Crow panted heavily as he ran through the forest, each breath straining him more than the last. It had been a long time since he had run this far, and his lungs burned from the effort. But he couldn’t slow down, not while there was a chance that Penelope was in danger. For the time, all of his worries about what had happened between them had vanished from his mind. It didn’t matter that she had caught him with Jaxon or that she didn’t trust him anymore or even that she didn’t want to be with him. None of those things changed the fact that he was hopelessly and completely in love with her. He had to get to the battle to make sure she was safe.

Time seemed to pass sluggishly by as the sun sank lower to the horizon and darkness eventually fell over the outer villages. Crow staggered as he ran, pushing himself to keep moving though his legs threatened to give out beneath him. He was just beginning to think that he couldn’t make it, when Wheldrake came into sight up ahead. The sight sent a wave of relief through him. Jaxon’s camp wasn’t much farther. He could still make it. With a fresh surge of energy, he pushed himself to pick up his pace just a little more as he hurried past the village towards Aramoor.

After a while longer, he could see the light of a fire up ahead. It was the thieves’ camp. He had finally made it. He slowed to a jog as he neared the edge of the clearing, trembling uncontrollably from the strain of running at a near sprint for a quarter of the day. However, he couldn’t focus on the weakness in his legs or the ache in his chest at the moment. The commotion in the camp meant that the battle had begun. He had to find Penelope.

His wide, green eyes darted over the moving figures in the camp as he searched for the knight, but it was difficult to see with just the light of one firepit to dimly illuminate the countless faces. He circled the clearing, keeping his gaze fixed on the battle as he looked for her, growing desperate the longer he couldn’t find her. Was it possible that he had arrived too late? What if she was already dead? The thought filled him with panic, and he edged closer to the fighting, hoping to catch a glimpse of her familiar face amongst the crowd.

After a while, his efforts paid off, and he felt a rush of relief as he spotted Penelope, alive and well, in a fight with one of the thieves. He took a step forward to aid her, but then paused as he noticed something else about the two. The knight wasn’t just fighting any thief; she was locked in combat with Hartley. The sight was surprising, but his shock didn’t last long before another figure caught his attention. His heart stopped as he followed Jaxon with his eyes, watching as the thief crept soundlessly towards Penelope’s back with his sword poised to strike.

[i]No.[/i] Without a chance to think of a plan, Crow sprinted across the battlefield, forgetting his exhaustion as he raced to stop the man before he could kill her. Fortunately, Jaxon didn’t seem to have noticed his presence yet, since his focus was on the knight in front of him. The thief leader had a stony expression on his face, and Crow stared in horror as he drew back his arm to thrust his sword into her back. His arm tensed, and a cruel smirk twisted his lip, but just as he brought down his blade, his cold look gave way to one of surprise.

Crow cried out in pain as the sword sank into his abdomen, cutting cleanly through his flesh as it impaled his body. Without time to draw his own weapons, he had thrown himself in the path of the blade to stop Jaxon from killing Penelope.

The thief leader stared at him in astonishment for a moment, but the expression was quickly replaced with an amused grin as he began to laugh. “Oh, Crow,” he shook his head. “You really are a fool.” He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes as he looked at the other thief, who stood before him with a grimace of anguish as blood began to trickle from his wound. In the next moment, a sadistic smile spread over his lips, and he stepped forward, pushing his blade further through Crow’s body and making him whimper in pain.

“It’s too bad, really,” Jaxon went on with a click of his tongue. “I was hoping I would get at least a little more use out of you before the end of this war, but it looks like I’ll be claiming my bounty early.”

Crow forced himself to meet the other thief’s gaze, panting as he began to taste blood. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he managed to spit out.

Jaxon smirked, “You didn’t really think I wanted to take back the rebellious mutt who ran away with [i]my[/i] thieves, did you?” He chuckled. “No, I came here to kill you for the price on your head. The fact that you were willing to be used first was just a bonus.”

“Bastard,” Crow snarled.

“You can call me whatever foul names you’d like,” Jaxon shrugged. “Because no matter what you say or do, I’ve already won.” His smile widened cruelly. “Goodbye, stray.” With a sharp flick of his wrist, he twisted his sword and then ripped the blade back out of the thief’s abdomen.

Crow gasped, unable to make a sound as a searing pain took over his body and he collapsed to the ground, lying still in a slowly forming pool of his own blood.