I find myself sprinting towards more goons instead of away... making this doubly not my day at all. The sun is barely past the horizon and already I'm trying to save some man from his attackers... who are big and have swords. Plus, there's the small matter of them outnumbering me. Small matter, truly.

Oh, well. Might as well make Jinker-Keifer from Jinker milk. Trust me, you don't want to try that milk before it's fermented. Yuck.

I sprint right at the men, the poor victim hanging between them like a rag doll. The mobster on the right draws a sword and releases his prisoner. The one on the left looks at me with dumbfounded eyes. His downfall.

I race to the sword bearing man with two crazies on my tail. Not sure where baldy went, but my last glance only showed the two henchmen.

At the last second, I swerve, dodging a clunky overhanded swing and continuing on to the man still holding the poor prisoner.

The swordsman behind me is tackled—by his so-called friends. The goofs.

I draw to a halt since the other man is still standing there, frozen. He doesn't go for the sword at his waist, so I pause, waiting for either attack or surrender. He stands there, bug-eyed. I shrug and bring my dagger to his throat.

“Will you release the poor man, please?” I ask pleasantly.

That shakes him from of his stupor. He grunts and jerks back, throwing the prisoner between me and himself, making me jump back to avoid impaling the poor man. As the man collapses to the ground with a groan, the criminal swings at me with a haymaker. Where did they find all the muscle men? Did they steal them from the circus?

I grasp his wrist and duck under his arm, pulling his arm behind his back, and jerk up. I hear a pop and wince. Poor guy. A dislocated elbow hurts. I would feel bad if he hadn’t attacked me first. I gave him a bunch of chances.

I hit him right at the base of his skull with my remaining knife hilt. I didn't even realize it, but I must have lost one knife in the previous fight with boss man. Great.

At least the man before me is out. I leave a shallow but not life-threatening scratch on his hand to keep him that way for a bit longer.

I turn to the pile of raving, angry bulls. They look at me with murder in their eyes. The boss man emerges from the alley, taking in his men on the ground, who are currently rolling around trying to detangle themselves. Some are pickled worse than pretzels.

All bear my mark, except for the swordsman the rest bowled over and boss man. The ones cut will be out in two minutes, tops. But a lot can happen in two minutes.

The guy they held gets haltingly to his feet, wincing as he grabs at his ribs. There's a large gash in his forehead and one of his eyes is definitely going to be black tomorrow. He backs to my side, then looks at me with frightened muddy brown eyes behind the rim of broken glasses.

His gaze flicks between me and the bulls growing redder in the face the longer they take to get up. I’m surprised they don’t have steam coming out their ears.

The man I saved turns on his heel and runs. My jaw drops. So much for common courtesy and not leaving a girl alone to fight a pack of ravaging bulls. Is there such a thing as ravaging bulls?

I glance again at the pack that is finally detangled. They watch me with promised bloodshed, much as I imagine a pack of hyenas would watch a flightless bird.

This... thing I've stumbled on seems like much more than your atypical burglary. It seems much more like a kidnapping.

I turn tail and run. Mayyybe the man I saved wasn’t so dumb after all. Too late. My luck finally runs out. I reach a wall and jump to catch a jutting windowsill. Something grabs my ankle and jerks. My fingers slip from the sill and my head hits a jutting wooden board on the way down. Stars flash in my vision.

I land on my hands and knees amid men looking for me to pay for their pain and humiliation.

I've already lost one of my blades, so I keep the other in a tight fist. I twist and knee the person behind me. He grunts as I hit his thigh, but nothing important. Sadly.

I stab behind me and hit something. Someone shouts but renews their attempt to hold me. Another hand grabs my flailing wrist and twists. With a yell, I drop my last knife.

I buck and fight, but only exhaust myself. I shout for help, crossing internal fingers it will reach anyone within hearing distance.

A hand clamps over my mouth. I bite down and taste copper. Ewww. Gross.

Someone yells and cuffs me. My head rebounds off the concrete at the force of the blow. My ears ring and I am unable to do anything as hands grab my arms and legs. A boot and then another kicks my ribs and I try to curl in to protect myself. Nothing happens. I can’t move a muscle. Whether that is from the blow to my head or the men holding me down... I don't know. A sour taste fills my mouth, and my mind has a hard time focusing.

I stop struggling as a hazy form I take to be the bald leader looks me from head to toe. My skin crawls. “We could have a little fun with this one, boys.”

A chorus of ayes and catcalls surrounds me. Tears slip down my cheeks, hidden by the folds of my hood. Fear washes through my veins like ice and my teeth chatter.

There’s nothing I can do. I’m at their mercy. Never have I felt such helpless, mind-numbing fear. I can do nothing as I watch with a distorted gaze as the broken nosed leader reaches for my hood and cloak. Somehow it’s still on. Desperate, I find the strength to buck and scream as loud as my lungs will allow.

Ran feels my desperation but has yet to find a safe place for my sister. She starts to leave my sister where they are, and I somehow sense they are in a back street with someone trailing my bond. I will not have my sister left alone to the wiles of someone with the gall to follow a Timber Wolf.

“NO!” I scream over the bond as loud as I can.

Words... words express our emotion, our pain, our joy, our very lives.

And yet, as often as I spoke to my bond verbally, never have I attempted words over our link. I didn’t believe we could communicate in such a way. But this time... I feel something brush against my mind, deeper and fuller than before, as if something has snapped into place or grown from a sapling to a budding goldenrod.

Awareness floods my mind of Ran. Her passion of racing through wild places, exploring the vastness of wild and intangible creation. Her sassiness mixed with the absolute joy in her soul of being alive. Her strength of will that keeps her from being chained to anyone. The deep, bone chilling fear for me.

Yet stronger still is a deep loyalty that is hidden beneath the emotions broiling in plain sight. It encompasses her being and makes her who she is. This loyalty feels much like the warmth I feel when Momma hugs me. Or the breath of fresh air when Jill graces me with one of her cheek kisses. And the pride I feel when I watch Jack practice with his wooden sword behind the house.

Who is this linked to? I ask myself. It seems a mystery I need to unravel before I die.

“Oh, stop it. You’re being dramatic.”

Huh? Who’s that?

“This is your conscience speaking. I am telling you not to give up and die on me before I can get there!” The voice ends in a growl.

“Ran?” Ahhh. I must’ve been hit harder than I thought. I’m imagining Ran can speak.

“Hi Aria. And no, I can’t speak. You can translate my brain waves into your thoughts. You are Gifted. A Mindspeaker, to be exact. I’ve been waiting on this moment for a long time.” The voice is imbued with tenderness. And love. I abruptly realize the deep loyalty is tied to me.

“Why? How? Wha —?”

She chuckles, but it's strained. “Hang on, little rider. Just a little longer. I’m coming.”

I’m shoved out of my brain. How do you get shoved out of your own mind, you might ask? Oh, easily. You just do. No idea how on my end. How I ended up inside there with my pet wolf is another question I don't dare think of for too long. Makes one question things like sanity.

The bearded man with the broken nose is still reaching for my hood. The conversation took a matter of mere moments.

The fear comes back with a vengeance, making my limbs tingle with adrenaline. I jerk, but the hands are too strong. I am too weak. My lip trembles.

Then shouts break out from those holding me, the hands loosen.

My heart pounds in hope.

“Guards!” someone exclaims with fear as I hear the clanking of lightweight chain link armor and the soft thuds of boots.

The hands and bodies on top of me scramble and end up tripping over each other in their haste to get away.

“This is not over, girl.” The leader sneers as he stomps on my ribs. Then he’s gone.

I curl into a fetal position as the last leave. My mind can’t process what happened. I’m left a shaking mess on the cold, hard ground. Gentle hands ease me up. I try to jerk away but don’t have the strength to pull my arms from the steady, firm hands.

“Easy now, fighter. You’re with friends.” A gruff voice soothes.

My head hangs to my chest as someone picks me up and carries me to the fountain. I’m set on the edge as someone kneels before me. Another holds my shoulders to keep me from falling.

“Everyone, face out.” A voice commands from in front of me.

I wince as the ringing of my ears intensifies from his voice. Hands slowly and gently untie the mask over my mouth, then fold back my hood.

My disjointed mind keeps my motions choppy instead of the smooth motions my father taught. I try to fight them off, but someone grasps my wrists to stop my flailing. Although calloused, they hold my wrists with a softness I didn’t expect, considering the gruffness of soldiers I have previously met. They still hurt my wrists where hard hands had left marks and bruises.

As my face is exposed, silence so deep I could slice it with a fancy fairy knife fills the air.