• What is wrong with me lately??? I’ve practically fallen in love with two complete strangers in the course of a few hours... And the sickening part is I can’t help it... She thought, in a disheartening way.
    Vyktor grimaced when he began to speak once more, “The Terra are coming... They’re searching for all of those who participated in the Rebellion. I escaped their grasp just before they could finish me...” He inhaled painfully. “I’d advise you to get out of Kadn.”
    Osmund’s face remained expressionless. “What will become of Sabrielle?” He gestured toward her.
    Vyktor’s smile was thick with lust. “I’ll keep her with me,” he proposed, but was quickly interrupted.
    “What is going on?!” Sabrielle roared. “I’m not going anywhere!”
    The two men faced her, frozen with utter surprise conceived by her sudden outburst.
    “Who are the Terra? I’m so confused,” Sabrielle mumbled, more composed now, but still with an edge of emotion.
    Vyktor was the first to recover: “It’s not imperative that you know, we can speak of this later when we have more time. They’re on their way as we speak, so we have to get far away from here.”
    “Why can’t I just stay here? I don’t even know you two... Why would they kill me? Just let me be on my way and you can flee the city,” she piped up solemnly.
    Osmund responded guiltily, “My, well... Scent is on you... the Terra are notorious for their... Creatures... They’ll hunt you down for information concerning me, then kill you, no matter how cooperative you turn out to be... I’m sorry, but the Terra are incredibly ruthless. I’m not going to take any chances...” He hesitated. “I promised your parents...”
    The word ‘parents’ shook Sabrielle to her very soul. Her eyes widened tremendously and sweat beads began to develop upon her brow. She shook her head.
    “You knew my parents?” she whispered, nearly inaudibly.
    He nodded gravely.
    Vyktor allowed them their distance as he crouched upon his left knee, examining his stomach wound. It bled profusely.
    “I... I thought that you seemed eerily familiar... Like I somehow... Knew you...” she stammered. “Osmund... Osmund... Uncle Osmund...” A light of recognition shone across her face. “You’re Uncle Ossy?”
    Finally, a smile parted upon his previously somber lips. “I suppose so... I have missed you...
    “We’re running out of time... I’ve got to get you to safety... You’re in danger...” Osmund replied hurriedly. Vyktor rejoined the twosome, swept Sabrielle up into his rippling arms, and led Osmund toward the overgrown jungle-like perimeter of the garden.
    “Let’s get the hell out of here,” he murmured, then angled his face nearer to hers. “I’ll explain the details to you when you’re safe.”
    She rolled her eyes playfully, trying to conceal her unexplainable adoration. “Right...”
    ***
    “You shouldn’t have exerted yourself like that...” Osmund scolded Vyktor as they entered the town of Meisdal.
    “Hey,” he began, exhaling painstakingly, “it was only... four... miles...” A smile of sarcasm cut across his dampened face. He then collapsed to his side and relinquished Sabrielle from his failing grasp. She rose, dusting herself clean, while observing Vyktor’s condition.
    “Oh my God... You’ve been running for a long time... You’ve got to be exhausted... Are you alright?” she asked, partially hysteric, hands upon her mouth. Osmund shook his grey head, still rebuking the wounded man.
    “If you had just allowed me to carry her, you wouldn’t–“
    ”Osmund, please, you’re merely a human, there’s no way that you could’ve–“
    ”Now listen to me, young man, just because you think that you’re nearly invincible doesn’t mean that you can continue to risk your–“
    ”I’m not nearly invincible... I am invincible... You have no idea how strong I–“
    Vyktor and Osmund proceeded to converse argumentatively until Sabrielle could not endure their bickering one moment further.
    “No one had to carry me at all...” she grumbled.
    “Oh and you’re trying to tell me that you could’ve kept pace with a great war hero and a half-elf?” Vyktor questioned skeptically. Osmund glowered at him, mostly because of his carelessness.
    “Mortals are not to know of your origins, Vyktor,” Osmund hissed, furious at his ‘companion.’
    “Hey, for all she knows, you could be the Halfie and I could be the veteran,” Vyktor joked, winking at Sabrielle. “She has a right to know what’s going on, anyways...”