â€œYou donâ€™t think they can speak?â€ The boy turned a solemn eye on Kala and shook his head. â€œYou donâ€™t think they can perform rituals? Maybe you should ask them,â€ he told her, stroking the pup as she nosed among the plates and bones. â€œAlive! What is alive, anyway?â€ He laughed, touching one of the skulls. It turned its empty eye sockets on him. â€œItâ€™s rude of you to assume things.â€<br/><br/>He was less serious as he turned from the table and climbed once more onto his dog. â€œGirvan and I are going to join the hunt. You may eat. Donâ€™t be shy! Theyâ€™d enjoy your company. I know it. Theyâ€™ve had so little company. Maybe if you apologize, theyâ€™ll even do some magic for you.â€<br/><br/>Once again, he lifted a hand to her and the dog turned to bound away. â€œGoodbye, friend of my friend. Good luck!â€ With that, he was gone again and the voice of the hound joined retreated to join the others far away.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center;">--------</div><br/><br/>Their attacker was harder to drive off than Kalab had thought. He was tired, bloody, and the path was closing. When the trod began to close, it became unstable. It might drop him anywhere, along any sidhe path. When he made it through, he could feel the very ground trying to escape from under his feet. A disconcerting feeling to be sure.<br/><br/>He pushed through, despite the fleeing, sucking feeling, grabbing for threads of Nehmahatiâ€™s familiarity. In single minded determination he followed the now snaking trod, not letting it confuse him overly much with its twisting. It was possible he was even on the other side of the unseelie court. Although other side was a nearly useless way of thinking about it; he wasnâ€™t even sure if the place had real borders or directions. He never had been certain of that.