Through the Woods

I am leading 4 of my real-life friends through the woods. I'm not myself. Instead, I'm a guy. The friends I'm leading through the woods are all women who are close to me.

We're all dressed kind of odd. I'm wearing pants that feel like thick leather, but it feels like I've worn them a lot. They're not worn out, but they've been worn to a malleability that makes them comfortable. They are also lined with a soft fabric. I have on a shirt that is long enough to be more of a nightshirt. It's also normally very soft, but it has been wet with dirty water, so the parts that don't rest against my skin have stiffened up as if starched. Over that, I've got a hard leather vest, and several straps and belts. I'm carrying a bunch of small pouches full of dried herbs, stones, feathers, and other odd things, weapons (a bow and a sword,) and a backpack. I also have a wide-brimmed hat strapped to the backpack. My hair is in several braids, all tied together in the back using a thin piece of leather. I have on leather boots with leather soles. They feel soft, but my feet feel protected anyway. The outsides of the boots are wet, but my feet are dry.

My friends are dressed as oddly. They are all wearing pants, but not as well used. One friend's pants are of leather that has been beaten between stones so that it is softer. The other two seem to be wearing canvas that is somewhat well worn but not a lot. None of them fit, so they all have belts on to hold the pants up, and the legs have all been rolled up too. I have the impression that the pants are borrowed. All of them have long, well cared-for hair tied back with a series of metal rings.

The girls are all wearing shirts similar to mine, and vests or jackets of leather. Each has another belt over the shirt, and each has a dagger and several little pouches like mine, and all are wearing leather boots, though theirs appear to be in much newer than mine. Their boots do not seem to be holding up as well. I am worried about the condition of their feet, but the situation cannot be helped. The women have backpacks, but their backpacks are not as full as mine. They have discarded items that they thought necessary before leaving, but which they didn't want to carry after lugging them over the first mile or so.

We aren't exactly running away from something, but we still kind of are. It is more that there is somewhere we  need to travel to, and we know that we are going to be pursued by someone who doesn't want us to get there, just as soon as it is discovered that we have gone. We have a head start, and I feel a sense of urgency to put as much distance behind us as possible in the short time that we have. I expect whoever it is to start coming after us when day breaks. I am pushing the girls to move faster than they like. They are mad at me about that, too. I realize that they don't understand the danger.

We are not on an actual path, but moving through dense underbrush. I am using landmarks to tell where we are and where we need to go. My charges are not liking the route. I've just explained that we're not going where they think we are, and they are really upset with me for several reasons, including my having been dishonest with them in about the direction of our travels.

I know that our followers will be bringing dogs, and we need to throw them off the scent. There are two potential directions they will suspect, and I've taken the "wrong" one to get us where we need to go. The "wrong" one leads directly where I told the girls yesterday that we'd be headed this evening. I made sure to leave our scent all over that path. I spat on the ground and dropped crumbs as we walked. I made sure we did not stray far from the path for "personal" breaks, as the women called them. They had been annoyed at the lack of privacy, but when I reminded them that bears live in the woods, they had decided to not get too far away from the guy with the bow and sword.

After about three hours on the path, we had started across an old and somewhat treacherous rope bridge, then tied ourselves to it on one side of the middle. Then, I cut the bridge until it couldn't hold our weight. When it broke, we slammed into the side of the cliff, just above a rock ledge that looked solid from above, but actually had a huge crack in it that led to a cave. My hope was that because there had been previous discussion about the bridge needing repairs, those chasing us would think that we'd broken it under our weight.

From the ledge with the crack, we'd gone into the cave, traveled downward, and come out into the stream below. After traveling "sideways" in the water across the distance between where we made it look like we were going to where we actually are going, we are now walking through somewhat dense underbrush that includes plants we don't want to touch with our skin. The girls tell me why they are so angry with me for deceiving them about the direction we are taking. Each of them has told a close, personal friend or loved one that we are going to the other place.

I remind them that I had told them not to tell anyone where we are going. They have put their loved ones in danger with that knowledge. When asked, they will think they know, and that belief will betray them under interrogation. They will be tortured until they give up that information. The person who wants us stopped would have been able to easily discern if they did not know anything, but not if they've been given the wrong information. I realize that three of the people I am told have been given the wrong information aren't going to hold up under much adversity, and I figure that there won't be much of a delay. I am sure that even though they'll take time to extract information from the girls' loved ones, those who will come after us will still leave shortly after sunrise.

The sun is going down and the woods are getting dark, but it's a full moon, and I can see well enough to navigate. It sounds like the night time animals are waking. I know of a few which might be dangerous, and I am watching for them. I know ways to handle them, but would rather not be taken by surprise.

At this point, we are actually headed for a safe spot which is between our current location and our intended destination. It's a small cabin which is built mostly into the side of a big hill. There is a tunnel from the back of the cabin through the hill to the other side, to be used in case of discovery. The front of the cabin actually looks like a huge evergreen tree, and the hill mostly covers the rest of the building. There are windows, but from the outside they look like deposits of some kind of mineral, and no one can see into them. There is a chimney (the back of the fireplace is the exit to the tunnel) but from the outside, it just looks like a pile of rocks. The design of the chimney causes smoke to be dispersed as it comes out, so that there has to be a really big fire for it to be visible from beyond a few hundred feet, and from that distance, the woods hide it. The location is in a space where there is nearly always a light breeze, and that helps with the effect. The size of the hill is deceptively small. Much of the actual building is underground.

The whole thing was built by members of my father's side of my family, and has been used for generations as a hideout during times of political upheaval. The area is surrounded by brambles and poisonous plants, but there is also magic surrounding it designed both to make the area unattractive to others, and cause it to be hard to remember for any visitor but us. Any unwanted visitor approaching the place would at first feel uneasy, then very nervous. There would be an undefined aversion to being there, with a sense of being watched and a sense of dread. If the intruder remained or continued to approach the area, he or she would eventually feel distinct fear and might even imagine a specific person or animal previously encountered being nearby and waiting to strike. In those susceptible to magic, that fear would grow into a sense of panic that would send the person fleeing at top speed until he or she was totally outside the range of the spell. After that, the aversion to going that direction would be increased, but at the same time, the individual would not be able to consciously remember or describe where he or she had been. As a result, most travelers and predatory animals just subconsciously avoided the area, and no one seeking it had ever been able to locate our hide-out.

I lead the girls through a few miles of underbrush, until we come to a thick hedge with a short, but very thick tree in the middle of it. The hedge is not too thick to go through, but we can't see the other side, where I know that the ground ends in a high cliff. The tree, short from our side, is actually over 80 feet tall, and we're near the top of it.

I rope us all together, and instruct the girls to begin climbing with me down the tree. They are appalled. They do not want to rip the pants they borrowed, mess up their hair, scratch their skin, and so on. I ask them if they want to be ripped apart by the frenzied hunting dogs that will surely be pursuing us soon, and point out that though all of the measures we've taken will delay the men who will be after us, but there is one tracker among them who will eventually find our path. I have a mental image of this man. He is a few inches taller than me, with a bulkier build than me (and I know that though I am more agile and have more endurance, but he can lift more and hit harder) with light colored hair and a nose that is crooked from having been broken in a fight with me. There is an aspect of that fight that is one reason why this man hates me personally, but it doesn't come to mind. I only know I don't want to have to fight him up close again, because I don't want to have to kill him, and if I don't, he'll kill me. The thought must do something to the expression on my face, because the girls quiet down enough to hear me repeat "just do as I am telling you, for your own safety."

We start down the tree. It isn't easy going, but there are enough branches to get us most of the way down unharmed. At one point along the way, one of the girls loses her footing and falls, but the rope holds and I am able to pull her back to the tree. We are still a good 20 feet off of the ground when we run out of branches. However, at this point, rocks jut out from the side of the cliff, and we are able to get a grip on them. We can climb down most of the rest of the way before we have to let go and fall a few feet to the ground. The girls are now scratched and dirty, irritable and scared, and out of breath. I have to get them to the cabin before they poop out on me. I have to admit to myself that I didn't expect these pampered ladies to make it this far, so I can't be annoyed with them for their attitude. I'm a little scared myself, anyway. I know it's too soon, but I keep thinking that the wind is carrying the sound of dogs barking. After letting them rest a moment and settle down, I tell the girls to come on, we have to keep moving. I have a bad feeling that he has me figured out.

To the dismay of the girls, I walk us up the middle of another stream before we cross to the other side, where I spot wolf tracks. I can hear a low growl. We pause there for a moment, and I pull a flower from one of my packs. I eat it, and it makes my throat feel scratchy and tight, but it lets me hear differently. A deep voice from the direction of the growling asks who we think we are, trespassing on his land. I answer in a voice that sounds different to my ears than to my mind. I know what I am saying, but I sound like a dog. I say  that I am the high walker (a name I know has been given to me by a wolf who marvels that I walk on my back feet and fight only with the front ones) and I am here to ask the return of a favor. I remember treating a whole litter of cubs for a potentially deadly illness, saving their lives. The wolf steps forward, and I see that it is in fact my friend Long Scar (so named because of the bald area along his side where a bear's claw had sliced him.) Two of the girls gasp and grab my shoulders. It occurs to me that it's a good thing I don't have to defend them right now, as Long Scar jumps up and slams his shoulder into my chest, nearly knocking me down. He is happy to see me. He sits and grins, wagging his tail. The girls seem to think he is going to bite because he's showing his teeth, and they hear him barking. I tell them to be quiet, then realize they can't understand me. I must sound angry, though, because they all shut up and take a step back.

He asks me who they are and why I have brought them here. I explain that they are part of a pack that is on friendly terms with my pack. They are relatives of the pack's leader. Another pack has pretended to be friendly with that pack, and has taken over their lair under false pretenses. Since humans cannot smell deceit, the deed was done before anyone could detect it. The bad pack is after something that has protected my pack for a long time, back through the generations on my mother's side of the family. It has the power to do great good, and great harm. Though my family can use it naturally, the object cannot be used by everyone. It is important to us because it is an integral part of our relationship with the Creator, and the rites and rituals that we perform to celebrate that relationship. We feed, protect, and love it, and it feeds, protects, and heals us. We cannot use it to cause harm, because we do not have a connection to that part of its power.

The bad pack wants to use the object as a weapon. That power can only be understood by blood members of the pack from which the girls come, on their father's side. The girls are not blood members of my pack, or the bad pack, just of a race that is distantly related to the two. That race cannot connect with the object in the way that we do, but they can "find" the power that the bad pack seeks, tap into it, and draw from it to fuel magic. They normally don't, because no good comes of that. Only in times of great need is that side of the object's power ever touched, and then it is used sparingly to avoid "darkening" the object.

These girls are special, because their mother was a blood member of our pack. That makes them uniquely able to connect with the object and tap all of its powers. Instead of just drawing energy for magic, they can actually use the object's destructive power directly. Of this, they are only partly aware. They know they are fleeing someone who wants to use their ability for evil, but not to what extent.

It is my job to get them to a safe place so that the bad pack cannot capture them and force them to call upon that power. We are traveling to where the object is kept, so that they can use it to stop the bad pack from causing a war. My people are hoping that this can be accomplished without tapping the object's dark side, but are willing to use it if necessary.

I tell Long Scar about the fighting that will happen in the woods, in his lands, if I cannot stop the war. He asks me what he can do. I tell him to gather his pack, and mark the ground all around the stream, up to the tallest tree by the cliff, and back down the other side. I want to hide our scent from the dogs. He asks if I want him to kill the dogs, and I tell him no. They are just dogs. They are not guilty of anything. I tell him to watch out for the man with the sunny hair, that he is mean and strong and devious. He is scarier than a bear because he can attack from a distance, like me, but unlike me he is willing to kill without reason. I tell my friend to just hide the scent, and then hide his pack. He wishes me the blessings of the Creator, and I wish the same to him.

I drink from a flask at my hip. It tastes like whiskey, but does not burn. My throat feels normal again, and I tell the girls we have to move now. We can hear Long Scar howling, and his pack howling in return. In my mind's eye I see several others, and know their names. I hope they will be safe. To me, these are beloved and cherished friends, and I would not call upon them for help if I had any other choice. I know they are glad for the chance to protect their lands, and that they would be in danger if we did not try to stop the impending war, but I feel guilty for bringing this danger to their doorstep. I silently pray for their protection as we trudge through more mud and brush.

More time passes as we travel. There are areas where I make us turn and move a different direction after spotting a landmark (rocks, dips in the land, and so on) that reminds me of dangerous pitfalls nearby. There are other cliffs that are hard to spot, and there are areas where caverns under the ground have thin cover which will not hold our weight. There is a grizzly bear's territory near us, and she will have cubs right now. Even though I can communicate with her, she'll be grouchy and hungry, and may decide our friendship is not worth more than our combined calories. She is not as understanding of human affairs as the wolves, and will be angry with me for bringing visitors to her woods, especially since we are being followed by hunters. It is best to avoid her. I also decide it is best to not tell the girls why we keep zigzagging. I let them think it is to confuse the people following us.

We finally come to the first landmark on the border of the spell that protects the hideout. The girls are complaining of nervous tension and slight digestive unease. I insist that they all take my hands for a moment, explaining that I need to exempt them from the spell. I verbally welcome them into my home and take them under my protection. I invite them in, and I take a step back across the outer border of the spell, drawing them in with me. Immediately, all of them visibly relax, and breathe a sigh of relief. One looks at me and asks what that was, and I explain the effects of the spell. I tell them that even with the invitation, they still won't later be able to remember the location of the hideout, but while they are with me, they won't be subject to the spell's other effects.

We travel for nearly another mile before coming to the tree. Again, we have to climb to get to the door, a large knot-hole in the side, hidden from outside view by branches. This climb is a bit harder, but the girls are able to make it. By the time we get inside, they seem really wiped out. I show them a room with a creek running through it. There is a deep dip in the side of the floor. The water from the creek flows into that dip, stirs around, and flows back out again through a second opening near the first, back into the creek. A spell makes the water in that small pool warm. They will find the heat and the minerals in the water very soothing and healing. While they use the room, I exit and begin preparations to activate our wartime protections, measures which do not extend far beyond the hill, but which are much more aggressive than the aversion spell. Intruders will find themselves pursued by invisible assailants, set on fire, set upon by hoards of biting insects, and if they persist, trapped as the ground beneath their feet suddenly becomes soft and boggy and the plants become thorny and thick. Within the keep, an alarm will sound in my room if anyone enters the first border, and another will sound throughout the building if anyone crosses the second.

By the time I have finished activating our protection magic, the girls have vacated the bath, and I take a turn, entering the water with my shirt and undergarments still on, then stripping down and wringing them out, and laying them on a hot rock to dry. This is how I do my laundry, at least when I get the opportunity to do it at all.

From there, I go into another room where there is a bed, a chair, and a desk. I know that at some point, I showed the girls to other rooms like this so that they could sleep, and told them to sleep light (ready to travel) with their weapons at their sides. I have replaced what they were carrying with weapons that have some magic to them that makes the blades poisonous to anyone intending to harm their wielders.

I lay down fully dressed, with my pack, my bow, and my quiver on the chair next to the bed, within arms reach. My room is closest to the entrance, with only the kitchen between me and the door. The girls are in the rooms adjacent to mine. Behind those are other rooms, and then there is the living room with the big fireplace and my favorite escape tunnel. There are others, but I like that one best because of where it opens out.

I sleep momentarily, dreaming about a loved one who I really, really miss. The dream makes me happy and sad, because I haven't seen her face in a long time, and I have the sense that it will be another long time before I see her again. Because I can see and touch her, I know that I am dreaming. She senses my heartache, and tells me not to be sad, that in this place I will always be able to find her. Then, she warns me that I am being hunted in ways I have not considered. I ask if my charges are in danger, and she tells me, only from each other. She giggles. The sound is musical and joyful, but it also is the end of the dream, as I awaken to hear footsteps outside my door.

My first thought is that someone from my clan has come to the keep, but the steps sound hesitant and kind of sneaky. I wonder if it is an enemy who has found a way to bypass the alarms. Fearing the worst, I sneak from my bed toward the door with my sword ready. Just as I am about to try the handle, the door slowly opens, and the oldest girl's head pokes in. I barely restrain myself from striking her, then tell her off about the danger she has put herself in by sneaking into my room. Had I been just a bit less aware, she might have been killed before I fully awakened. The entire time I'm telling her off, I can't help but be distracted by the sight of her hair. She has taken it down, and it lays around her shoulders like a regal cloak. In the soft light from the candle she carries, it shines like strands of solid gold.

She looks worried, but not about my lecture. I ask what has brought her to my room in the middle of the night, and she tells me she fears for the person she thought she told where we were going. She asks if I know what will happen, and I know she is looking for reassurance, but I don't have any. I tell her what I know of our enemy's methods. He is an inept torturer, but he is cruel. He will inflict pain, but if that doesn't work, he will humiliate, and then he will dominate. The truth is, if the handmaid she spoke to does not give her up quickly, the torturer will soon turn to violation of her person. I ask the girl how loyal her handmade is, and she hangs her head. When I ask how tough the lady is, my charge tells me that she won't give up the information for minor pain, but if he breaks bones, she will. I know that after the information is extracted, our enemy will turn the lady loose because she is female. He doesn't understand that women are more dangerous than men.

The girl is heartbroken to know that she has caused her confidant such pain, but relieved to know that her actions have not led to the woman's death. She looks dejected, and for a moment she tears up, but then she regains her composure. Somehow, this makes her look even more beautiful to me.

I tell her that What's done is done, and she must remember that no permanent harm will come to her maid. For now, she must get some rest. We have a long road to travel tomorrow, just as far as we did today, with more danger than we have faced so far. She nods, turns, and leaves, and I lay back down. I do not feel bad about being honest with her. It is vital that my charges learn to follow my instructions. Any one of them, by not doing so, could get us all killed. Still, I wish I could have offered her something more comforting than I did.

I am almost back to sleep when there is a soft knocking at my door. Grumbling, I get up and cautiously answer, ready for an attack . Instead, I find another of the girls standing outside my door. I am not really surprised. Thinking that she has come to ask about her loved one, I start to tell her it is too late to get worried now, but she interrupts me. She all ready knows what she has gotten her bodyguard into. Instead of leaving him to hang around, she had sent him on ahead to the village she thought was our destination. She has a way of communicating with him, sending messages through small birds that she can get to come to her. However, she cannot do that from indoors, and she could not do it while traveling. She wants to try it now, but tells me that the birds will not come to her here in the keep, even when she stepped out onto the tree.

I am shocked. I can't believe that after all we've been through, she went outside without me. What if we were followed? The moment I utter, "Dammit, woman!" the same thought begins to dawn upon her. She could easily have been shot while standing on the branch before the door. Her bodyguard is a smart man. He will not give himself away by traveling in the open. He'll go a distance, and then go into hiding, just as we have. He will not go directly to the location where she told him to meet her, but will first check it out from a distance, and approach with caution. Chasing him would cause the enemy needless delay. I know their leader well enough to be sure that no time will be wasted following the bodyguard. Moreover, if anyone else at home knows she can communicate by bird, they will be watching for that, and anything she sends may lead them straight to us, or to him. I trace a symbol upon my door, then tell her that I cannot allow her to do that again, and that if she attempts to open any more doors or windows, an alarm will go off in my room and I will know. I can see that she is heartbroken by this news, but she does not argue with me. She simply endures my short outburst, nods, and apologizes for not thinking.

I realize that her bodyguard may be more to her than an employee. I make a note to discuss that with her later. There may be a way to bring him into the city of my people once we're there.

At that moment, I notice that her dark hair, long until we arrived here, is now nearly as short as a baby's hair. I point it out, and ask if she is injured. She tells me she cut it for ease of travel, because it kept getting caught and pulled in the underbrush. Unlike my first visitor, she has also kept on her boots. I commend her on the wisdom of her choices, and say that she is learning. I remind her that her bodyguard, another friend of mine, is very wise and very experienced, and that he will find his way to her. Reassurance is not what she sought from me, but it is all I can give her. With that, she leaves me to return to sleep.

I doze off again, and again begin to dream of the loved one I am missing. It feels like she is a family member, and she does look like me, though she is shorter and much less serious. She is someone I turn to for advice, and also for reassurance, but she is not my mother.

Before I can even be glad to see her again, she points, and tells me to look behind me. I turn, and awaken as another of the girls I'm protecting approaches my bed. Before I fully waken, I have her on her back on the floor with the tip of my sword pressed against her throat.

The feeling of her soft body beneath my knee jolts me into the waking world, and I finally see who I have tackled. She looks terrified, eyes wide and wet, mouth agape as the breath she is holding in wavers between an asthma attack and a scream. I jump backward and land on my butt. I am embarrassed without cause, then angry. I didn't do anything wrong! This is MY room. Why is she even in here? I voice the question, showing my irritation, as I move into a kneeling position to help her up. She won't take my hand.

She sits up, drawing her knees to her chest. She apologizes for intruding, then buries her face in her pants and sobs. Now what am I supposed to do? I didn't mean to make her cry. Every swear I know comes to mind, and I'm inclined to say them all, but I don't because I'm sure that will make this worse. I pat her on the back, and tell her to cut it out. This isn't any way to get an answer to whatever it is that got her up in the middle of the night. I just want to know what it is that she needs.

She struggles to gain control of her emotions. I notice that her tears have stuck her long eyelashes together. When she looks at me, I notice how long her eyelashes are, and how deep her eyes are. They look golden in the candlelight, with iridescent streams of silver flowing down her cheeks. She looks beautiful, vulnerable, and enchanting. For the moment, all I want is to see a happier expression on her face, because the one she wears now is tearing at my heart. Before I realize it, I have reached out and wiped the tears away with my fingers. Having done that, I'm even more uncomfortable with the situation, and have no idea what to say to her to explain my committing such an act of familiarity. My face feels like it is on fire. I quickly wipe the tears on my shirt. I mean to ask her the purpose of her visit, but at first, nothing comes out except for nonsense syllables. Finally, I ask if she is here because she's worried about the person she told where she thought she was going. She tells me no, she hadn't spoken directly to anyone. She had felt the need to deceive, so she had left a fake note for her tutor, claiming that she was going to visit her family's summer home. There is no one from whom to extract information. There isn't even anyone at that residence. She isn't here over that.

I ask why she has come to my room, and she tells me she has been feeling awful about complaining and generally being a wimp throughout the trip. She has been thinking of the situation, and has realized that I've risked my life to get them where they are going. She wants to apologize for making the trip so difficult. This seems odd to me, because out of the group, she's been the toughest. She is the only one who did not complain about the climbing or even just about having to wear men's clothes, and only once mentioned that her boots weren't keeping out the water when we waded to throw off the dogs. She didn't seem quite as scared of Long Scar, either, and now that I think of it, when the others all jumped, I am pretty sure I heard her cuss mildly, instead. I tell her that she hasn't done so bad, that I'm pretty confident in her ability to finish the trip. I'm glad she has some understanding of the danger, but I tell her how important tonight's rest is, because of the road ahead. She looks disappointed, which confuses me. If all that was all she was worried about, shouldn't she feel better about it now?

She leans forward like she is going to stand up, and I can see right down the front of her shirt. She didn't tie it when she put it back on, and it's open down to the middle of cleavage it wasn't made to hold. Hoping she hasn't noticed the angle of my eyes, I look away. I know I am red faced again, and I feel as guilty as if I had groped her like a drunken lout. Dammit, why did she do that? I can't even think now. I hesitate, thinking I'll let her stand before I do. My only hope is that she doesn't look me in the face before she leaves. If she does, I won't be able to not look guilty.

Instead, she leans over and kisses me. I just about jump out of my skin. What on earth has possessed this woman?

I am left completely speechless for a moment. She watches me, and I can see that she's nervous. She wears the face of one who has thrown the dice and is only afterward wondering if he has the coins to cover the bet if he loses. I think that she is on the verge of another crying fit if my response is not what she had intended, but this is not right. I am supposed to be a protector. What is wrong with these women, coming to my room in the middle of... well, it isn't night... but coming here instead of taking the few hours we have to rest?

Before I can say anything, there is yet another knock on the door. It swings open, and there stands my fourth charge. Her gaze darts back and forth between me and her friend. She stutters for a moment, and then runs away down the hall. My confused look is lost upon the lady in my room, who jumps up and runs after her friend, calling her name.

Great. Now they're both upset, and I don't even know why. I rise to go find out what the problem is, when the first alarm goes off. I gather my weapons and glance down the hallway. The girls are both entering one of the rooms. Good. If I know where they are, it'll be easier to protect them. I wait in silence, thinking that maybe the second alarm won't go off, but it does. Then, there is noise from outside. The defenses have been activated.

Looking out the front window, I can see that there are men on the ground. Because of the way the windows are made, I can see out, but all they see is a deposit of rocks. Several of the men are on fire. Three have arrows through their chests. The plants around our assailants are weaving upward around their legs, growing long thorns, and pulling the men down. Other men are fighting invisible opponents whose attacks they cannot predict. The battle eliminates nearly all of the warriors. All that is left is the one with the vendetta against me, and he is investigating our tree. He seems frightened, but he's staying anyway. It feels like if I just work at it, I can enhance the power of the magic of this place enough to break his willpower, and he will run.

Set into the wall is a huge wooden horn. The mouthpiece faces inside the keep. The bell faces the outdoors, but is covered over by grass. Putting my lips to the mouthpiece, I blow into the horn. I can feel it vibrating. My assailant stops what he is doing. A look of sheer terror crosses his face, but it is paired with grim determination. I can hear those on the ground screaming, but many of them cannot get up. I have to pause for breath, then I blow the horn again. This time, a dark stain appears on the front of his pants. He takes a few steps back, but does not run. The third time I blow the horn, he can't take it any more. I'm sure he knows it's my doing, and not real danger, but at this point the terror will have painful physical effects on his body. He stumbles away from the hill, running off into the woods. I know that he will continue running away for at least a mile, and then he will not remember how to get back . I think that eventually, he'll find his way back here, but we for now, we actually do have some time to rest. After continuing to blow the horn for a few moments just in case, I turn to let the women know that we are safe. There they are, behind me. Two of them look worried. The other two appear to be angry, but their emotions seem to be directed at each other. I start to speak to them, but the room fades away.

At this point, I wake up. I've had variations on this dream before, all with the same set of friends. Sometimes I get past the keep. Sometimes the attack on the keep ends with me outside fighting against the people chasing us. I've never dreamed about getting to the place where we are ultimately headed.
On a side note, the friend who cut her hair in the dream is the only one with short hair in real life, and thought that isn't a recent development, it wasn't a long time ago, either.