wound her way into the woods, and already felt more relaxed. It was darker here, stil night, and more peaceful.
Al around her were towering trees, blocking out most of the sky, and she could hear the songs of a few early morning birds, just waking. It was tranquil.
Caitlin thought of where she might go next. She found herself thinking of the unopened scrol , of her father’s letter.
Maybe now was the time to open it. Maybe something in there would lead her, show her the way. Maybe she was being punished for not fol owing her mission to begin with.
Maybe she had needed al this drama to force her back on track.
Suddenly, there was the sound of a twig snapping. Caitlin spun.
She was shocked to discover that there, fol owing her, was a large man, about twice her size. He was overgrown, with missing teeth, and a half open mouth. He looked like a real brute, very mean.
She could see trouble in his large, black eyes.
Caitlin heard another snap, and turned the other way to see two more ruffians approaching her.
They were nearly as big as the first man, and, covered in scars, had even meaner expressions, if possible.
Her heart started to pound as she realized she was being ambushed. Probably local thieves, or rapists, waiting to pray on passersby. She had been so stupid. She should have been more vigilant.
Just because she was in middle of nowhere, didn’t necessarily mean it was safe.
Normal y, Caitlin would have been fearless, but she hadn’t had a real chance to test her ful powers since she’d arrived back in time. Did she stil have them? She knew she could fly. But did she stil have the strength? The rage? The reflexes? The speed and agility and fighting skil s?
Now was hardly the time to be experimenting, she realized, with a pit her stomach.
“Take off your clothes,” one of them barked.
It was the big one, and as she looked, she saw him pul something smal and shiny from his waist. It was a dagger.
Clearly, these men didn’t just want to rob her.
Ruth snarled beside her.
“I’m only going to warn you once,” Caitlin said, in as loud and firm a voice as she could muster.
But deep inside, she was trembling. “Don’t come near me.”
A short, harsh laugh came out from the two other men, as they each pul ed out daggers of their own.
“This one has a mouth on her, doesn’t she?” one of them asked.
At that moment, the first one, several feet closer, reached for her. Caitlin waited, not wanting to show her hand.
Ruth suddenly lunged at the man, and bit as hard as she could on his ankle. Ruth was smal , but her teeth were sharp, and as she clamped down hard, the man screamed in agony. He shook his leg furiously, swinging Ruth in the air, but she would not let go. Final y, he swung hard, and Ruth went flying.
Caitlin saw her chance. She lunged forward, sending the heel of her hand up high and hard, right into the base of the man’s throat.
It was a perfect strike. She hit him in the vocal cords, and he immediately raise both hands to his throat, and dropped to his knees.
Caitlin grabbed him by the back of the head, and brought his face into her knee, breaking his nose. He fel into the ground.
Caitlin suddenly felt her arm burn with pain, as she heard the slicing of a knife.
She grabbed her arm in pain and felt the hot blood pour out of her—and realized she had been sliced by a dagger.
Stupid of her. She had left herself open to attack from the other men, who were faster than she’d thought.
Before she could react, she was grabbed from behind by the other man. She struggled, but the man was strong, and no matter what she did, she was unable to break free.
The other man came around and faced her, wiping his lips with the back of his hand, as if looking at his next meal. He quickly pul ed down his pants.
“Undress her,” he commanded the other.
The other began to reach around and grab Caitlin’s shirt.
That was when it happened. Caitlin closed her eyes and suddenly thought of al the times in her life she’d been attacked, abused, bul ied. She thought of New York, back in the al ey. She thought of Cain, on Pol epel. She remembered Venice. She even thought of her mother, who never had a kind word