Large hessian tents were everywhere in the wood, dotted through the huge oak and beech trees that protected them from all winds and weathers. Elani traders from Bramshire had visited the Vale the day before and the furs and hides they had brought with them were hung over lines tied between the trees, ready for the people to put them to use.

Outside each tent, a small pile of firewood was neatly stacked, and hanging from a pole a lantern glowed, to show others that the occupants were home and welcoming.

Sorrel lit the lantern outside her home as evening approached and warmed her hands by it for a few seconds before going inside.

The tent was one of the smaller ones, cosy and warm. Her mother, Helena the healer, was sitting by the stone stove making soup while her brother Leif sat at the table carving a walking stave from a yew branch. He looked up as she sat down, sweeping a fall of dark hair from his eyes. "Old Synan told us about your outburst in class today," he said.

"It wasn't an outburst," she replied, indignant, "it was a moral objection."

Leif frowned and put down his knife. "To what? To being privileged enough to be taught to become an Elder? What's the matter with you?"

Sorrel's mother looked up from the soup but stayed silent, allowing Leif to deal with her.

"No," she said, "I was objecting to the fact that you all presume I'm to become an Elder, when I don't want to be."

Leif folded his arms and studied her face. "And what do you want, Sorrel?" he asked. "No wait, don't even answer that, we all know the answer."

She stood up, unable to stop herself. "I want to be a warrior!" she cried. "A warrior like you are, like Dad was! Why is that so much to ask?" She stared at Leif and then at her mother.

"Sorrel..." tried her mother, raising a placating hand. "Please try to understand. We don't want you to get hurt. You're very precious to us."

"There's no point trying to be reasonable with her," Leif said, his eyes not leaving Sorrel's. "She won't listen, she's too stubborn like her father was."

A flare of anger rose up inside her. The tears welled up in her eyes as she glared at her brother, her cheeks felt red-hot. "Our father!" she yelled. She slammed her fists down on the table. "How dare you speak about him like that? He died protecting us, Leif, or have you forgotten that?"

Leif opened his mouth to answer but she threw her arms in the air and stormed out of the tent. She stood outside brooding, her arms folded and her back to the tent. She could hear Leif's weary sigh. "Sorrel... Mother, I'll have to go after her."

"Send Little Cloud," said her mother. "She listens to him. Please, Leif."

She didn't wait for her brother to leave the tent and see her standing there. She ran through the wood.

#

Slavemaster Noan and a party of fifty Lamya rode down the hillside into the Vale on black horses. He halted and held up his hand to silence the group. Horses snorted and stamped the ground. Within seconds, his keen eyes had picked out the lantern lights shining from the woodland. Noan's lips twitched into a grim smile and he held his sword aloft. The others followed suit. There was total silence for a brief moment and then he lowered his sword, giving the signal to charge.

#

Helena looked up from stirring the soup as a scream cut through the night air. She pushed herself to her feet and dashed from the tent, heart pumping. Sorrel!

Everything was quiet for just a moment and then more shouts, another scream, hoof beats. People ran at her from the trees and past her, their faces pale and panic-stricken. She jumped back as a man on a huge black horse charged by, running his sword through the side of the tent. She gasped in fright and covered her head with her arms.

"Helena! Here!"

She looked towards the voice, her neighbour and friend White Cloud huddled with his wife Rebecca beneath another ruined hessian tent a short distance from where she stood.

"Quickly," he called. "It's the Lamya!"

Helena threw herself under the tent, pulling material over her head, as the Lamya whirled about on their horses, catching many of her friends with nets and rope nooses. People screamed and cried out and somewhere, metal clashed. Many of the men held flaming torches and as well as the smoke she was sure she could smell burning.

"What do they want?" she whispered, her eyes wide. "Are they burning the wood?"

White Cloud shushed her as one of the Lamya horses slowly trotted past their hiding place, and pulled the tent farther over their heads. The man stopped and dismounted, boots jangling as his feet hit the ground. Helena held her breath and shrank back.

#

"Sir! Here!"

Noan pulled on the reins and stopped his horse. A shaking huddle under a collapsed tent made him smirk and he nodded to the other man who lifted the corner of the hessian with his sword.

An Elani with long white braids leapt up and swung a staff, roaring "run" at the two women who lay flat on the ground. As the enraged Elani knocked the sword from the grip of Noan's subordinate, Noan lashed out with the pommel of his own weapon as his horse shifted beneath him, and struck the man on the back of the head - hard. The Elani fell in a senseless heap.

"Thank you, sir," said Noan's man, retrieving his fallen sword and giving a grateful nod. "He nearly had me there."

Noan looked down at the Elani and screwed up his face; there was nothing he hated more than an Elani with spirit. They should know their place and behave in accordance. "Put him with the others, then set fire to this place. I'll get the other two." He put his heels to his horse and left.

#

Sorrel was in Synan's teaching hut, sulking, when she heard the noise. Distant at first, like thunder or… horses – pounding through the earth and making the wood vibrate beneath her feet. Traders had horses but traders didn't arrive in the middle of the night, at what sounded like a gallop. She pressed her ear to the door, her heart in her throat, straining all her senses. She didn't dare open the door but what if her family needed her?

Be brave, like Dad.

Screams made her pause with her hand on the door, but the sounds quietened, she took a deep breath and—

Her brother Leif and best friend Little Cloud burst in on her and she jumped back with a gasp. Cloud was breathing heavily and his lip bled.

"What's happened?" she asked, looking towards Leif. "What's going on?" Her stomach twisted. "It's the Lamya, isn't it? They've come."

Leif nodded. "They're in the wood, Sorrel, everywhere! Cloud and I were on our way to find you when we bumped into them charging down the hillside."

Sorrel looked from Leif to Cloud, who continued the tale in a shaky voice. "One struck me with his sword hilt and tried to grab me but Leif knocked him down with his staff." Little Cloud rubbed his head. "Then they surrounded us. We were trapped! Sorrel, it was horrible."

She turned to Leif, wide-eyed. "What happened?"

"The Elani warriors," he said, standing taller. "They got us away, but the Lamya still managed to get through to the wood. I have to go now, Sorrel, stay here with Cloud."

She hurried to her brother's side as he left the hut, and tugged at his arm. "Let me go with you. I can fight!"

Leif took hold of her shoulders, none too gently, and pushed her back inside. "I said stay here. That's an order, Sorrel."

"But..." She could only watch as he hurried away, though she itched to run after him. She turned back to Cloud. "Our parents are there!"

Little Cloud wiped his mouth and stared in shock at the blood on the back of his hand. When he looked up, his eyes were full of fear. "Don't go," he said, as she hesitated in the doorway. "Sorrel, stay."

She closed the door, crouched down by his side on the furs and held his hand. "I'm here," she said. "We're safe here. Leif will be back soon with good news, I know he will. Don't worry, Cloud, don't worry."

And she sat, gripped Cloud's hand and hoped all would be well.