Outside the gate to the sisterhood, the little party prepares for its descent. Sir Nills bows before the Countess. "My lady, I shall hurry ahead to see that your path is clear." Not in the habit of getting much of a reply, he immediately begins to move away. He's brought up short by her response.
"No."
He turns back. "My lady?"
"You will stay with us, Sir Nills. Take the rear guard."
For a moment, he seems taken aback, but he soon collects himself. "Of course, my lady."
Clegg and Murton stare at each other. To Med's questioning look, Murton whispers, "He’s been hanging around pretendin' to serve her for three years now, and she won't have him. Won't give him no orders, won't send him away. Won't call him by name. Followed us all the way from Ailmoran, he did. This here's the first time she ever--"
He's interrupted by an evil look from Harwold. In silence, the party trudges off down the steep trail.
As you walk, it occurs to Med that Harwold wasn't at the Oracle's ceremony. He slept in the courtyard with the other men, but then Med has no memory of seeing him when it came time to go up to the platform.
The morning is cold, but the hike soon warms everyone. Going down is easier than coming up, but still tiring. It's near midday when the group crosses the little stone bridge and draws close to the point where they expect to meet Aaron coming back with the horses.
Something moves on the uphill side of the path. Everyone looks up and then freezes. Not twenty feet away is an enormous mountain lion, rising to its feet. Neither Med nor Pral know much about such creatures but both of them are certain that it is freakishly large. As it comes fully to its feet they realize it is as tall as a horse.
The cat's gaze sweeps leisurely back and forth across the group, which is paralyzed with awe. In two great strides it reaches the path and looks directly at Med for a moment.
The spell is broken by the sound of Sir Nills drawing his sword and rushing forward. The cat twitches its tail, and then leaps clear over Med, striking Harwold in the chest with both front paws and knocking him to the ground. It bites at the Countess, snatching the silk scarf right off her head and then bounds away downhill.
Sir Nills, with Pral right behind him, attempts to give chase, but the creature moves like lightning on the steep terrain. It is immediately clear that there is no hope of catching it.
Not too far up the trail you can hear horses whinnying in fright.
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