Lithoniel's return was like a soothing balm on an open wound for the survivors. The proceeded way faster than before, even more quickly than when the Nightstalker was in command. Of course the fact she'd faced another impossible challenge and came back alive had a big part in raising their morale.

Unfortunately for Lithoniel, her actions did nothing but increase her reputation, widening the gap between her and the others and turning their faith into something close to fanaticism. But the survivors' attitude it wasn't the only thing that changed.

It was Garluin who surprised her most. During all the travel he'd kept staring at her, his gaze clinical like he was trying to dissect her, maybe to discover the reason why his plan had failed. He worried her, but not as much as Liara. The small elf was quickwitted and smart but kept behaving in the same way as before like a newborn of a small animal. Whatever happened to her down there, she wasn't getting any better. They were close to their destination, less than two leagues away from their home when Kolvar approached her.

"How is your arm?" He asked.

"A bit stiff but otherwise fine" She replied.

"You don't have to act with me. You know that, right?" His tone was hushed and soft. "All the people here know how tough and brave you are."

Lithoniel averted her gaze. She couldn't bear to look at his eyes, filled with worry for her well being mixed with longing.

"I know" She whispered back.

She felt dirty. She was lying to him. To all of them. Her arm wasn't just getting better, but completely healed, the wound on her leg no more than a scar. But the guilt she was feeling was a small price to pay compared to the alternatives. She didn't want to add any more arrows to the quiver of her detractors. They had more than enough as it was.

She was too tall for an elf, her lineaments too soft and her bust too big. Her hair was close to the silver of the fabled high elves of old, only not close enough. Even her ears, elongated but rounder than the usual elf, were a matter of discussion among her peers. And then there were her grey-purple eyes. They were called unusual by her few friends, unnatural by the majority of the tribe and eerie by her foes. A constant reminder of her position inside the tribe. No matter how many years passed or what Kolvar and Rolim said to convince her: she was a stranger, barely a step above an intruder.

"Cover your face" Kolvar reminded, pointing somewhere.

Lithoniel followed his finger and looked at the skies. Ashes and dust kept falling there at regular intervals, painting gray the black soil. It was another unfortunate consequence of living in a land filled with active volcanoes. Harmless most of time, the dust storms were a natural occurrence in the Embersea just like the gray smoke rising from the mountains and the somber clouds originated by it. When Lithoniel brushed her feet against the soil something like a black powder rose, indiscernible from ashes except for the difference of color.

They'd had almost reached their destination when she saw something. Footprints. It wasn't so strange since they were so close to the village. What was strange, however, was from where they came.

South-west from the village. Lithoniel bit her lips. There were just the mountains of the West Ridge in that direction, and since their tribesmen never went that way, there could be just one conclusion: they had to belong to someone from outside the tribe, other elves judging from the shape and size of the footprints.

"Rolim." She said, calling him from the back of their group.

She wanted another opinion, and Rolim was a better tracker than her, maybe the best in the entire tribe. Rolim frowned when he saw her expression and scowled when he crouched down to examine the footprints.

"A rival tribe?" She asked after a while, hoping he would deny it.

Unfortunately, he didn't. He nodded instead, his face looking grimmer and grimmer by the minute.

"How many?" She asked since it was what she wanted to know from the start.

The elves used to travel in a single line, walking over the steps of the ones before them to hide their numbers.

"Dozens." Rolim said, "Maybe thirty or forty hunters."

"They headed to the village?" Lithoniel asked, but Rolim shook his head.

"I can't say for now."

Lithoniel nodded. In any case, they had to reach the village first.

"Better get moving." She said.

It was already past sunset when they reached their destination. The plateau where their tribe lived was like a natural fortress rising over the desolation of the Great Penumbra. There was only one path to the camp, guarded day and night by the tribe's hunters.

No alarm rose when they entered inside the encampment. Lithoniel wasn't surprised. Even during the night, the lookouts could see any intruders from miles ahead. What surprised her was to find half the tribe, if not all of it, waiting for them at the small square at the center of the plateau.

She saw Elwin the Woodkeeper and recognized Naevys the Loremaster. The old woman scrutinized her, searching for an answer on her face. Lithoniel couldn't bear to look at her. She stiffened, lowering her gaze, an action by itself worth more than one thousands words. The other survivors more or less did the same.

Some sobs and whispers rose inside the crowd, but they waited for the old woman to talk. Elwin face was sterner than usual, but Naevys reaction was way worse. She seemed frozen solid as if she couldn't believe what she saw reflected in the survivors' faces.

"What happened?" Elwin asked at the end.

The old elf furrowed his brow seeing that all the survivors were looking at Lithoniel, waiting for her to speak. It was the respect usually bestowed only to the Nightstalker, a chain of command no different from a wolves pack. Lithoniel opened her mouth, before closing it.

What was she supposed to say? The truth? That the Nightstalker didn't listen to her "feeling" and brought the hunters to meet their death? Or maybe she should lie, depicting him like a hero facing the beast till the end?

But she never had the time to answer. An old lady emerged from the crowd, elbowing her way through before stopping in front of her. When the slap came, Lithoniel recoiled, the burning pain on her cheek second only to her guilt.

"Give him back to me!" She shouted, her tear stricken face twisted by grief and anger.

"Tinesia!"Elwin shouted, but the woman lifted her hand a second time to slap her again.

Lithoniel could have avoided it, but she just stood there instead, waiting for a punishment she thought she deserved. However, the blow never came. Rolim sneaked on Tinesia's back, slipped his hands underneath her armpits and locked them behind her head.

"Let go of me!" Tinesia hissed, trying to wiggle out of his grasp, but Rolim's arms didn't budge. "It is your fault!" She spat to Lithoniel.

"Stop blabbering nonsense woman..."Kolvar began.

"Shut up! You are her pet!" Tinesia lashed at him. "You wanted his position, right? You, abomination!" She hissed to Lithoniel.

Lithoniel felt a chill when she heard that word. She sneaked a glance at the crowd, realizing that Tinesia's ranting was taking hold of them. Their eyes were watching her, judging her. Someone was nodding, others whispering and even Elwin seemed doubtful.

Kovlar talked again, and Tinesia answered. She could see their fists tightening and their nostrils flaring, she could read their lips but she couldn't hear them, not anymore. The sound of their voices was replaced by an indistinct buzzing, vague and far. It was only when Garluin stepped forward that her ears started working again as if she could feel the impending doom reflected in the young elf's face.

"I am sorry for your loss." He said to Tinesia. "Your husband was more than a master for me. He was like a father."

Tinesia's expression softened a little, her rage soothed by his words.

"The Nighstalker loss is a heavy blow for us all" Garluin said solemnly, addressing the crowd." He died like he lived, as a hero. None of us would be here if it wasn't for his sacrifice."

"But it's not Lithoniel's fault." Garluin said, polarizing the crowd's attention. "She risked her own life to save us."

Mutters of surprise and incredulity rose from the tribesmen. Someone seemed doubtful, but the majority of them lowered their heads, sneaking guilty glances at Lithoniel. It wasn't a secret that the relationship between Garluin and Lithoniel had always been terrible, and the fact that her worst foe was praising her made the story all the more credible.

After Garluin's words, Kovlar's mouth was wide open, but the most surprised was Lithoniel herself. She bit her lips seeing Garluin's expression. There was a strange glint in his eyes, and Lithoniel couldn't help but ask herself what he was planning now. This was the perfect opportunity to strike her down for good, but he chose to help her instead. When Tinesia started to sob, Rolim released her, probably realizing she wasn't a danger anymore. She sat on the ground, crying softly, and she wasn't the only one.

"Quiet." Naevys said.

Her voice carried only a shadow of its former strength, but it was enough to draw a veil of silence in the small square.

Naevys looked ten years older than the last time Lithoniel had seen her, and she wasn't young to begin with. She seemed frail, withered, even older than Elwin, and the Woodkeeper wasn't called the "Ancient" without reason.

"Tomorrow we will hold a ceremony to honor the fallen. Disperse now." She ordered, with the tone and dignity of someone used to rule.

Little by little the tribesmen scattered, returning to their tents. No one grumbled or complained, not even Tinesia. Every one of them trusted Naevys' judgment, believed the Loremaster that led them for so many winters. Lithoniel was about to do the same, but Naevys stopped her.

"Not you Lithoniel. I want to speak with you." The old woman glanced at the few people who were still there before adding. "In private."

Without further ado, she headed toward the biggest tent at the center of the encampment, followed by Elwin right after. Lithoniel sighed. Talking with Naevys was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment but as usual in her life, what she wanted and what she was forced to do by the circumstance were two completely different things.