by life's unfairness, Rafe snatched his overcoat from the closet and ran.

    He got no farther than his apartment door before his fingers became drenched in blood again. An explosive curse ripped from him. This time, he'd managed to spatter his shirtcuff into the bargain. Back in the bathroom, hands under the running water: this has to be a nightmare, he thought. Raggedly nervous, he reached to straighten his tie, then recalled his wet fingers and jerked short. The last fool straw in this messed-up morning was to look as if he'd dribbled breakfast down his front. With a sour laugh at himself, he grabbed briefcase and overcoat, rushed out of the apartment and sprinted into the parking lot. He unlocked his BMW, breathless and feeling pig stupid, and hopeful the fresh air might steady him.

Probably stress and anxiety had caused his mind to play tricks. But when he jabbed the car keys into the ignition, the fresh blood was back again. Damning, slippery fingerprints smeared on everything he touched. Choking back sobs of frustration, he saw another mangled owl's feather float down and settle on the dashboard.

    At that moment Rare fully understood: he was not going to handle his meeting; he was in fact going to lose his job. The money and prestige and quick thinking upon which he had secured his success were not going to save him. An owl shot down for a moment's stung pride had marked him, and the crime was going to blight his life forever...

Kirelle sat back on her heels, saddened by what she had learned. The two rearers she had dreamspelled were just thoughtless, prideful braggarts, ignorant rather than evil. A stag and an owl had died to no purpose, and for that, she must see two mortals driven from the wood with incentive not to return. The last of the three, by default, must have been the one to cut the Eld Tree. He must be left bound in sleep to even the balance when the fey arrived to demand blood-price.

    Bent with the stone cupped in her hands, Kirelle composed herself to discharge that last unpleasant duty. Beside her, the blond man with the costly bracelet moaned in the deep throes of nightmare, and the third rearer snapped out of sleep.

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