“Scarcely!” The incensed voice was female. Laurel staggered over to us. A glance showed me her hand clamped tight to the point of her shoulder. Blood was leaking through her fingers. She had already pulled the arrow out.

“Did you get the head out?” I asked quickly.

“I would not have pulled it out if I hadn't been sure I could get the whole thing,” she replied waspishly. Pain did not improve her temperament. She was pale but two bright spots of color stood on her cheeks. She looked down at the boy I straddled and her eyes went very wide. I heard her take a ragged breath.

Nighteyes stood beside me, panting heavily. We. should get out of here. The thought was sluggish with pain. Others may come. Those who follow or those who went ahead. I saw the boy's brow furrow.

I glanced at Laurel. “Can you ride as you are? Because we must leave here. We need to question him, but this isn't the time. We don't want to be caught by those who follow, or by his friends coming back for him.”

I could tell by her eyes that she didn't know the answer to my question but she lied bravely. “ can ride. Let's go. I too have questions I'd like to ask this one.” The archer stared at her, horrorstricken at the venom in her voice. He suddenly bucked under me, trying to escape. I backhanded him with my free hand. “Don't try that again. It's much easier for me to kill you than drag you along.”

He knew I spoke truth. His eyes went to Lord Golden and then to Laurel before his gaze came back to me. He peered up at me, blood leaking from his nose, and I recognized his shocked look. This was a young man who had killed, but never before been in imminent danger of being killed. I felt oddly qualified to introduce him to the sensation. No doubt I had once worn that same expression.

“On your feet.” Fifteen years ago, I would have backed up the command by hauling him upright. Now I kept a grip on his shirtfront but let him stand up himself. I was short of breath after our tussle, and not inclined to spend my reserves on a show of strength. Nighteyes lay down on the moss beneath the tree, unabashedly panting. Disappear, I suggested to him. In a moment.

The archer stared from me to my wolf and back again, confusion growing in his eyes. I refused to meet his gaze. Instead, I cut the leather thong that fastened the collar of his shirt. He flinched as my knife blade tugged through it. I jerked the leather loose, and roughly turned him. “Your hands,” I demanded, and without quibbling, he put them behind him. The fight seemed to have gone out of him. The teeth marks in his wrist were still bleeding. I tied his wrists tightly together. I completed my task and glanced up to find Laurel glowering at my prisoner. Obviously, she was taking the attack personally. Perhaps no one had ever tried to kill her before. The first time is always a memorable experience. riR, Lord Golden assisted Laurel into the saddle. I knew she wanted to refuse his help, but didn't dare. Missing her mount would be more humiliating than accepting his support. That left Myblack to carry my captive and me. Neither my horse nor I were happy with it. I picked up the archer's bow, and after a moment's hesitation, flung it up into the tree where it snagged and hung. With luck, no one passing here would happen to glance up and see it. From the way he stared after it, I knew it had been precious to him.

I took up Myblack's reins. “I'm going to mount,” I told my captive. “Then I'm going to reach down and pull you up behind me. If you don't cooperate, I'm going to knock you cold and leave you for those others. You know the ones I mean. The ones you thought we were, the killers from the village.”

He moistened his lips. The whole side of his face had started to puff and darken. For the first time, he spoke. “You aren't with them?”

I stared at him coldly. “Did you even wonder about that before you shot at me?” I demanded. I mounted my horse.

“You were following our trail,” he pointed out. He looked over at the woman he had shot and his expression was almost stricken. “I thought you were the villagers coming to kill us. Truly.”

I rode Myblack over to him and reached down. After an instant's hesitation, he hitched his shoulder up toward me. I got a firm grip on his upper arm. Myblack snorted and turned in a circle, but after two hops, he managed to get a leg over her. I gave him a moment to settle behind me, and then told him, “Sit tight. She's a tall horse. Throw yourself off her, you'll likely break a shoulder.”

I glanced back the way we had come. There was still no sign of pursuit, but I had a sense of our luck running out. I looked around. The trail of the Witted led uphill, but I didn't want to follow them farther until I had wrung from this boy whatever he knew. My eyes plotted out a possible ruse. We could go downhill to where a stream probably flowed in winter. The moister soil at the bottom of the hill would take our tracks well. We could follow the old streambed for a time, then leave it. Then up the opposite side and across a rocky hillside and back into cover. It might work. Our tracks would be fresher, but they might just assume they were catching up. We might draw the pursuers off the Prince.