Chaos.

She was surrounded by noise and light and screaming, terror that dug up old memories and made her want to find a tree to cry in. Feela ran down the stone covered path between the boulder-tents in a frantic haze, animal skin shoes slapping against the hard rock as she searched for her prey through the film of terror that obscured her surroundings.

The Dark-folk. That's what her teacher had called them. She had heard the ones calling themselves Traveler talk about Demon, and they seemed to be the same. She was supposed to kill the Dark-folk wherever she found them, they were dangerous and terrible. Her teacher had also told her to stay away from the Rock-tribes and their strange, square villages, but she had never told her which rule was more important, so here she was, surrounded by boulder-tents and cold-shiny-rock, and she hadn't even managed to find her prey. She should have left it alone, let the Rock-tribe deal with the wooden Night-folk, but what if they couldn't?

[I]so what?[/i] a tiny voice said in her mind. Not in words, since she had lost her words long ago, but in feelings. [I]let them die. Where were Rock-people when mother died, sobbing?[/i]

Feela came to a stop and shook her head violently, the bone shards on her necklace jangling loudly, it must have come untucked while she ran. She squashed that tiny, furious voice in her head and looked around again, trying to pick up some kind of trail.