She is not by the fire. She is not by the pool.
"Betty?"
My voice is a croak, thick with sleep and a new, rising panic.
I sit up, my entire body screaming in protest, the Worg-bite in my thigh a white-hot, tearing fire. The furs fall away, and I see my hand.
It is not empty.
It is clenched. I open my stiff, clawed fingers.
A small, wooden thing rests in my palm. A five-pointed star. Her Christmas-thing. Her hope-thing.
She left it.
Liar.
The thought is a hot, sharp blade of betrayal. She promised. She waited until I was weak, until my body betrayed me with sleep.
It is a trade. Her gift.
A goodbye.
NO.
I explode from the nest of furs. The pain blooming in my leg is a blinding, white agony. My wound rips open again, hot blood streaming down my thigh.
I do not care.
A roar tears from my throat. It is not the Orc rage. It is not the Orc's battle-cry. It is a new sound. It is the sound of my soul ripping apart.
I crash through the cavern, limping, falling to my hands and claws, scrambling back to my feet. I follow her fading scent toward the humming, toward the murals, toward the magic that wants to eat her.
I burst into the main chamber.
I see her.
She is standing in the center of the cavern, directly under the lying pictures on the wall.
And the magic is taking her.
A cold, white light, nothing like the warm, green moss, swirls around her feet. It climbs her legs like glowing, hungry snakes, hissing as it rises. The hum of the Wildspont is louder now, an eager, hungry song.
Her face is lifted to the swirling light. Her eyes are closed.
She is smiling.
That terrible, broken, happy smile. The same smile she gave me just before she lied.
"Take me!" she shouts, her voice clear and strong, echoing in the cavern. "A life, willingly given! Restore what was lost! Take me!"
"NO!" I roar, stumbling toward her. My leg collapses under me, and I fall hard to the mossy stone. "Betty! STOP!"
She opens her eyes. They find me. They are not afraid. They are full of peace. And love. A terrible, final love.
"It's okay, Threk," she sobs, the tears streaming down her face even as she smiles. "It is my gift to you. My Christmas gift."
"NO GIFT!" I scream, dragging myself forward with my claws. The pain in my leg is blinding, but the pain in my chest is worse. "I do not WANT this! I do not WANT the cure! I WANT YOU!"
