Tearing past the two men on horses, the girl ran to the waterfall, looking back over her bare shoulder, as if something were after her. Plunging in, she tore the ripped, dirty tunic off, shaking free of it, and swimming towards the cave behind the 'falls. There, naked and shivering, she pulled herself up onto a rocky ledge, tucking her legs up close to her body, trying to will the thing away. She felt it, a cloud of darkness moving towards her as the tall wiry man moved out of the brush around the pond. Evil can't touch water, evil can't touch water, evil can't touch water, she silently chanted.  The man let out a loud string of rather obscene curses as he paced the pond, most having something to do with the girl's parentage. Barely making out his words over the roar of the protective falls, she winced as she heard a particularly stinging remark go by.
 "Can we help you sir?" one of the men on the horses asked him as they cantered out of the woods.
  "It's that girl! She's back there again, curse her!" was his loud reply, as he shook his bow towards the falls. The two mounted men hurriedly spoke, whispering, as the man strung his bow.

 "The girl that ran past us?" the first man whispered.
 "Must be," was the reply.  Z-zphwing! An arrow flew into the waterfall. The girl saw the water catch it, and pull it down into the pool below. She curled up tighter, trying to force herself back into a crack in the stone of the cave.
 "Sir! Sir, please, I'll go see if there's anyone there," the first man dismounted, and stripped off his shirt. Diving in, he swam for the falls. The second man swung down from his saddle to stand next to the agitated archer.
"Conor'l find her, don't worry," he reassured him.

 The waterfall loomed ahead of Conor.
"I must be loony," he commented , feeling the weight of the water crashing down.  Holding his breath, Conor pulled himself through the curtain of water, the force of it pinning him to the pond bottom until he broke free, stroking with all his might. "Crazy fool, how could anyone get back here, unless they were some kind of god?" he asked as he shook the water out of his eyes. He looked around him, at the cave, and his gaze landed on the girl. She was cowering in a corner, watching him warily through a curtain of long dark hair. Conor waded over to her. She curled up tighter, her eyes flickering form one side to another nervously. "I'm not going to hurt you. Why don't I help you down from there?" he extended a hand cautiously to the girl. She shook her head violently. "Come on, you're safe with me. I won't let that man get to you," he continued.
 "Gwynanu," she whispered, her eyes widening in alarm. "He won't get me, he won't!" she screamed, and leapt off the rock she sat on, into the waterfall.
 "No, WAIT!" Conor yelled, too late as he saw her jump, and, recovering, plunged under the fall after her. Her touched her ankle, and she kicked him away. He came up sputtering after receiving the blow. The man, Gwynanu, jerked his bow up, aiming at Conor's head. "It's me! It's me! Don't shoot!" he yelled, quickly.
 "Where is she?" Gwynanu harshly shouted.
 "I don't know!" Conor replied from the middle of the pool. "She jumped off the-" he broke off as Gwynanu jerked his bow sideways, firing off a shot as the girl surfaced at the edge of the pool.
  "MORRAH!" Gwynanu screamed. "I'll kill you, girl!" Her hair plastered to her face, Morrah looked back to where Gwynanu stood, and then like a frightened doe, took off into the forest. Gwynanu hurled another few insults, and took off after her. Conor waded back to where Fergus stood with the horses.
  "Should we follow?" he asked.
 "Do you want'a, son?" Fergus replied. Shrugging into his shirt Conor half chuckled.
  "I don't know, I like my head in one piece..." he trailed off. Fergus laughed.
 "Ach, he won't be able to catch up tae her anyhow. Did ye see the legs on th' girl?"
 "Did I ever," Conor replied, grinning. "She didn't have a stitch on." Fergus shook his head.
"C'mon you. Back tae camp." They mounted their horses, and cantered around the pool towards the Sanctuary.

Morrah ran and ran, trying to escape Gwynanu and his dark magicks. He would kill her if he caught her, she was sure of it. He was shooting the very arrows she had made for him, too. Slowing, she heard a crashing in the trees, and whirled to face Gwynanu. "This is the END for you, Morrah, the END!" he yelled with a sickening glee as he leveled the bow at her. She turned back to run, but he was faster than she was, his arrow finding it's mark in her side. Dazed, she looked down at it, dropping to her knees. Another arrow lodged in her chest, and she fell backwards, her crimson blood staining her white skin. Gwynanu moved to stand over her, and he laughed sadistically.
"You won't be able to tell ANYONE  now!" he spat. He shoved his booted heel into her stomach, knocking the breath out of her, and then roughly kicked the side of her head, sending her spinning into blackness.

Conor and Fergus were a little less than halfway back to the Sanctuary when through the trees, Fergus heard a weak moan. Conor reined his horse in, turning towards the sound.
 "That way," he said, nodding in the right direction. They moved warily through the trees, looking around, when suddenly, Fergus' horse shied away, throwing him off. As Conor heard the thump of Fergus hitting the ground, he spied someone in a small grove, not far off.
 "Fergus! Look!" he said, excitedly, looking back to his guardian.  "Go on an' see wha' it is, I'll catch th' horse, and get back to camp." Fergus replied. Conor nodded, and dismounted, leading his horse through the underbrush, towards the figure.

Morrah lay where she had fallen, the arrows lodged deep in her flesh. Conor tied his horse to a nearby branch, and went to investigate. Realizing who it was, he quickened his pace. Snagging the blanket off the back of his horse, he kneeled by her side, trying to untangle her hair from the two arrows. She groaned, and swung her arm, as if trying to fight him off.
 "Don't, don't," he murmured, "you'll hurt yourself worse." He pushed her hair back, exposing her bloody, bare skin. "Looks like someone took a disliking to you," he said, probing his fingers around the two arrows, "Morrah? If you can hear me, I'm going to try to pull the arrows out, alright? This may hurt." Her gripped the shaft of the arrow in her side, pulling gently. She turned her head away. "I'm going to pull now," he informed her. The arrow slid out smoothly, sending another cascade of blood down her side. Tearing a bandage from the blanket, he bound it around her waist, stopping the crimson flow. "Now I'm going to do the other one," he whispered, more for himself then for the girl. As he took the shaft of the arrow in her chest, she weakly gripped his wrist. "You'll be O.K.," he told her, as he twisted the other arrow out. Blood gushed out, spreading over his hands, and the girl moaned in pain. Conor grabbed the blanket, tearing another piece from it. "Morrah, I need you to hold this here," he told her, taking the hand that had been on his wrist, and having her hold the bandage over the second arrow-wound.  She weakly complied. That taken care of, Conor realized he was shaking. He leaned back on a nearby tree, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. As he opened them again, he realized that Morrah was still totally naked, and shivering cold. "Sweet Brigit!" he exclaimed, borrowing Fergus' favorite expression. Taking the remnants of the blanket, he wrapped it tightly around her, and lifted her to the back of the horse, mounting behind her.  She fell back against his chest, and he held her up with one arm as they galloped towards the Sanctuary.

 "Fergus! FERGUS!" Conor hollered as they galloped through the gates to the Sanctuary. Fergus appeared from behind,
 "What is it, lad?" he asked, then saw the girl and the bloody blanket she was wrapped in. Conor had gotten down, and was holding her while Fergus gaped. "You found her?" he asked, stupidly.  "Yes, and she's hurt, badly. Find Mother Ceridwin, tell her to come to my chamber," Conor called over his shoulder as he moved towards his room.
 

He opened the door, and a blast of cold air slapped him in the face.  The fire had gone out, and Morrah was shivering again. Conor turned sideways, and edged through the door, trying not to hit the girl's dangling feet. He gently deposited her on the bed, piling blankets over her as he went to re-build the fire.  As a new log popped and crackled in the fireplace, Mother Ceridwin shuffled in the door with her herbs and potions.
  "Where's this girl Fergus tells me about?" she asked in her gravely voice.
 "Here," Conor said, moving from the fireplace to the bed, and pulling the blankets over Morrah down.
 "Arrows, I presume?" Ceridwin asked.  Conor nodded.  "It will be a while, why don't you go do something somewhere else," she continued, shooing Conor out the door. He raised his fist to bang on the door, and then thought better of it, leaving to find somewhere to sit and think.

Caitlin found him, hours later, at dusk, staring into the fire.  "Conor?"
  "Hmm?" he raised his head, looking at her.
  "What's wrong?"
  "Oh, nothing," he lied.
 "Conor," she reprimanded, "Something's wrong."
 "Fine," Conor said, sensing the futility of lying any longer. "It's that girl, Morrah. What did she do to deserve death? She's just a girl, who could hate her that much?"

Cait sighed. "I don't know. Why do the Romans hate us?"

 Conor put his head in his hands.
 "I don't know. This is getting too involved. I'm going to bed,"
 "It'll get better." Caitlin said, patting him on the back as he rose.

His door was ajar, and firelight flickered on the opposite wall. Gently pushing the door open, he tiptoed into the warm fire-lit room.. Mother Ceridwin met him coming out.
 "She's not awake," Ceridwin said, seeing the concern on his face. He nodded, his eyes not leaving the girl on the bed. Ceridwin moved past him, and he closed the door. Being careful not to jostle Morrah, he took one of the unused blankets from the bed, and spread it out on the floor. Stripping his tunic off, he hung it on the peg above the bed, brushing Morrah's hair across her face. As he knelt to smooth it back, her eyelids fluttered open. She focused on Conor, who was leaning over her.
 "Thank you," she whispered, hoarsely, her hand going to the chest wound. She felt her own skin, and realized she was naked but for the bandages. As she blushed, Conor realized what she was thinking, and he felt redness creeping up his face. Embarrassed, he looked away.
 "It's alright. You don't need to thank me," he told her, as she sat up and pulled the blankets to cover herself.
 "You saved my life," she replied, "you took the arrows out, and brought me here." Conor only shrugged.
 "Why did you run away from me under the waterfall?" he asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.
 "Oh," she sighed, turning her face away. "It's hard to explain. I guess... well, you scared me. I thought Gwynanu had sent you in to kill me. He said he wouldn't hurt me, but he lied, and I learned not to trust anybody. But then you kept insisting you weren't going to hurt me, and I decided that even if you were lying, and were going to put a knife through me, having you kill me fast would be better than bleeding to death slowly." Tears slowly trickled out of her eyes, and she tried to stifle a sob. Conor was set back by the girl's bloodthirsty view of the world. "He was always trying to hit me, to kick me, he threw things at me, and then when he caught me that night, oh, Brigit, the look on his face," she shuddered, pulling the blanket closer, "when he caught me, he decided to kill me so I couldn't tell his secret. I ran and ran, but it was no good. He can get inside my head, He knows what I'm thinking, where I'm going. The only way to get away was the waterfall, water seems to block his powers, and then you came plunging in, and I thought he had sent you, and you were going to drag me out, back to him...." She was sobbing hard enough now that she couldn't speak.
 "No, no ,you're safe now," Conor hugged her.
  "No I'm not, as soon as he realizes I'm still alive, he'll come after me." She lapsed into another fit of sobbing at this realization.  "But we won't let him hurt you, we'll keep him away." Conor insisted.
"You don't understand. He knows I'm alive. He knows where I am. He can get inside my head and drive me mad, kill me that way. I'm not safe anywhere anymore. Not even here." she silenced Conor's argument. "I've seen what he's done to people, turned them into puppets for his will. That's why he's going to kill me. I saw him turn a clan leader into a demon. I know his powers, therefore I can kill him." Morrah rose, and started pacing the floor, the sheet wrapped and draped over her muscular form. "He's a mind-bender, and one way or another, he will break me to his purpose. I am the strongest mind he has ever risen against, making me even more desirable as one of his demons. If he has my power, he will be unstoppable." She stopped pacing and sat heavily on the edge of a chest. "It's hopeless. Staying here is just endangering you. He'll use any means nesscesary to take me away. He'll turn me on you. He's done it before, and I don't.....oh, I don't want to hurt you, not anybody, but especially not you, after all you've done," she tucked her legs underneath her, re-draping the sheet until she looked like a woodland spirit.  Conor sat on the bed, at a loss for words. Morrah had assessed her situation, well, almost too well, and there was no way out. Anything he, or Caitlin, or even Fergus could do was no match to a man like Gwynanu. Morrah put one white-covered hand to her face, wiping at tear-stained cheeks. Conor moved to sit behind her, trying to comprehend all she had said. Dazed, he almost didn't realize that she had rested her head on his shoulder, seeking what comfort she could get. "I never caught your name," she said, looking up at him.
 "Sorry, it's Conor."
 "Morrah, named after the Goddess Morrigu, goddess of death, magic, huntresses,  and the moon." She made a sound of disgust. "As if I needed any reason for Gwynanu to hate me more, I live up to all of those qualities, even though the magic is rather untrained. I know enough basic healing that I should be fine by morning.." She showed her wounded side, now covered in a thin layer of new skin. "All I did was speed up the healing."
Conor pulled back as if burned.
 "You're a sorceress?"
 "Hardly. He refused to train me in more than the basic magics, because I would be so much more powerful than him, so the majority of it is just raw power."
 "But still, you know how to wield some of it?"
 "Some, not much. I'm deadly with a sword, though." She grinned.
 "You'll have to show me," Conor yawned. "For now, though, how about turning in for the night?"
 "Sounds good." She yawned too. Unfolding her legs, she rose and stretched.
 "You take the bed." Conor said.
 "Are you sure? I'll be fine on the floor..."
 "Take the bed."
 "If you insist." She shrugged, and swung into the warm blankets. The fire had just about gone out, and as she tucked herself in, Conor added a new log.
 "Good night, Conor."
 "Good night."
 

 In the morning, Morrah woke up as the sunlight slapped her in the face. Conor was waist-deep in the chest, pulling things out. She sneezed, and he lifted his head.
 "Good morning.  Something in there-" he gestured to a small bundle on the floor near the bed, "should fit you. They're Caitlin's, I think you're close to the same size." He stood up, holding onto something wrapped in cloth. "I'll be outside." She nodded, and he left. She found a shirt and breeches that fit, and braided her hair back away from her face. Opening the door, she looked around, and saw Conor sitting on a  bench  while a dark skinned man and a tall girl crossed swords under an awning. Squinting in the sun, she walked over.
 "Tully, your side's open." Conor called, and the dark man moved his wooden practice sword to cover. The girl, taking the opportunity, smacked Tully with the flat of her blade, sending him sprawling in the dust.
 "You're wicked, Cait!" Tully complained, picking himself up.
 "No, you need more practice," Caitlin fired back. "Even the girl archer can beat you."
 "May I try?" Morrah asked. The three turned, and Tully tried to hide the smirk on his face, sure he could beat the (he thought) untrained girl.
 "Sure." Caitlin offered her sword. Hefting it, Morrah took a few practice cuts, getting the feel, and then charged in after Tully. They locked blades, and Tully tried to use his weight to force her down. Quickly pulling her blade out, Tully went reeling forward, but the recovered and came back, She made short work of him,  forcing him down to the ground, and deftly flipping his sword into the dust. Conor and Caitlin exchanged surprised looks as Morrah gave the sword back.
 "Thanks." she said. "It's been a while."
 "What else are you that good with?" Tully asked.
 "What am I good at, or what have I been trained to use?" she replied. "They're two different things, you know." Caitlin chuckled.
 "What have you been trained to use." Conor asked. "If you use anything else as well as you use a sword, I'd hate to tangle with you."
Morrah smiled.
 "I've been trained in sword, staff, and some archery, and I picked up some hand-to-hand from Gwynanu. Or should I say, I was forced into using hand-to-hand on Gwynanu." she joked.
 "Here, try this." Conor tossed her a thick ash staff. "Take me on."
Tully snorted.
 "Conor, you're a head taller and weigh more. Do you really think she stands a chance?"
 "She beat you, or does that not count because you're lousy?" Conor teased.  Tully shut up. Morrah looked over the staff, looking for anything that might break.
 "Ready?" Conor asked. Morrah nodded. "Alright, let the games begin." He came after her, trying to knock the staff out of her hands. She was minorly insulted. Did he think she was just going to drop it? She gamely blocked his weak blows.
 "C'mon, man. Fight!" she said, twisting her staff to give him trouble. Conor attacked harder. She attacked back, driving him into defense. As he raised the staff to hit her, she drove the end of her staff into his stomach, hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He sat down with a nice oomph, and stayed down, eyes wide with amazement.
 "You're good." was his only comment. "You seem to know what I'm going to do-" a thought struck him. "You weren't using that mind-trick thing, were you?"
 Morrah shook her head.
 "No! That's dirty fighting!"
 "Mind trick?" Caitlin asked.
 "I'm part sorceress, and there's a way I can get inside other people's mind and know what they're going to-" she abruptly broke off, all color draining from her face. "Oh Brigit save me, he knows." she breathed.  Caitlin and Tully exchanged puzzled looks.  The staff fell from Morrah's hands. "He knows. He knows and he's coming for me. Oh, go! Your soul to Don, go! Leave me! Don damn you to the stone of dirges and the well of ashes seven miles below hell, the White Lady break your bones! And all my calamity and misfortune for life on you!" she spat, and then turned and ran.
 "Morrah!" Conor called. "Morrah! ", and took off after her.
 

 Morrah ran and ran until she hit the corner of the Sanctuary. Crying, she clawed at the walls. Blood ran from under her fingernails, and she sank to the ground.  Hopelessly, she pounded on the walls with her fists. "No, no, NO!" she screamed. Conor rounded a corner, and saw her.
 "Morrah! Morrah, don't!" Kneeling, he grabbed her wrists to stop her.
 "Let go! Let me go!" she screamed, and thrashed from side to side, kicking and scratching in her rush to get away.  Conor pushed her into the corner, using his greater weight to keep her still. Tears ran down her face, and bloody streaks where her fingers had been. She was suddenly still, balled up with fright, her eyes blank of any life. "His army. He's bringing his demon army. I can see them, banding together to start the march here." Her voice was barely a whisper. "He wants me, and he's willing to kill everyone here to get me." Conor's grip on her wrists loosened. "No, no, no! Don't let him kill them, he can't kill everyone here, he can't kill Tully, Caitlin. He can't... kill... you." She shook violently, and held on to Conor's arms. "I see... them... oh, Great God, it's horrible..." She was shaking with fright, almost scared to death. "He's coming, he'll be here by dusk."
 Conor wrapped his arms around her, trying to calm her down.
 "You're safe, you're safe. Calm, calm, I won't let him get to you, not easily," he told her, smoothing back the hair that had escaped from her braid. She buried her face in his shoulder. "No, you should leave, all of you, just let him get me, and this will all be over. Let me go, meet him, I can turn his army back," she said.
 "No! We...I...will not let you do that. If he wants you, he's going to have to fight for you." Conor insisted. Morrah looked at him.
 "You..you really care, don't you? You're not just...saying that? You really mean it?" No one in her life had ever cared before, this was a foreign feeling to her. Conor nodded.
 "I mean it with all my heart."
 Morrah moaned. "He hates you. He wants to kill you, and he may use me to do it."
 "But you couldn't do it, could you? There's no way you could let yourself do that."
 "I couldn't do it, but he could do it from inside me, and there would be no way I could stop him. Oh Gods, I hope it doesn't come to that, but I assume it will."
Conor opened his mouth to say something. Morrah silenced him with a finger over his lips. "Don't trust me. Ever. From this moment on, until I die or he dies, don't trust me. Whatever you do, don't listen to me, don't trust me at all, and stay away from me. If you have to be around me, keep someone else with you, someone strong enough to keep me back if I fight you."  Tears ran silently down Morrah's face, and Conor felt his eyes watering.
 "I...I...I can do that. I trust you, I believe that you're right. It's myself I don't trust."
 "Believe yourself, Conor, in your heart you know what's right. You have to stay away from me if there's any way to win."
 Conor put his arms around her, and cradled her head on his chest. She had her arms around his waist, and he whispered in her ear.
 "Morrah, I love you."
 

 Morrah insisted on being locked into the smallest stone room in the Sanctuary. All the furniture and decorations were removed, at her request, leaving only the girl and a few blankets.  Conor, sad and nervous, refused to leave his station in front of her door. Gwynanu was teasing her, she said, killing the woodland creatures that were her friends. Fergus had gone to spread the alarm, to get everyone armed and ready, temporarily abandoning his post as the guardian Morrah had told Conor to have around her. Caitlin and Tully were leading the defense, periodically one of them would drift in to try to cheer Conor up, but mostly they stayed outside, trying to brace themselves for the battle.
 "Where is he?" Conor asked the girl.
 "Near the waterfall."
 "Not far away. Close."
 "Even when I close my eyes, I see whatever he wants me to." Morrah said, softly, trying to fill the silence.
 "Where is he now?" Conor asked again.
 "He's right at the-" She started shaking, and let out a scream, then dropped to her knees, gasping with fright. Conor fumbled with the bolt on the door in his panic to get in to her.  He threw the door open, and rushed in.
 "Morrah, "
 "The waterfall... it's..oh it's horrible, the waterfall is blood, bodies floating in it-" she went on to describe such a horrible scene Conor couldn't help feeling a bit revolted.
 "It's not real. Morrah, he's playing with you. Don't take it. Fight back!" he insisted.
 She screwed up her face in concentration and muttered a curse on Gwynanu. Halfway through, she let out a scream and fell limp in Conor's arms.
 "Oh, Sweet Brigit, no," Conor whispered as he fumbled for a pulse. It was there, faint, but growing stronger. Her breathing evened out into a gentle sleep rhythm, soon lulling Conor to sleep too...

 Morrah dreamed as she slept, not natural dreams, but visions sent by Gwynanu. Visions of Conor stabbing her, beating her, trying to drown her. As she sat up and gasped for air, the room suddenly went cold, and she felt her awareness being pushed to the back of her brain, someone else crowding into her skull. I will not! she commanded. I will not let him in!! But try as she might, Gwynanu had the power of his demons on his side, and Morrah lost. Gwynanu had taken over her body, and she was powerless to stop him, a passive observer from the inside. But not passive, if I can help it  The Morrah-thing sat up, and shoved Conor's arms off it, taking a swing at the sleeping boy. NO! NO! NO! NO!   Morrah protested, but Gwynanu had blocked out the mind that was Morrah. Dazed, Conor swung back, connecting squarely in the jaw. There was a loud crack, and Conor realized who he had just struck. Now fully awake, he sat up to apologize, when the thing hit him again, in the stomach. I can't hurt Morrah!  Conor protested. But when the Morrah-thing hit him a third time, giving him a bloody nose, he fought back, pulling out his knife The Morrah-thing dove at him, raking her fingernails across Conor's face, and dashing the knife from his hand. The knife clattered to the ground, where the Morrah-thing pounced on it. He dove out of the way, and heard the thing's cry of anger as the knife struck the stone wall.  As it whirled to face him once more, he got a good look at the face. It was Morrah, but she had the most awful look on her face. It was the look of someone who enjoys killing, but somehow, strangely, she was also crying. It was a battle of wills inside her, Morrah fighting Gwynanu for Conor's life. As Conor scrambled to his feet, the thing leapt at him, gouging his side with the knife. He let out a cry of pain, but then readied himself for it's next attack. They circled for a moment, and then the thing dove in low, trying to hit Conor's legs, and knock him off balance. The knife left a scratch along his ankle, as he sidestepped, and the thing went rolling into the wall. It stood up again, and for a minute it was a scared, frightened Morrah. But as Conor moved forward it turned back into the Morrah-Gwynanu-thing, and lunged at his throat. The knife struck him, and went deep into his stomach. Grinning, the thing pulled it out, and jabbed him again in the chest. Conor screamed in pain, and crumpled to the floor. The thing stuck him one last time, ripping the knife down the inside of Conor's leg. Dazed by the pain, his hands felt for the knife in his leg, and jerking it out, gave one last swing, jamming it deep into her thigh. She screamed, and her body seemed to lift into the air, writhing and twisting, as the two minds fought. The room took on a reddish glow, and as the wounded Conor watched, the thing started to scream, and as it screamed, an invisible noose around it's neck tightened. The knife was still lodged in the Morrah-thing's thigh, and she found it and started stabbing herself.

 Gwynanu, in the midst of his army, gave a grim smile as he directed the Morrah-thing to kill itself.  But suddenly, a tremendous wave of power hit him, knocking him backwards. and severing his mind-link with the girl. He heard her mental cry of triumph as she drove him out.
 "No!" he yelled, angry. "She must die!" Now the girl knew she was more powerful, she could keep him out if he tried to get back in.
"Move faster! We strike soon!"
And the demon army moved faster through the night.

 Morrah fell to the ground, the knife still in her hand. Weakly, Conor drug himself over to where she had fallen, his leg throbbing with pain.
 "Morrah." It was barely a whisper. "Morrah, wake up, please. wake up," he begged. She opened her eyes, and smiled, weakly. Conor felt his eyes watering, and his vision blurred. He felt Morrah gently guiding and turning him onto his back, and her gentle hands running over the gashed leg. The pain from the leg abated, and he felt her put her hands over the other wounds, his stomach, his chest, and the scratches across his cheek, and the pain disappeared. She put one hand on his forehead, and the other over his heart, and he felt a soft warmness traveling through his battered body. Through his tears, he saw her sitting beside him like a guardian spirit, blood running from her wounds, but she was strong, and would not let it hurt her. He saw her close her eyes, and she wavered and fell. Conor felt her head come to rest on his chest, her long hair trailing.  She used her healing powers. She was already dead-tired, but she felt she had to save me, heal me before she healed herself.  Conor realized. She shouldn't have done that. She's the one who was hurt worse, having to fight with Gwynanu. She gave up her powers for me.
 "I don't hate you Morrah, I can't hate you," he whispered, and kissed her.

 Morrah had woken up and seen Conor, crying over her, and felt there was only one way to repay him for what she had done. He was like a child she had healed once, crying, and hurt, and scared. Calling on all the power she could muster, she wrapped his ruined leg in healing power, and saw the skin and muscles begin to knit together. She put her hands over the two stabbed places, willing them to heal, and the place on his cheek where she had clawed him,  willing his body to heal, to keep him alive. His people needed him, more than anyone needed her. She sent out wash after wash of power, until suddenly, she couldn't hold herself up any longer. She felt herself falling, and her head coming to rest on his chest. He touched her hair, and before she slipped into darkness, she heard him whisper. "I don't hate you Morrah, I  can't hate you." She felt tears fall out of her eyes, and the black wave engulfed her.

 Out on the front lines of the battle, Gwynanu and the demons were winning , mentally hurling people away. Caitlin and Tully were both hurt, and had left to seek reinforcements. Gwynanu listened carefully, and followed the trail to find Morrah.  He burst into the room, brandishing his own knife. Conor heard the door smack open, but didn't move, assuming it was Fergus. Gwynanu stormed over, and yanked Morrah up, holding her on her feet while he stabbed her again, and again. Conor dimly realized it wasn't Fergus, and reached for his knife. Gwynanu was oblivious to the boy, and kept attacking the unconscious Morrah. Conor dug his knife into Gwynanu's calf, twisting and jerking. Gwynanu dropped Morrah, and dug into Conor's shoulder with his knife.  Conor screamed, again, and blindly stabbed at Gwynanu. Gwynanu, only minorly hurt, sidestepped the attack, stabbing the small of his back, sending the weak Conor face-first into the floor. Kicking him onto his back, Gwynanu pressed the point of his knife into Conor's throat.
 "I'll kill you too, boy."
 "You can kill me," it came out as a hoarse whisper, "if you spare Morrah. She doesn't deserve it."
 Gwynanu chuckled. "No deal, she goes and you go, or only she goes. I'm in a good moo-" Conor had kicked him sharply in the groin, sending him sprawling forward. Moving fast for his condition, Conor plunged the knife into Gwynanu's throat, and then his heart. Gwynanu writhed on the floor, his hands shooting lightning, and sparks coming from his mouth. Conor backed up, trying to shield himself from the dark power spewing from the man. The body shimmered, and disappeared. Outside the demons screamed, as they got pulled down where they belonged.  Conor crawled over to Morrah, his shoulder stinging.
 "Morrah," he croaked, "Morrah, he's gone." She didn't stir. "Morrah." he shook her shoulder. "Morrah!" He gathered the girl's bloody body into his arms, ignoring the pain in his shoulder, and shook her. "Morrah!" She was so light, he didn't believe it was the same girl. "Oh, Morrah, please answer me." Desperately, he kissed her, passionately, on the lips. She made a questioning sound deep in her throat, and her arms went around Conor's neck.  He sighed with relief, and his hot tears of joy and pain fell on her face. One of her hands slipped down to his hurt shoulder, and the familiar healing warmth spread through him. "Morrah, don't do that!" He shook her. "You're too weak, do you hear me? You're too weak, don't try to heal." Her hand moved down to the gash on his back, and another patch of warmth blossomed under her gentle touch. "Morrah, don't! You're going to kill yourself, don't, please, don't. I'll be fine, really."  For the first time he saw the extent of her injuries, the blood from the new wounds seeping through the torn shirt and breeches. Gently pulling the shirt and breeches off, Conor saw the knifed holes in her skin, spread over her body like a deadly rash. Please Nuada, let her live. he prayed, and wrapped the blanket over them both.

 Conor woke in the night to a pleasant warmth on one side of his body. He had turned onto his stomach, and Morrah was pressed against him, her skin white as a nymph's in the moonlight, the wounds gone. "Why you little trickster," he laughed. "You were holding back enough to heal yourself." She stirred, and the blanket fell off, exposing her pale body. One long fingered hand rested low on Conor's bare back, and everywhere she touched him he seemed to grow warmer. Her other hand cupped his face, gently, and her head rested on his shoulder.  He brushed the long hair back from her eyes, and she gave a sigh of contentment.  He leaned down and kissed her,  gently. One of her eyebrows raised, and she opened her eyes, returning the kiss. As she wrapped her arms around his waist, he pulled the blanket up to cover them.
 "Sleep well, Morrah, morning comes early."

 Morrah woke early the next morning, and wrapping herself went to wash in the waterfall. She tipped her head back, and let the cold water wash everything away. She leaned back, and floated in the pool, the water supporting her, lapping against her sides. All of a sudden, something, someone, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her underwater. Squinting, she wriggled free, and swam for the side of the pond. Surfacing, she gave out a small shriek. Most of the Sanctuary was standing around the pool, watching her. Fergus threw a blanket to someone behind her, and she turned to see Conor, wet, grinning from ear to ear as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders.
 "Get on out," he whispered in her ear.
 She did as he said, and was surprised, and a bit embarrassed when Tully presented her with a sword.
 "We'd be honored if you would stay with us at the Sanctuary. This-" he gestured at the sword, "is so you can defend yourself, and maybe help me with my swordsmanship." Everyone laughed. Morrah hefted the sword in one hand, and took a few practice cuts.
 "I would be happy to stay with you." she replied, and a cheer went up from the crowd.

tHe EnD, fOr NoW...
 

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