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"The spirit of the Dark Woods?" asked Arya. "The folk legend? She actually exists?"

Walker nodded. "And she is powerful," he added, "much more powerful than any foe either of us has faced, able to level armies with a sweep of her fingers."

"Armies?" she mouthed. Walker moved to go, but Arya held his arm tighter. "You can't go now-wait until there are more of us! Wait until we find Clearwater and can muster up a score of warriors, Legionnaires, Knights in Silver, wizards of the Spellguard-"

"No," said Walker. "This is my fight, and my fight alone. No man or woman will die in my place."

His fatalistic tone made Arya's heart race. "Wait, at least, until you are fully rested-"

"If I do not confront her now, I will never find her," replied Walker. "Her spies are even now on the wing, going to tell her all that has transpired today. I must fight her now." Arya frowned, but Walker was firm. "I will heal as I walk."

The knight did not understand, and she bit her lip.

He took another step, but still Arya held him back. He turned to her, his eyes cold and hard, and Arya swallowed. She had meant to argue, but the determination she saw in those eyes told her that it would be no use. She closed her eyes, fighting within herself for words, and when they finally came, she fixed him with a gaze as full of resolve as his own.

"Then I am coming with you," she said.

"You are not…" "Walker started to argue, but then he trailed off. He did not need to look into her steely eyes to know argument was useless. "As you will. But if you are to come-" With a twist, he removed the wolf ring and offered it to her. "You will need protection."

"But-but you need healing," she protested.

"The shadows will provide," said Walker.

Though she did not understand, Arya found herself trusting him. She slid the ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. It felt heavy, but she took reassurance in its weight. She nodded then took a step away, meaning to call for her horse.

This time, it was Walker's turn to grasp her arm and stop her.

"You will need no horse for this journey," he said.

Arya slid out of his grasp and eyed him. "How do we journey, then?" she asked, hesitant to be away from Swiftfall and her trusty lance.

"The only way Gylther'yel will not hear us coming-along the most silent of paths." He extended a hand silently to her. "The Shadow."

Arya shivered. "Can she not see ghosts, if she is a ghost?" asked Arya.

"Not the Ethereal. The Shadow," he said. "This is the only way."

The others in the plaza had observed the two by now, and Bars and Derst were walking over, wearing questioning looks.

"Take my hand," said Walker, his eyes gleaming.

Arya gnawed on her lip, indecisive. Though she wanted to delay, to explain to her brother knights the reason she had to go, or even ask them to accompany her, she felt Walker's need for haste.

"The grove!" she called out to Unddreth, Bars, and Derst. Then she stepped into Walker's reach and clutched his outstretched hand.

Instantly, shadows surrounded them and the world seemed to turn black. Walker wrapped his billowing cloak around her and took her firmly in his embrace.

"We walk the shadowy realm beyond the Border Ethereal-the Shadow Fringe-where our travel will be quickened," explained Walker. "Whatever you may see, whatever you may feel-remember that I am with you. Whatever else speaks, do not reply. Cling tightly to me-I will not forsake you."

Arya nodded.

Then, as Walker took a step forward, she followed him into the shadows.

* * * * *

Arya felt her lungs fill with smoke, and she could not breathe. As they stepped between worlds, all the colors of Quaervarr and even the sun seemed to fade to a dull, bleak haze. She felt a tug, as though the very darkness pulled her in. Her gorge rose and her stomach danced. The afternoon sunlight became muddy, as though the sun were but a smoldering torch behind thick spider webs.

Surrounding her were a multitude of moving figures, all engaged in different activities, from