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the Prince. She ran, but there was no place to hide. Tears of torment rose up like a flood, and she could not control the deep sobbing that swelled within her bosom. She ran until she was swallowed up by the trees in the woods. The yellow light of the moon fell upon a large, jaggedrock in a small clearing, and she collapsed beside it. She wondered at the purpose of such a cruel life and wished her existence would end.
    â€œGavinaugh!” Weston exclaimed. The hilt of the long-knife stood straight, proclaiming the actions of the executioner.
    Gavinaugh blinked and wiped away the fog of sleep.
    â€œWhat is it?” he asked groggily.
    Weston pointed, and Gavinaugh turned to see his long-knife plunged deep into the earth beside his chest. The rush within his muscles snapped him into full consciousness in an instant. He reached for his sword and searched for the enemy.
    â€œWho?” he asked. He was grateful that his life was still his own.
    â€œI don’t know, but Keanna is missing!”
    Gavinaugh quickly rose up and felt fear rise in his heart. “No!” he exclaimed. “Why would they take her and not kill us?”
    Weston shook his head. “I don’t know. They can’t be far, though, for her bed is still warm.”
    Gavinaugh became fierce. He had felt responsible for Keanna ever since meeting her weeks earlier at the slave auction. Though she had shown no tenderness at all toward him, he could not deny that his sense of obligation as her protector was transcended at times by something deeper. He fastened his sword.
    â€œWe
must
find her!” he exclaimed.
    â€œYes, but where do we look, and how many will we face?” Weston said.
    They searched the ground surrounding their camp and found no sign of a struggle. Gavinaugh was thankful for the light of the moon, but searching at night proved difficult.
    â€œThere are no tracks in the bank of the stream,” Gavinaugh said. “You search downstream and I’ll search up.”
    Weston nodded. The men separated, and Gavinaugh desperatelysearched for a sign that would indicate the direction taken by Keanna’s captors. He followed the stream for a bit and then patterned his search until he found a spot where the tree branches were pushed slightly apart. He knelt beside a single set of footprints in the green moss of the forest floor. The direction was clear, but Gavinaugh was very confused.
There are no other footprints … Did she flee from her captors?
He looked down at his knife, and an inconceivable thought began to enter his mind.
    It was quiet here, away from the stream and the waterfall. Gavinaugh stared back at the footprints and placed his hand within the indentation.
    â€œWhere are you, Keanna?” he whispered to himself, still not certain if there were enemies nearby.
    Gavinaugh heard the faint sounds of weeping filtering through the woods, and he recognized the delicate voice of Keanna. He rose up and quickened his pace to find her. He drew his sword as he came closer. Her sobbing was deep, and his apprehension grew. He searched the surroundings in all directions as he approached, but there were no enemies.
    He came to her in a clearing, where she was doubled over beside a large, jagged rock. He knelt on one knee beside her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Keanna screamed and recoiled from his touch. She backed into the rock behind her.
    â€œDon’t touch me!” she shouted between sobs. Tears streamed down her face.
    He looked at her, bewildered. She stared back, and Gavinaugh saw the torment of her heart in her face.
    â€œWhat happened. Are you hurt?” he asked tenderly. “Why did you leave me … why?” she asked.
    Gavinaugh was even further confused. “What do you mean? I have been near you since we met.”
    â€œNo! You left me to those animals that killed my parents. You could have saved all of us, but you turned away … you left me to