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The first leaves of autumn drifted down from their heavenly lofts, swirling around the swift ascent of the pounding that signaled death more finite than the frost of winter upon the land. Even in winter, life would teem in hidden oases, but the hearts riding forth were chilled more than the iciest waters. They had no intent of allowing their unchecked fury to remain in the safety of their spirits. All the lands would celebrate in their exodus.

Fair beasts, frequenting those normally peaceful woods, scampered in an unknown fear from the brash assault on their home. Long ago all evil had been cast out of the woods by powerful wizards in their purging of the lands, and none lived now who could recall that time, save the elves whose lifespan made a human's seem but an echo.

A hush fell over the vicinity, a silence that halted even the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. One set of eyes, hanging upside down beneath a long branch, studied the riders intently. Both green eyes sparkled with a strange glow, and as soon as the riders had passed, the squirrel flipped elegantly to the ground. Giving a small tremor, the squirrel paused for a moment, and its fur began to thin out. Bewildered animals stood to gaze at the strange sight, and some sprinted off in terror. Now with an elongating back and pale skin becoming visible beneath the all but gone fur coat, the squirrel, if it could still be named that, stood upon its hind legs.

Darkness reclaimed the land, but it was a peaceful shadow that rolled over the hills, much unlike the recent clouds of despair that had hung over the land. The stars shone and the moon lit the ground in a gentle wave of serenity. Even the boggling stench of death had receded to a tolerable point, and the fresh sea air would replace it within an hour.

            Jor glanced over to where Marafel lay, face so peaceful even after the night’s hardships. She lay on her side, curled up against the chill that Jor hardly felt. Still, even with his armor off, his other numerous layers kept him quite warm. Untying his cloak, he strode over to where she slept. Her body gave a small shudder and her arms trembled slightly. Jor knelt down and wrapped the thick leather hide around her while propping her head upon one of the softer riding packs.

            A tear slid down his face, unable to stop himself at the sight of her. Now he trembled as he stroked her face, lifting a lock of hair from her face. A bird sang in the distance, a soft noise that was answered by another. And so an hour passed, with Jor sitting by Marafel, always gazing upon her silky face while listening to the heartening song of the birds.

            With the passing of midnight Jor drifted off into sleep, dreaming of nothing, but resting little. When the sun rose again, he felt tired beyond anything he had felt before, as if the energy was a well, empty from yesterday’s battle. A chipper Marafel greeted him, waking him to the smell of bacon over a campfire. “Morning Jor!” He nodded and mumbled a greeting in return.

            The song that had kept his attention for so very long last night had been replaced by the usual chirping of a myriad of creatures. He had nary time enough to wonder what had happened to the pair of birds when Marafel shook his shoulder again. “Dozing off again? We do have an awfully long day ahead of us Jor. We should leave within an hour. And… thank you. I slept more peacefully, even under the circumstances, knowing that you were there. I’m sorry for trying to get away.”

            Jor shrugged. “Just doing my gentlemanly duties, ma’am.” He winked and took a piece of bacon off one of the cooking stones. It was tougher than leather but he smiled and swallowed the piece whole when she wasn’t looking. “It’s good.” She in turn smiled and offered a quick thank-you. Instead of finishing the meal he stuffed the rest in one of the packs for use as a substitute for jerky, should they run out.

            Tarrying not, they packed the few items left to them onto their mounts. They bridled and saddled their horses within minutes and set off for the nearest village, leaving Amaren behind them forever. Jor hoped that Garen had made it out alive, and knowing him, he very easily was yet breathing. Garen knew more about tracking than the rest of them, and would locate them in time. Vamrule had a different scenario laid before him. His post had been surrounded by hundreds of the creatures as Jor and Marafel were fleeing. A last glimpse had shown that the house still stood against the creatures as several archers were furiously loosing their arrows in an attempt to thin down the numbers.

            Many questions were laid before Jor, and he knew not where to begin. Who had sent these creatures and why? More importantly how had an army of these abominations been raised? The borders were secure, or secure enough to at the very least notice an army of thousands of these creatures marching inland. A sickening thought came over Jor and he asked Marafel about it. “What if those things did not come from outside the nation?”

            Marafel remained silent, pondering the very same question herself. Several more clouds lined the sky today, though there were hardly enough to cast a shadow. The rarely used path they tread on now was thicketed in many places with tree limbs and dense growths of weeds. Few of the paving stones were visible now after so much disuse. It was as if time itself had forgotten this part of the world, allowing it to be erased from the annals of history.

            A hundred years ago this road had been traveled often by merchants and travelers, perhaps due only to the fact that the royalty traveled on routes constructed specially for them. With the city of Amaren long abandoned, this part of the nation of Jórune had fallen into ruin. Once standing proud and mighty, Amaren’s towers and parapets had crumbled. It had been a mystery so very long ago when Amaren had been abandoned. Now the tale was used to horrify the unruly youth, or as a tale told in whispers around flasks of ale in the local tavern.

            The day passed with but a few words spoken between the two of them as they wound their way closer back to Drashagnor. The road cleared away the farther they traveled as they went by old farmhouses, some still in use. A small village was home to several inns, and Jor suggested that they stop at one of the finer establishments.

            One of the finer establishments was not much improved over the worse, but it was enough for the two of them. The windows were glossed over to allow light in, but no passerby would see anything through one of them. The floor was carpeted, though a little ragged, and the tables were kept relatively clean. Jor opened the door for Marafel to enter, and as he followed her in a vision of sleeping in a real, feathered bed eased his stressed features.

            Marafel chose a table in the back corner near the innkeeper's desk. They dropped their sacks against the wall and Jor leaned over to talk near her. “We haven't much gold to speak of, so we had better keep the spending to a relative minimum.” She shook her head and pulled out a leather purse from her sack. With a triumphant grin etched onto her face, she dumped the purse onto the table. It made a heavy thud, and she untied the strings holding it together. Dozens of gold pieces spilled out. “How?”

            “Amaren is littered with this stuff. I went... exploring before we were attacked. Riches aren't really my thing however. I got enough to see us home.” Jor let out a whistle and squeezed her hands. Pain replaced her grin, a look of hurt that turned her face away in embarrassment. Her hands slipped out of his and she busied them by placing the gold back in the purse.

            Jor retreated his own hands and lowered his head. “My apologies.” She turned back to him and barked a short laugh, allowing a weak smile to break through.

            “None are needed. As long as you don't allow personal feelings to draw you away from the task, that is.” This time she reached over and grabbed his hands. “I needed you back at Amaren, and amazingly, somehow, you were there. Saving me from those creatures. It was unreal, like a dream. I don't think I can ever thank you enough for that.” Jor took her in for a moment, letting the moment drag on in fear that it might end. He did not want it to end.

            A maid planted herself in front of Jor. Wiping her greasy hands on a white apron turned black with soot, the grey-haired woman stared expectantly at Jor. “What would my good master wish to dine on?”

            “A bottle of your finest wine will do. Oh, bring me a serving of roasted lamb and a loaf of bread. A pitcher of water and butter will also do well.” Marafel raised an eyebrow at him. Grinning, he turned back to the maid. “Let us see, I'll also have cheese, ham slices, and mustard to dip it in if you will. I think,” he glanced back over to Marafel, “that will be all.”

            An exasperated Marafel threw her arms up. “Men!” The maid patted her on the shoulder and left to fetch the order. Marafel crossed her arms and eyed up Jor. “Don’t worry about me; I’m taking my fair share out of your meal.” They did not have to wait long. A heavily encumbered maid laden with a small feast staggered towards them under the load. In the rear of the common room, they set out to devour the numerous plates filled with delicacies that had not been experienced in weeks. Even between both of them, the plates retained some of their food. However, the wine bottle was emptied long before the plump little innkeeper hobbled over to them.

            “Will you be renting a room tonight, my good master and mistress?” Jor shook his head to regain clarity of mind, but Marafel was a step ahead of him. She reached into her purse and pulled out several coins.

            He opened his mouth. Those were not enough for two – “One room please.” She began to giggle uncontrollably, not even attempting to cover it up. The innkeeper bowed and strode away, a grin creeping onto his face. Jor stood up, pushing his flask away. “Oh come on Jor. You said yourself “to keep the spending to a minimum.” Am I not supposed to follow advice coming from someone as wise as yourself?” Jor shook his head in another vain attempt to clear his blurred vision. Instead of the intended effect, he hiccupped and slid back down into his seat.

            “That – that’s not what I meant. You twisted what I said.” She opened her arms up and placed a confused look of innocence on her face while mouthing the words ‘who, me?’ “And where am I supposed to sleep?” She winked and formed the slightest of grins. When the common room closed shortly thereafter Marafel and Jor supported each other, staggering up the stairs and into the room. As soon as they were inside, Jor fell back to close the door with the force of his body.

            She helped him back up to his feet, and he glanced about the room. One bed, so it figured. “We had better get to,” he yawned heartily, “sleep. Tomorrow will easily be as long as today. And tell me, before you humiliate me so, why?” She slipped out of her coat and pants to reveal a short – very short noted by Jor – nightdress. He slid his hand over his face. “You have to be kidding me.”

            “No, I would never jest thee m’lord Jor Falin. You took a hearty share out of my purse; I shall take a hearty share out of your bed.” She climbed underneath the covers. “Well, you’re not just going to sleep on the floor are you?” Jor had actually considered the possibility but could not pass up an opportunity such as this.

            Essentially falling out of his studded armor, he left nothing but his leather breeches on. Marafel held open the covers and he climbed right in, too fatigued to think about the possible consequences of his actions. “So… what now?” Marafel leaned over and pecked him on the cheek.

            “Get some sleep.” She turned over to face the wall. He sighed and pulled the blankets up to his chin. He could very easily cry right now. More confused than ever about this daunting prospect laid before him, he fell into sleep uneasily. If there was one thing he could never claim to understand, it had to be the logic of a woman.

            When dawn streamed through the window, it was with a feeling of exaltation that Jor awoke. The room was cool, although not bitingly so on any account. As Jor stood up, a moan escaped from Marafel’s lips. Her arm slipped off of his chest, and she shivered before Jor tucked the blanket beneath her chin.

            It was all unreal to Jor, a magnificent dream that had swept him along in the current of its power. Too quickly had a lost hope transformed into a dauntless pride, and now he had found strength in Marafel. Undoubtedly she found strength in him also.

            Walking over to the washbasin, Jor dipped his hands in the cold, clear water. A splash across the face widened his eyes, and he dried himself with a towel hanging from an iron rack. All of the dirty clothes remained in a pile on the floor. Refusing to wear such filth after sleeping in a decent bed for the first time in weeks, he threw all of the clothes into a basin. It would have to do for now.

            Leaving Marafel a picture of beauty and peace, Jor strode out of the door, making sure to close it quietly. The common room was empty save for two aged men having a discussion over mugs of ale. Even a maid was absent, and Jor took a seat, tapping his foot impatiently until one popped through the kitchen several minutes later.

            “Excuse me.” Jor touched the arm of the maid, a young woman with a tired but pretty face. “Could you fetch me another washbasin?” She nodded and hurried off, her dress swishing this way and that, missing the clustered chairs and tables by some miraculous quality of agility.

            The maid returned carrying a large basin, splashing water as she swayed from side to side. Jor stood up and grabbed the load from her as it fell from her grasp. He set it down quickly on the table, his lethargy withholding a great deal of his strength. With a curtsy the maid walked to new patrons that had entered the inn as Jor had waited. After downing a glass of water, he picked up the heavy basin and proceeded back to his room.

            Marafel remained sacked out from the past night, as deep in sleep as before. Jor placed the basin next to the other and set out to wash to the clothes in the clean water. After each article of clothing was rinsed out thoroughly, he squeezed it so it was little more than damp. He spread each one out over one of the racks or a bedpost and moved onto the next.

            Midday approached and at last Marafel roused herself. A mess of hair straightened itself immediately upon a shake of her head, and she wrapped the blanket around her torso to drape upon the floor. He turned to gaze at her. “How are you doing sunshine?” She let out a short giggle, unperturbed by his newfound courage around women.

            “Just swell, my love.” She waltzed over and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You’ve cleaned everything?” He nodded and she wrapped her arms around him, leaning over his shoulder to place her mouth by his ear, using the force between their bodies to keep the blanket shut tight around her. Her voice was a trace of a whisper, yet he heard them with such clarity there was no question in his mind. “You are mine.” Those were the words he both feared and desired more than the world itself. She was, however, not about to let him make that decision. Her embrace tightened, and he realized with a start that she was crying softly into his shoulder.

            Trying to keep from welling up himself, he guided her over to the bed. They lay down, sitting up against the headboard. Burrowing her face into his shoulder with one hand, he used the other to give a reassuring rub on her back. He could hold back tears no longer, and they sat at length, embracing each other, allowing their tears of love to sing what words alone could not.