From the angle, I could tell it was just after dawn. I lay on my side on my cloak, facing the burned-out campfire. Balen was not across from me. I sat up, finding Drem perched atop a rock peering at me with that maddening calm. I got the impression it enjoyed the affect it had on me. I shot it a hostile glare, pushed to my feet, refusing to let it frighten me, and shook the leaves and pine needles from my cloak. The morning light illuminated the gray mistiness in the air. Dew sparkled on the ground, leaves, and rocks, shadows and light everywhere I looked. It was magical. I breathed in deeply, the air wet and fresh. And then the shadows moved. Drem pushed off from the rock. Its shiny black wings caught the light as it flew into the air, its caw echoing through the forest, pricking the fine hairs on the back of my neck. I whirled in a slow circle, realizing I was surrounded. I clutched the cloak to my chest, eyeing the ground for a weapon.
