Dorothea jumped down to give Sam a bit of breathing room, but she was too full of adrenaline to sit -- she paced in circles on a flat rock, and absently sharpened her claws on it. "Well ... I thought that if it didn't work, it would be better to die in the jaws of a Jockal than to live forever as a Shade." She tipped her head, her yellow eyes narrowed at the Marshal. "How did you know they were there in the first place?"

August had shouldered his sword, and he was scanning the woods for signs of anything that might be following them -- but aside from the birds and the squirrel-monkeys, there was only quiet. "My first year in the regiment, your father declared war on the fairy realm. Four hundred men marched down the fairy roads. Eight of us returned. Those Shades might well have been my old comrades, once."

Dorothea stared at him, but he was as cold and serious as ever. "My father would never --"

"Your father vowed after that to keep the peace," August interrupted her. "That loss was a blow he won't forget." He looked to Sam, his expression grave, and he looked out at the forest again. "The dwarves would have gone on to the horse farmer. The Shades separated us, but I think they left the dwarves alone. So if we keep moving we might find them." He shifted his weight, always ready to keep moving. He knew the queen would be furious by now -- perhaps, with a little luck, he could lead them right into Liam's caravan. He could tell the queen, then, that all was according to plan.

Dorothea sat down, puffing her chest in that regal way of hers. "Marshal. The danger is over. Relinquish your sword."

August didn't even flinch. "I'm the only thing standing between you two and being eaten." He peered down at Sam purposefully. Even if she asked it of him, he had no intention of letting himself be disarmed again.