Xena tightened the girth on the saddle, giving Argo a possessive pat as she did so. Adjusting the throat latch on the bridle, she casually leaned into the mare’s ear and whispered, "Is she still watching?" Argo gave a non-committal whinny. "Thought so." Xena braced herself, turned and caught her mother wiping the tears from her eyes.

"So you're off," Cyrene announced unnecessarily.

"Yeah. I want to get going before the sun gets too high." She took the parcel of food her mother offered and leisurely stowed it in her saddlebags, taking those moments to consolidate her jumbled emotions and muster her public facade. With her back to Cyrene, she made small talk. "I figure I’ll take the southern route, across the grasslands, give Argo a workout. She’s grown fat on hay and grain. We’ve both gotten too comfortable here."

"That’s not a weakness, Xena."

Xena turned, something approaching a smile on her lips. "No, of course not. Look, tell Cenon and Notus goodbye for me. Oh, and make sure Toris knows about that hole in the fence before you lose any more livestock. I mended it with some wire, but it needs his carpenter’s touch." Cyrene nodded wordlessly, wringing her hands, and tears ran unchecked down the blade of her nose. Xena: Warrior Princess, Destroyer of Nations...melted at the sight. "Please, mother ...don’t cry. I’ll be back...like a bad dinar. I promise."

Cyrene watched her daughter’s face hopefully. "The inn will seem so empty..."

Xena raised an eyebrow. "Empty? With all those patrons coming and going, and Lysandra and Cenon under foot?"

"...empty without you," elaborated Cyrene. As tears spilled onto her cheeks, she stepped into Xena’s waiting arms and they embraced for a long moment. Before they parted, Cyrene whispered, "I’m missing you already."

Xena held her mother at arm’s length and grinned lopsidedly, "Yeah, missing me like the plague, I’ll bet."

"I’m serious, Xena."

Xena dropped her voice. "I know, mother. You’ve been great; the whole village has

been wonderful to me."

Cyrene lifted her daughter’s chin with her finger. "You’ve changed. They see that."

Xena shrugged. "Maybe so," she conceded, but the confusion was plain on her face. "It’s not often a warrior achieves a bloodless victory." She gave her mother’s slim shoulders a final squeeze before swinging into the saddle. "Oh, tell Cenon for me...uh, never mind." Her sharp eyes picked out the boy’s white tunic, bobbing and weaving its way through the morning marketplace crowd. She pointed with her chin and winked at her mother. "Look who’s coming."

Cyrene turned to see Cenon rushing towards them, shouting and waving a parcel over his head. She smiled. "His ears must’ve been burning."

"Xena! I’m glad I caught you!" Cenon said breathlessly. "Varian told me you’d been by to pick up Argo. You’re leaving town?"

"Yeah. Is that for me?"

Cenon looked at the long, tubular parcel clutched indelicately in his right hand. "Huh? Oh, yes." He passed it up to her. "Ten sheets of the highest grade parchment Cadmon had available. I’ve got your change here..." He made a show of patting his clothing, fishing for the few coins she had coming to her. "...somewhere..."

"That’s alright, Cenon," she said, saving him the further embarrassment of having to turn loose probably the first pocket money he’d had in months. "You keep it."

Cyrene grinned. "Tell me the parchment is for your frequent letters home..."

"Actually," Xena said, stowing the parcel in a pouch that hung from the saddlehorn, "it’s for Gabrielle. I owe her. Well..." she threaded the braided reins through the fingers of one hand. "It’s a long ride to Poteidaia..."

"Take care, Little One...send word when you can..." Cyrene squeezed her daughter’s free hand. "You know where to find me."

Xena returned the squeeze. "Always, mother. Cenon," she said, her voice playfully dangerous. "Stay out of trouble."

Cenon popped a mock salute and took Cyrene by the elbow, moving her away from the horse. "Goodbye, Xena."

With a lingering glance at her mother, Xena spurred Argo off at a gallop, content at last that she had put a few old demons to rest.

Cyrene kept her eyes on her daughter’s retreating form until horse and rider topped the hill

and disappeared from sight. "...shame she had to cut her visit short..." Cenon was saying as he happily played two coins off one another. "I sure would’ve liked to have seen her use that chakram of hers. You know," he began enthusiastically, "I bet she could flick the flies off a horse’s ear at 200 paces!"

Cyrene turned and placidly regarded the prattling boy. "Cenon?"

"Yes?"

"If you’re here, who’s minding the inn? If so much as a drop of my mead is missing..."

Despite the late start from Amphipolis, the day was still young. The weather was agreeable and the sky so blue it hurt her eyes to look. Xena hadn’t a care in the world. She’d chosen the more direct but less-traveled southern route to Poteidaia in the hopes that she could make it to the tiny village by late afternoon, in time to dine with Gabrielle and her family. If the opportunity arose, she might even bring down a rabbit or a boar to supplement the dinner menu.

"Hyahhh!" she exclaimed, urging Argo forward at a gallop. She left the gravel road, taking a shortcut through a grassy meadow blanketed in wildflowers. Eventually, the meadow emptied onto a trail, its meandering path punctuated by fallen trees and small gullies born of snowmelt. Feeling strangely energized, Xena led Argo through a series of jumps, all the while maintaining an unbroken line of dialogue as she coaxed the horse over one obstacle after another.

At midday, they stopped near a stream where Xena dozed in the shade of the trees while Argo fed on the sweet grasses growing at the water’s edge. But within the hour, horse and rider were again moving south at a rhythmic canter; Xena knew it was a pace that Argo could sustain indefinitely. As the sun was making its slow descent into the hills, Xena found herself on the outskirts of Poteidaia. From her vantage place atop a hill, she could see small, squat buildings arranged in a rough circle, and a short distance away, the ocean glinting in the waning sunlight. Xena reflected with some fascination that for a fishing village with a good-sized port, Poteidaia had somehow managed to avoid many of the pitfalls that came with being so advantageously situated; it was still small, yet productive, and relatively innocent. She had to smile when she realized that Gabrielle was so much the mirror of her environment. She dismounted, her legs rubbery beneath her as she touched the earth. "We walk from here, girl," she said, rubbing her hamstring. With Argo in tow, Xena started down the hill in the direction of the village. She could see, even at this distance, women mending nets outside the houses, children playing at their feet, the market bustling with last-minute activity before closing down for the day. Like her own home, it was harvest time, and the fields surrounding Poteidaia were being divested of their precious yield. Rows of wheat fell to the onslaught of scythes wielded by hearty village women whose men were no doubt hauling in fishing nets bursting with the day’s catch. It was a lifestyle Xena appreciated, but did not envy. For her, nothing yet matched the thrill of the road. A woman’s raised voice reached her ears on the wind and her eyes homed in on the source; a dark haired girl, hands firmly planted on her hips, was engaged in a somewhat forceful debate with a man twice her size. Debate might not be the right word, Xena thought, as the man had yet to utter one syllable in retort. The girl even talks between words. "That’ll be Lila," she said aloud as her long stride cut the distance between them.

As the man threw up his hands and stalked away in the direction of the village, Lila called after him, "...and don’t expect to be paid one red dinar until I have those baskets in my hand!"

"Lila?"

Lila wheeled, anger still emanating from her otherwise pleasant features. "Xena!?"

The hand clutching Argo’s reins began to sweat. "You’ve grown."

"Yeah, well, it has been two years." Lila brought her emotions under control with a speed that astounded her.

"I saw the way you handled that farmer; I’ve had lieutenants under me not half that tough," Xena quipped, instantly regretting the reference. By the gods! how she hated small talk; she never knew how small it could be.

Lila stood facing her, hands on her hips, feet apart, a fine sheen of perspiration present on her upper lip and when she spoke, all traces of anger vanished. "So why are you here?"

"Would you believe me if I said I had an overpowering need to see Poteidaia again?"

Lila was tight-lipped and shrugged, "No. There’s not that much to see."

Xena cleared her throat and stabbed at the ground once with the toe of her boot before meeting Lila’s dark eyes again; it would’ve given her a modicum of comfort to look into those eyes and see something familiar, something of Gabrielle. Xena thought, ‘How could they share parents and blood and be so utterly different?’ "Lila, I know you don't particularly care for me..."

"Xena, don't," said Lila. "It’s I who owes you the apology." Xena stared stunned at Lila. "When Gabrielle left with you, I was hurt and angry. I mean, I told her I understood, but I really didn’t see how she could choose a stranger over her own family. Part of me thought for sure she would return in a few weeks...and when she didn’t, I imagined all kinds of horrible things had happened to her."

Xena shifted her weight and pursed her lips. "Lila, you don’t have to do this."

"But I should’ve known better," the girl persisted. "Not only did you protect her, but you taught her, too..."

Xena shook her head. "She learned. There’s a difference. If anything, I’ve been her pupil."

"When she came home last year and staged a defense against Damon’s troops, I knew at last that she was meant for bigger and better things than being a village wife and mother..."

"Hey, there’s nothing wrong with being a village wife and mother," interjected Xena, and when Lila rolled her eyes and presented a sweet, goofy smile, Xena thought, ‘At last -- something of Gabrielle!’

Lila threw up her hands. "Would you stop interrupting? I’m trying to say I’m sorry."

Xena searched the girl’s face, prospecting for sincerity; to her relief and surprise she found it in abundance. "Okay," she said at last.

"You’re always welcome here, Xena."

Xena took a deep breath. "Thank you, Lila. I appreciate that more than you know."

"Now, that aside," said Lila, smiling warmly, "Tell me you dropped my big sister on her arse on the side of the road. I wouldn’t blame you at all."

Xena blinked. "What do you mean? Isn’t she here?"

Lila quickly grew alarmed. "No. We haven’t seen her since last Solstice."

"She left me a week and a half ago at the crossroads to come home for a visit," Xena said, all the warmth and joy of the past ten days slipping away on the cold trickle of perspiration running down her spine. "I expected to find her here..."

"Xena..." Lila’s voice trembled, and fear shadowed her face as she watched the warrior’s confidence being replaced by dread. Her hands trembled at her lips like nervous birds. "Xena, what’ll I tell my parents?"

Xena swung into the saddle with ease. "Tell them I’ll find her, Lila. I’ll bring her home.

I promise!" she called over her shoulder as she galloped away.

‘Stupid!’ her mind screamed, admonishing herself for her complacence. ‘You've been enjoying yourself while your best friend has been missing, hurt, possibly even -- No! I'd know if Gabrielle was dead. I’d feel it. Focus, Xena.’ When she reached the main road to Poteidaia, she at last slowed Argo to a walk and dismounted. Her head down, her steps mechanical and unwavering, she searched the road and adjacent greenery for signs, but found none. As dark was stealing over the land, she reluctantly stopped her search and made camp for the night. She passed hour upon hour plotting search patterns and cursing her complacency for letting her friend travel this road alone. But she did not sleep. When dawn was just an intimation in the sky, she kicked dirt over her dwindling fire and saddled Argo. By mid afternoon, she had reached Thebes

where she proceeded to search the town, starting at The Fates Inn. Old business associates hailed her to join them for drinks, old enemies settled sweaty hands upon the hilts of their swords, and the innkeeper murmured something about not wanting any trouble. Xena ignored them all, quickly scanned the room by eye, and made a few inquiries -- talkative redhead, about so-high -- all to no avail. On the surface, she knew she wouldn’t find Gabrielle in Thebes, but she had convinced herself that a methodical search was the best way to locate her friend. Three hours later, she rode from Thebes, a solitary and dejected figure astride a galloping horse. At sunset, she arrived at the crossroads where she and Gabrielle had parted company almost two weeks before. She dismounted and studied the terrain for clues -- trampled brush, broken branches, footprints -- she found these in abundance, but there had just been too much traffic along the road since separating from her friend. Anything, or nothing, might have transpired on this spot. Xena looked up at the approaching night, cursing the need to stop. She led Argo off the road to a clearing and quickly got a fire going before returning to bed the horse down for the night. "Where is she, girl?" she said aloud as she brushed the animal’s coat. "It’s been nearly two weeks." In her mind’s eye, she replayed their parting at the crossroads, Gabrielle chiding, ‘Come with me to Poteidaia...’ And her own monosyllabic reply -- ‘No.’ Xena leaned her forehead against Argo’s neck and closed her eyes in frustration, running her hand along the horse’s silky muzzle. "I’m an insensitive idiot, Argo." The mare shifted and nickered softly and Xena had to laugh. "You’re supposed to disagree."

Returning to the fire, Xena lay a few twigs across it and sat down, chaffing her hands together and trying to ignore her growling stomach. There was food in her saddlebags -- bread, hard cheese and some fruit -- her mother had packed enough for two. ‘Why should I eat when Gabrielle may be starving?’ Consigning her gaze to the flames, her mind conceived scenario after scenario to explain Gabrielle’s disappearance, none of them particularly appealing and each of which left her feeling more guilty than the last. Eventually, she drifted into a light sleep where...

"Lysandra! Come back!" Xena came awake, shivering hard, the remnants of the dream still fresh in her mind. She looked about apprehensively. Save for Argo grazing nearby, she was alone amid the ambient sounds of the night. She pulled herself into a sitting position and took a deep breath. Her fire was a feeble glow in the darkness and she wondered how long she had been asleep; she begrudged every minute. She fed the fire with twigs until it glowed so hot and bright she had to turn her face from it. A groping inventory of her saddlebags yielded the wineskin.

"No," she said aloud, denying her first impulse to drown the dream images in sweet red wine. Better to have a clear head to make any sense of them, if any sense could be made of them... wasn’t a dream just a dream? If so, why should Lysandra play such an integral part in hers? She was deep in the midst of this self-exploration when she heard the snap of a twig at the edge of the camp. In one swift, graceful movement, she was on the balls of her feet, sword in hand. "Show yourself!" Night swallowed her words whole. Opening her eyes wide to let in all the light she could, she peered into the surrounding woods. "I won’t ask a second time..." Out of the darkness, a form stumbled slowly into the firelight.

"Gabrielle?" Xena gaped at her friend. "Oh, gods! It is you!" Instantly she swept her friend up in a big hug. "Where have you been?" Xena pulled back, finally getting a good look at Gabrielle; her clothes were dirty and blood stained, her body slouched in exhaustion and at her left temple was a nasty gash, just healing over -- the large bruise on her cheekbone appeared to be more recent. "Here, come and sit down." She guided the obviously-dazed girl to a place by the fire, relieving her of the quarterstaff and satchel. "Stupid question number one: how do you feel?" Gabrielle stared vacantly into the fire, her face taut with a look of extreme exhaustion. "Gabrielle...hey, Gabrielle, look at me..." Xena had to forcibly turn the girl’s face from the fire.

When their eyes met, Gabrielle’s opened wide in unmistakable fear as she leapt from her seat, throwing up her hands in a defensive posture. "Don’t hit me!" she cried, cringing.

"What?! Easy, Gabrielle..." crooned Xena. "Take it easy. No one’s gonna hurt you..."

Momentarily, the fear and indecision on Gabrielle’s face resolved itself into a semblance of recognition until at last she regarded Xena with a mixture of surprise and relief. "Xena!?" she exclaimed, and threw herself into her friend’s arms. She stayed there for several moments, shuddering and sobbing until Xena’s strong hands held her at arm’s length. "Xena," she stammered. "...I got lost...I didn’t think I’d ever find you again."

Xena grinned, trying to hide her concern. "Well, you found me before I could find you," she said, wiping the girl’s tears away with the ball of her thumb. "That’s pretty impressive, don’t you think?"

Gabrielle nodded slowly and let herself be guided back to her seat. "Dumb luck...I saw your fire...and I was so cold..."

Xena placed a blanket around the girl’s trembling shoulders. "Well, you’re safe now.

Just rest a moment, catch your breath." Xena set a pot of water to warm near the fire and then went about fishing medical supplies from her bag. "We’ll get you fixed right up." Her fingers prodded the bard’s cheekbone with professional interest. "Oh, that’s gonna be a beauty."

Xena’s words struck Gabrielle as vaguely familiar. "What did you say?"

"I said that’s quite a shiner." Xena began working. "You want to tell me what happened?" She could feel the muscles below her fingers tense.

Gabrielle took a deep breath and focused on Xena’s face in front of her. "I'm...I'm not sure, really..."

Xena looked at her friend; in the firelight her eyes were luminous, her face pale. "Take

your time," she said, making soft noises of encouragement. "You’re safe with me." She opened a small jar of grayish salve and spread some liberally on a clean square of cloth. "Now...you left me at the crossroads..." she trailed off, her brow knitted in concentration as she worked.

Gabrielle’s eyes flickered over her friend’s face and after a moment, she found her voice.

"The crossroads, yes. I was going to take a shortcut, try and cut my traveling time. I didn’t want to be on the road after dark...ouch!" Her breath hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sorry..." Xena muttered, but her fears were put to rest by her friend’s watery smile...it was pale, the ghost of the real thing, but it was a smile. "Go on with your story."

"I remember walking along and coming upon this injured traveler...he was about my age..." Gabrielle’s brow knitted and her gaze turned inward as she struggled for details. "...all of the sudden these...warriors came pouring out of the forest..." her voice trailed off and Xena could see that she was clearly agitated.

"It’s all right. That’s enough for now." Xena tied a bandage around the girl’s head and made the whole thing fast with a tidy square knot. "There. Not too shabby. How does it feel?"

Gabrielle tentatively touched the bandage with her fingers. "Aches a bit."

"I’ve got something brewing for that." Xena sat on her haunches and carefully framed her next question; she began with a delicate preamble. "Gabrielle, do you remember...did these men ...hurt you?"

Gabrielle swallowed deeply. "Hurt me?"

Sweet Athena, Xena thought. She’s gonna make me say it. "Did they rape you?"

Gabrielle’s hesitancy was cruelly slow, and Xena couldn’t help but think, however briefly, that it was intentional on the girl’s part. At last, Gabrielle shook her head and uttered a simple,

"No."

Xena sighed palpably. Her mind working frantically to make some sense of her friend’s rather disjointed story, she cast about for still vital, but less uncomfortable information. "This happened the first day?" She placed some leaves in a cup and covered them with hot water. "Willow bark tea...for your head," she said, placing the cup into Gabrielle’s hands. "So where have you been since then?"

"I...I’m not sure..." Gabrielle gripped the cup so tightly that some of its contents sloshed onto the ground. She took no notice as she drank deeply of the tea; she made a face as it went down. "The first thing I remember is stumbling through the woods...and seeing your fire..." She caught Xena watching her closely. "This really is awful stuff," she confessed, finding a smile amidst her confusion.

Xena returned the smile, somewhat relieved. "Hungry?" She pulled some bread and fruit from her pack and Gabrielle descended upon the food ravenously. "That’ll be a ‘yes’," she said with a chuckle. "You must’ve been wandering for some time by the looks of it..."

Gabrielle grunted noncommittally, but when Xena’s expectant gaze didn’t waver, she paused, her teeth sunk half-way into an apple. She swallowed and, dreading the answer, ventured, "How long?"

Xena weighed the possible impact of the truth on her friend before replying, "You’ve

been missing 10 days."

Gabrielle’s hands fell slowly into her lap. "Ten days..." she muttered in a disbelieving

whisper, turning the half-eaten apple over and over in her hands. "Xena...why don’t I remember?"

Xena sensed the last of Gabrielle’s control was fading from her; she reached out to still the girl’s fidgeting hands. "It’s not unusual...you took quite a blow."

If she had been there... Gabrielle’s suddenly reproachful eyes locked onto Xena’s and she parroted coldly, "If you had been there, it would never have happened."

Xena’s gaze wavered, stung by her friend's accusation. "I’m sorry, Gabrielle."

Gabrielle blinked, shook her head to clear it and made an immediate effort to apologize.

"No, Xena," she said, touching her friend’s hand. "I'm the one who should be sorry. That was a horrible thing for me to say. I'm guess I’m just not quite myself." Sleep. "I think I just need to close my eyes for a while."

"Yeah, sure, sleep’s the thing," said Xena with a buoyancy she didn’t feel in the least. "We'll talk more in the morning." Without further word, Gabrielle lay down beside the fire, drawing the blanket over her legs. The voices of the day still whispering in her head, she drifted off into sleep. Xena moved to a position opposite, spread her own blanket and sat crossed-legged upon it, her sword across her knees. As she sat watching her sleeping companion through slitted eyes, in the midst of the profound relief she was experiencing was the uncomfortable feeling that Gabrielle was not telling her everything she knew.

"Lord?" Hesperos shuffled uncomfortably before repeating himself. "Lord Manus?"

"I heard you the first time, Hesperos," replied Manus, irritation creeping into his voice. "You have news?"

"Yes, Lord. All the arrangements have been made, as you prescribed. Lysandra performed just as you suspected she might."

"Of course, she did. She’s Elkton’s prize pupil...what better messenger...what better message to bring the Warrior Princess back into the fold...the fade out was an especially nice touch..."

"I thought the girl, Gabrielle, was your chosen tool."

"Gabrielle...Gabrielle is a work in progress. I am hoping to employ her to administer the

final blow, the coup d’grace..." The benevolent smile morphed into a thoughtful grimace. "Her will is strong...even after all the pre-conditioning, she resists me. That’s why these moments in the dreamscape are so vital, Hesperos, and why they should be uninterrupted."

"Point taken, Lord."

"Now, leave me. I have seeds to plant."

Dawn was just a pale smudge on the horizon when Xena wakened and rolled over to find Gabrielle watching her intently. "Good morning." The bard merely nodded grimly. Xena propped herself up on one elbow, yawned and gave the girl a critical appraisal. "Did you sleep?" she asked as she stood and stretched her long limbs.

"Like a babe," replied Gabrielle. "I made breakfast." She tossed Xena half an apple. "Sorry. I didn’t feel much like cooking."

"No, no. This is fine," replied Xena, tucking the apple between her teeth. "How’s the head?" she asked, rolling up her blanket.

"It’s all right, better."

"Good, because if you’re up to it, we really need to get on the road," said Xena stalking across the grass to where Argo stood tethered to a green tree limb. Gabrielle, intrigued, followed her.

"We’re leaving?"

"Uh huh, " replied Xena, saddling up and feeding the last of the apple to Argo.

Gabrielle folded her arms and said, "Can you be more specific?"

Xena exhaled, signaling the beginnings of impatience. "There’s a village, about a half day’s ride east of here."

"So?"

Xena grunted as she tightened the cinch. "You need to rest. I need to see Elkton."

"Elkton? The old mystic?"

"You wanna get your things together..." suggested Xena as she strode back into the camp and kicked dirt over the fire. She looked back to see Gabrielle still standing at the tree. "What is it?"

You owe her no explanations. "Nothing," replied the bard curtly. "You don’t have to know my every thought, Xena."

Xena briefly checked a molar with her tongue. "Okay." She snatched up the pouch and staff, breaking the latter down as she moved towards her horse. She passed them both to Gabrielle and as the bard stowed the staff in her pouch, Xena swung into the saddle. "Come on," she said, offering her hand. "You're in no condition to be walking."

Gabrielle slung her pack over her shoulder. "If it's all the same to you..."

Xena cut her off quickly. "Well, it isn’t," she replied and with one strong arm hauled the bard up into the saddle behind her. "We’ll make better time this way."

"Xena," began Gabrielle tentatively. "Are you mad at me?"

Xena paused a moment before turning around in the saddle; suppressing her instincts, she chose clarification and tact over brute truth. "I’m worried about you, Gabrielle, that’s all. If I poke and pry it’s because I care."

Gabrielle smiled and shifted in the saddle. "I know that," she said, wrapping one arm around Xena's waist. "Why can't they make these things closer to the ground?"

"Hey, leave me some room to breathe!" chuckled Xena, forcing her thumb between Gabrielle’s arm and her own leathers.

"Oh, sorry."

A smiled played at the corners of Xena’s lips as the bard’s mood changed yet again. She put it down to the trauma of the attack and vowed not to broach the subject again unless Gabrielle initiated the conversation. She applied pressure to Argo’s withers with her knees and moved the horse out onto the main road. "Why don't you try to doze back there?"

"I don’t see dozing on the back of your horse in my future," muttered Gabrielle into Xena’s back, loosening her deathgrip on Xena’s waist. "How long did you say to this village?"

"We should be there by midday. Sit back and enjoy the ride." Xena clucked her tongue and Argo moved effortlessly from walk to canter, a pace she sustained for nearly three hours before pulling up lame favoring her left foreleg. "Whoa, girl," crooned Xena, pulling Argo to a complete stop.

Gabrielle slid unassisted from the animal’s back. "What’s wrong with Argo?

Xena dismounted. "Probably just picked up a stone." She ran a practiced hand down the animal’s foreleg, picked up the hoof and confirmed her suspicions. "Gabrielle, get the hoof pick out of my saddlebags."

Gabrielle complied and stood back, watching Xena tend the injured horse. "Will this hold us up long?"

Without looking up from her work, Xena replied, "No, just a few minutes."

You’re parched and dry...Gabrielle removed the empty waterskin and her satchel from the saddle horn. "I saw a river just over that rise. I’m gonna go refill the skin."

Xena grunted noncommittally as she worked to pry loose the stubborn flat stone wedged beneath Argo’s shoe. She emitted a low whistle and rolled the stone between her fingers. "Will you look at the size of that." She looked up to see Gabrielle’s retreating figure vanish behind a stand of trees. "Wonder where she’s off to..." She tossed the stone away and patted the horse’s shoulder. "Easy, girl." She went to her saddlebags and rummaged around for her light hammer, and some loose nails, the latter of which she found the hard way. "Ouch!" She withdrew her hand quickly and gazed at the shining crimson pearl on her fingertip. "Nice move, Warrior Princess...catch an arrow in midflight, but let a nail draw your blood..." she muttered self-consciously. Argo nickered softly. "Okay, okay, you’re next." Xena wasted no time tacking down the loose shoe. She was stowing the hammer when she heard what sounded like combat emanating from the rise over which Gabrielle had disappeared not two minutes earlier. Xena’s long legs closed the distance. Topping the hill, she was stunned to see Gabrielle, staff in hand, engaged in heated battle with a burly peasant, while another man sat slumped on the banks of a meandering river, cradling one arm to his chest in obvious pain. A gifted battlefield tactician, Xena assessed the situation in an instant -- two attackers, one injured, the other struggling to keep his feet beneath him while Gabrielle acquitted herself with a speed and ferocity that Xena had never before seen in the young bard. Seeing Gabrielle was in no immediate danger, Xena slowed to a fast walk. She watched with appreciation and surprise as two sound blows, one to the head, the second to the knee, dropped the big man to the ground in a graceless heap. He lay clutching his knee, writhing in pain and begging for mercy. From where she stood, Xena could see Gabrielle’s eyes blazing with a hatred that she had previously reserved only for Callisto.

Kill him! Bury your staff in his throat and kill him! "No!" Reason and chaos warred on the foggy battlefield of Gabrielle’s mind, and in it, Manus walked among the dead. Kill him! Send him to Tartarus and have peace at last... Gabrielle’s staff parted the air, rushing for the man’s unprotected windpipe when a hand shot out, stilling its whistling descent just a hairsbreadth from contact.

"Enough!" Xena grappled with the girl for the staff. "Gabrielle, that’s enough!" Xena’s eyes fixed on the bard’s and held her whole.

Bitch! Of all the ill-timed intrusions... "Xena," said Gabrielle, as if she had only just seen her. "Great timing...as always." She sighed in relief and turned loose her weapon.

"Pyramus?! called the injured man on the creek bank. "Pyramus, are you all right?" He drew his wobbly legs beneath him, attempting to stand.

"You!" Xena pointed the staff at him, an extension of her hand. "So much as twitch a muscle, and you die."

Pyramus, grimacing in agony, shouted, "I’m allright, father! Stay where you are!" His wary eyes shifted from the leather-clad warrior towering above him to the slight, fair-haired child who had so soundly thrashed him; he didn’t know whom to fear most. "Please, don’t kill us," he stammered.

Xena crooked a well-defined eyebrow. "Don’t gimme cause. Okay, what happened?"

"She attacked us without reason!" replied the old man in the water.

Gabrielle shot back, "That’s a lie!"

"No!" countered Pyramus. "We just came down to the river to check our traps and --"

Xena put her foot on Pyramus’ chest, effectively silencing him. "Ah, ah!" she said, wagging a finger at him for emphasis. "Ladies first." To Gabrielle: "Talk to me, Gabrielle...what happened here?"

"I came down to fill the waterskin and...and the next thing I knew, this one was holding a knife to my throat..."

Pyramus made an attempt to counter; Xena applied pressure with the heel of her boot and quipped, "Don’t interrupt. Your turn will come soon enough."

"We’re not even carrying knives!" called the old man.

Xena observed the old man’s statement to be true enough; there were nets on the bank, ropes, and a string of lines trickling off downriver...but no weapons. An old man and his son...peasants making a meager living on the river, no threat to anyone but the fish. Xena didn’t care for the implications at all. "Gabrielle..."

"Xena, he had a knife," retorted Gabrielle. "Look, he cut me --" she gaped in unabashed surprise at her uninjured hand where only a minute before, the peasant’s knife had drawn a burning line across her palm. "I...I don’t understand..." She looked up at Xena in utter confusion, her jaw working convulsively, word seeking. "Xena, I was...I was so sure..."

"Please," the old man pleaded. "Can’t I tend my son?"

"What? Oh. Yeah," replied Xena, stepping away from Pyramus and over to Gabrielle who by this time, had sunk to the grass in abject horror of her actions. "Gabrielle," she said, placing a hand on the girl’s shoulder and dropping her voice. "Whatever happened here, I’m sure you felt you had cause to defend yourself..."

Gabrielle looked up, squinting against the midday sun, her face miserable. "Xena, I swear by the gods, I..."

Xena dropped her voice another octave and her hand instinctively sought the cool comfort of her chakram as she asked, "Do you recognize them? Is that it?" Her keen eyes moved carefully over the two men. "Are they part of the group that attacked you?" She waited beats, poised to react.

"I...no...no, they’re not..." Gabrielle was crying openly now. "I’ve never seen them before today."

"Please...are we free to go?"

Xena turned. The old man, himself injured, was supporting his crippled son on one of his own shoulders. "I’ve got some medical supplies in my saddlebags. I’m no healer, but --"

Pyramus shook his head vehemently. "No, we just want to go. I suggest you put some space between yourself and that young woman, if you know what’s good for you!"

"Pyramus, shut up." The old man rummaged through his emotions, found a pitiful smile and addressed Xena. "Thanks for your offer, but our wagon is just over the hill."

Xena watched father and son hobble away; periodically one would turn to see if they were being followed. When they were gone, Xena turned and found Gabrielle kneeling at the riverbank, elbow deep in the frigid water, losing what little she had eaten for breakfast that morning. Xena could do nothing but sit at her side, rubbing her back in a circular motion until at last the painful heaves subsided, leaving the bard weak and miserable, her face bathed in perspiration.

Gabrielle cupped a handful of water in her palm and brought it to her mouth; she held it there, savoring the icy chill before swallowing. "Sweet Athena..." she sobbed, eyes closed. "Xena, what did I do?" Without care, she ripped the bandage from her head and slung it aside in frustration. "If you hadn’t stopped me, I would’ve killed him. I wanted to kill him."

Xena pulled the girl up beside her on the riverbank, but unable to say anything of comfort or explanation, she said nothing at all.

"I was just so angry...is this what it feels like to be you?"

Xena paused, her mouth open, a half-formed thought on her lips. "Trust me. We don’t want to go there," she said simply, and got to her feet. "We should get moving." She offered her hand. "Come on."

"Oh, gods," moaned Gabrielle, as she took the warrior’s beckoning hand. "My head is pounding..."

Xena pulled her gently to her feet. "We’ll be at the temple in a couple of hours. You can rest there."

The young bard nodded and with her eyes squeezed shut against the pain, allowed herself to be escorted up the hillside. "I never did refill the skin..." she muttered.

"Don’t worry about it." The bard swayed alarmingly and Xena felt compelled to sling an arm around her waist for support. Gabrielle’s sudden incapacitation, coupled with her strange behavior had Xena more worried than ever. Moments later, she clambered into the saddle and settled Gabrielle behind her. "You okay back there?"