungent autumn smell as she worked.
    All was silence but for
the rhythm of mortar and pestle. Then wiping her hands on her wool kirtle,
Demetra left the cell.
    "Untie me quick, Mother. Take me
home."
    She patted my arm. "No, Rosie. This
woman will heal your mark. She has great powers."
    "Dark powers!" I spat.
    Mother flinched. "It's time to take this
cure. No one else has healed you. If there were another way.
. . You must be brave, Rosie."
    There were tears in Mother's eyes as she said
this, but I felt no pity for her. She could free me if she chose.
    In the copper
firelight, I eyed the knife next to a loaf of bread on the nearby table. Whilst Mother turned to dab her
eyes, I reached for the silver glint, but Demetra swept in and caught me by the
wrist.
    "You must be hungry, child." She
let go her hold then clapped her hands twice. Ali appeared, received her
orders, then returned with honey and a horn of goat's
milk. The hag tied my wrists firmly on