Sochai stood and watched. He envisioned the image of the Flute Demon, of her dripping tumor, of her skin like a venomous toad’s and a crooked mouth so twisted that she always seemed to be sneering. He thought of her face when she stabbed him through the arm and when she prevented him from reaching the poison-user on Redwood Cliff. Because of her, he lost this only chance of finding an antidote.

  Never in his life had he dreamed of anything so ugly.

  With a silent shout, he charged toward the Green Dragons.

  But she didn’t deserve this ...

  The burning heat in his chest returned, but his legs felt strong, and he knew he would make it. He closed the distance in three bounds, drew his saber, and killed a man. He kicked away the coat that covered her face, sshed another, then spun around to kill a third.

  The heat in his chest roared through him in a wave of excruciating torment. Sochai dropped to his knees. The remaining men stumbled back, their weapons drawn but shaking, their eyes in shock.

  The Flute Demon gradually turned over. She wrapped the torn coat tightly around herself, held her left ribs, trembling, barely able to crawl. She reached for her flute.

  The Green Dragons eyed the corpses in front of them, and ever so slightly lifted their weapons and inched toward the fallen Mongolian. The hot blood trickling from his mouth was darker than usual. The poison must have infiltrated most of his liver. Slowly, he eased into the frozen ground, his rigid frame lying face down in a crooked arch.

  One warrior, taking small, careful steps, stepped in to ssh him. Sochai couldn’t move, stared at his approach, tried to lift the saber that was too heavy for him. He grimaced in anticipation of the blow.

  There was a loud cng of colliding steel. The young man stumbled back, and Sochai rexed. The Flute Demon was there to save him.

  Maybe she wanted to kill him with her own hands.

  The remaining warriors inched forward with weapons shaking. The Flute Demon, unsteady, pulled Sochai to his feet.

  “How many can you handle?” she whispered into his ear.

  His gre was more devilish than ever. “All of them.”

  He broke free, ignoring the burst of pain in his body, and leaped in to cut down his enemies. The Flute Demon was not far behind him. In the blink of an eye, five Green Dragons had fallen.

  The Green Dragons turned tail and fled. Sochai charged after them with a roar, but only managed a few shaky steps before a new surge of pain coursed through his body. He colpsed.

  “He’s injured!” one of them shouted.

  Sochai lifted his face and scowled. They stopped running to turn around.

  “They’re both injured! Come on! There are so many of us! We can kill them!”

  “Kill the Flute Demon! Kill the Barbarian!”

  Faces dark with hate and smeared with blood, the Green Dragons lifted their swords and charged.

  “Run!” The Flute Demon whispered. She pulled him to his feet and pressed him against her damaged left ribs so her right hand could be free. The Green Dragons shouted their vilest insults, taunting them to stop and fight.

  On the far end of the field, a barren forest stood in a sad state of decay. The trees were not dense enough to hide them, but it was better than the open grounds they were running from. The Flute Demon dragged the Mongolian through. In a few steps, she too colpsed onto the uneven earth.

  “Run,” Sochai said. “Do not save me, I will kill you when I recover.”

  Her lips curved into a bitter sneer. She climbed to her feet, held him tightly and continued down the field. There was no need to look back—their pursuers were still a good distance away. They had time.

  Sochai spat a mouthful of thick blood; so dark in color he wondered if he was really alive. He thought he heard her say, “Force yourself to run! We can hide in the forest.”

  The ground seemed to move away from him with every step. But he couldn’t fall. The Flute Demon held onto him, crying softly in pain, but never slowing. The forest loomed closer; the insults behind them became farther away. They passed a thick tangle of rotted branches and entered deep into the forest.

  The world began to darken. The gray of dusk seeped through the air, enveloping the snow, blending the earth into one shadow.

  With a weary sigh, the Mongolian’s knees smmed into the ground. The Flute Demon pulled, but his overbearing weight broke her bance and she crumbled next to him.

  Then there was silence. Nothing moved in the forest, except their heaving chests struggling for air. Sochai’s enormous frame wracked and trembled, struggling to endure, to cling onto life just a little longer.

  Then gradually, their breathing eased. Even Sochai calmed.

  “They’re not behind us,” the Flute Demon said. “We lost them in the forest.”

  Sochai shifted his weight to the side of his body. “Wolves!” he whispered.

  “Wolves?”

  He held up a trembling finger, a signal for her to speak softly. “They are approaching.” He indicated the drops of blood in front of him. Very quickly, the wolves would find them.

  “They should go for the bodies first,” she said.

  “The men who chased us will collect their dead,” he said. “There will be nothing left. The wolves will come for us.”

  The Flute Demon stared at the empty forest, and slowly, her face darkened. She reached for a stick of dry wood on the forest floor, and bundled it against smaller leaves and twigs. The Mongolian drew his saber one inch at a time; the dull sound of his bde scraping against its sheathe seemed to st forever until the weapon was freed.

  “We’re losing light,” she said. “The wolves will attack when the sun sets.”

  She stacked the wood loosely in front of her and reached into her pocket for the flint stones.

  If they couldn’t find their way out before dark, then fire would be their only chance of survival. Grimacing, Sochai listened for the wolf pack.

  The Flute Demon struck the flints and watched a shower of sparks cover her bed of leaves. She struck again, then again.

  “How much longer?” Sochai asked.

  “It’s too cold. I don’t know.”

  Sochai lifted his face to the heavens. The forest was silent. He drew a deep breath, pnted his saber into the snow and climbed to his feet. He felt nauseous and weak, his legs rubbery and lifeless.

  “Wolves are afraid of humans,” she said softly. “Even when they’re hungry.”

  “No,” Sochai said. “Wolves are afraid of the strong; they hunt down the weak. They can sense that an animal is weak or injured.”

  “Like us?”

  “Yes.”

  The Flute Demon struck the flint, but the sparks died when they fell upon the frozen branches. “The wolves. Where are they? I need more time.”

  Sochai reached over her shoulder and sprinkled light green powder onto the branches.

  “What is that?”

  “Something my friend gave me.”

  The Flute Demon struck the flints again, and with a gentle bst, the branches were engulfed in fmes.

  “Incredible ...” she muttered to herself. She grabbed the bundled twigs, made a torch, and handed it to Sochai. She picked a separate branch from the ground and ignited it for herself.

  Sochai watched with interest. The thought of killing her faded as he stood beside her, holding the torch with one hand and the naked bde with the other. They came into this forest together, and somehow, if he wanted to kill her, he would have to do it after they escaped together.

  “Do you know the terrain?” he asked.

  The Flute Demon shook her head. “There are no roads in this forest—no one goes in here. I heard that the other side of the forest is the coastline.”

  They moved away, their torches strong and held at waist level. The sun continued to set. Soon, they sensed hungry eyes watching from a distance.

  “How much longer before the poison disables you again?”

  “Why don’t you tell me that?” Sochai asked in a harsh whisper. The forest began to slope downward. They trudged in steady steps and moved through the dense foliage of rotted bushes. The cunning wolves were hidden, but they were certainly stalking, inching closer with every heartbeat.

  “How many are there?”

  “I cannot tell,” Sochai replied, his voice weaker than before. “They are quiet when they approach their prey.”

  “The sun is descending ...”

  A gray figure sprang out of nowhere and closed its dripping jaws on the Mongolian’s arm. Sochai uttered a scream, pummeled the torch into the wolf’s face, sent it sprawling, then shed out a vicious side-stroke across the wolf’s head.

  The smell of fresh blood aroused the rest of the pack. At once, three more wolves leaped in, charging directly into Sochai’s extinguished torch. He was losing consciousness and they could sense it.

  The Flute Demon stepped in front, shielding him with her own body, the small fme on her torch twirling before the approaching wolves. She sshed at the nearest predator and tore a gash across its face. The rest backed off.

  Sochai began to colpse again. She slid behind him, preventing him from falling, so he could lean on her.

  “Do not run,” Sochai whispered. “They can sense fear. They can sense weakness.”

  His eyes dimmed and he could barely stand.

  She took a deep breath, maintaining control, supporting all his weight and pulled away. The wolves trailed behind them.

  The sun began its final descent. Golden rays flooded in from the heavens and diagonally sliced through the trees.

  There was movement from behind, as subtle as a light breeze. They’d been circled. The Flute Demon turned too te; a wolf sprang off the ground in utter silence, jaws opened, front paws stretching out for her eyes. She jerked back to avoid the impact. The wolf struck her across the face and sent her spinning into the hard ground. Then, the remaining predators charged. She scrambled on the forest floor, and for a moment, couldn’t position herself against multiple attackers.

  Sochai suddenly came to life. He bolted forward with a howl and sliced a wolf across the neck. He spun around and sshed at the pack, completely missing, but the wolves withdrew.

  The Flute Demon rushed to his side, her torch pointed, keeping the wolves at a distance. She wrapped her arms around him, protecting him.

  There was a familiar object on the ground. Sochai focused his eyes. It was a piece of flesh, a tumor that used to hang from the Flute Demon’s eye. His mouth opened. Half of her face was torn open, the skin dangling in useless shreds.

  What y underneath was not blood or ruptured tissue, but fair skin. Her rge almond eyes, freed from the tumor, glittered against the golden light.

  “Wei Fei Fei,” Sochai whispered. She turned to him, the same way she looked at him the night before, standing next to her grandmother’s coffin in front of hundreds of guests.

  His grandfather’s words echoed in his mind again. “Beauty that could destroy entire kingdoms ...”

  Every bit of strength left him and he colpsed into her arms.

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