Sakura paced back and forth. She felt restless, didn’t know what to do. The battle was raging right now and her mother and her sister were gathering what little they had.

“Yoko, quickly!” her mother said. “Sakura, what are you doing? We have to leave in no time at all!”

Sakura made a noise of frustration. All she could think about was Lawrence. He could be bleeding out on the ground right now and she wouldn’t even know it.

“Sakura. We must prepare. The ship will be leaving soon.”

Perhaps her mother was right. The best thing she could do now was put her mind from it, despite the fact that there was a battle being fought. Only minutes ago the whole camp was up and about—horns blown, soldiers brandishing weapons—the whole of the temple grounds a nest of furious activity.

The enemy was attacking the Western Temple.

A ball of apprehension was forming in her stomach and her hands shook. She tried to busy them by arranging the loose strands of hair falling at the sides of her face, but all this seemed to do was to reveal her nervousness.

Against every impulse in her body, Sakura got busy gathering some of their things. “Where is Kaiya and Yumiko?”

“They’re on their way,” Yoko said. “They went for water.”

Will we need water? It’s not a long hike to the ship.

“Mother,” Sakura said. She didn’t answer. “Mother?” She glanced toward her. Yukio was still, looking past Sakura at the entrance of the tent. Fear assailed her immediately. Please don’t be word of his death…

She turned and found a man standing there. “Who—who are you?” her mother asked from behind, her voice high and wavering. The annoyance was present, but there was also fear there, which made Sakura’s heart jump.

Something about the swordsman’s appearance told the dancer that this man was not a part of the army. His robes were stained and tattered—his armor incomplete. Upon his face was a white mask with a red handprint.

Is that blood?

“You,” he said, pointing directly at Sakura. “With me. Now.”

“She’s not going with you,” Yukio said as she moved in front of Sakura, a warding arm thrust back toward her.

He moved past Yukio and Yoko. Fast—taking Sakura by the back of the neck. His steal grip pained her and she cried out.

Yoko and Yukio moved to react, but the assailant batted them away and marched Sakura out of the tent.

Kaiya and Yumiko stopped short, water dropped to the ground, forgotten. Like her mother, the two dancers cried out for help, but with a battle raging at the base of the temple, and another in the harbor, there were no soldiers to assist them in the immediate area.

“Soldiers!” Kaiya barked. “Yumiko! Go!” Kaiya, reacting quickly, ran toward the temple. Yukio was slower, but ran to catch up.

They wouldn’t return with soldiers to help. Not in time before this ragged swordsman walked Sakura out of the temple grounds.

Several times the others attempted to intervene, but the man, like before, batted them away, sending them into the dirt with bloodied faces.

Finally he turned. “Tell the mage to come with the White Feather to the northern tower in the harbor at sunset, or she dies.”

They fled for help as he led Sakura out of the camp, her legs shaking. “Where are you taking me?”

He didn’t answer, simply pushed Sakura forward as he released his steal grip. “Walk,” he commanded.

She knew she wouldn’t be able to escape him.