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The woman watched as if he were a wolf ready to pounce. “You are a healer,” he said unable to completely keep the chill from his voice. Still she stayed mute.

“Your name is Merewin.” The name felt good in his mouth. Much better than the word “healer.” “Merewin,” he said again. 

Still silence. His frustration grew as they stared at one another waiting, waiting for one of them to move. Did she think she could escape him? She was his. The possessive thought coursed through him. The fire flared, illuminating her head. He reached to touch the slip of hair that fell along her cheek. She jerked her head back before he could catch it, leaving his hand in the air. “What color is your hair?”

His question startled her, but she continued to stare with no movement to her luscious lips.

Behind her Gamal groaned and pushed himself into a sitting position. “What happened?”

Hauk’s gaze moved to Gamal. How could he be sitting up and talking? He’d been near death.

Fire ruptured through the slash in Hauk’s arm. He stared down incredulously at a small dagger sticking out of the wound. The woman leapt up, dropped the cloak, and ran to the back. 

Hauk’s roar filled the empty tent, and the fire in the pit flared up to the ceiling. He pulled the dagger out of the fresh wound.

“Who was she?” Gamal asked standing. The two guards rushed in and stood stunned, looking around at the once overflowing tent. 

Hauk whipped the binding back from his freshly bleeding arm. “She’s the healer,” he said tying it off with his teeth. “And she’s getting away.” Hauk tucked the dagger in his belt and leapt.