A/N: At long last, here it is--the next chapter! ::cue dramatic music:: I could give you all a bunch of excuses, but… I don't want to do that to you. So I'll settle for saying I'm sorry this has taken so long to get finished. I hate making you all wait so long. I'll try not to be such a slow writer in the future. x.O Also, this is un-betaed and I haven't gone over it very well. So if there's any glaring errors, I'll apologize ahead of time.

Oh, and one more note: This is like the fifth version of this chapter. It's taken on a life of it's own, so even I don't know where it's going. It's not quite like I had planned, but what I had planned obviously wasn't working since I've been stuck for forever...

But I'll stop talking now so you can actually go read.

As it turned out, Gran was not the kind of woman you found. She was the kind of woman who found you.

Sam and the colonel had rode through the night, through the endless drizzle and cold, until the first light of dawn appeared on the horizon ahead of them. The horses were tired, and the colonel had fallen asleep in the saddle. Adrenaline was the only thing keeping Sam awake, and that was wearing thin. Not only was she nodding off, but several times she had glimpsed motion in her peripheral, only to turn and find there was nothing there.

You're losing it, Carter.

She needed rest; they both did. But without any gear and with their injuries, the two didn't stand a chance if Boridan caught up to them.

So when she saw a dark shape outlined against a straggly bunch of determined trees growing on a dry slope, her weary mind identified it as an old stump jutting up from the grass. Nothing dangerous, and certainly nothing alive.

And even when it moved, it took Sam a moment to realize that it actually was moving. She blinked and started to reach for the zat that wasn't there. It pulled itself upright, moving away from the trees as it shuffled closer. The horses stopped on their own, calm and unafraid. They seemed pleased to see…whatever it was.

To be honest, it still looked like a tree. Or a smaller version of an Ent from the Lord of the Rings movies. The creature's head was covered in a mass of spiky twigs, vines, and moss, which partially obscured a face covered in peeling bark. It was short and stocky, with thick limbs, smaller branches reaching out at odd angles every which way.

You've lost it, Carter.

When it spoke, it sounded nothing like…a tree. It was a woman's voice, seasoned and rich but not quite the kind of voice someone might expect from a talking tree. Sam supposed it was time for a mental evaluation when the possibility of a talking tree did not seem so insane.

"You've made it," the tree said.

Sam stared.

"Great ancestors, a woman with your talent and all you can do is gawk?" The woman—at least Sam assumed it was a female?—shook her head, sending clumps of moss flying. "But I suppose you cannot be blamed. You have come a long ways, after all."

She finally managed to get her voice working again. "…Gran?"

"Mm-hm," Gran bobbed her head again, shuffling closer to the two. Her body began to waver and reform as she moved, losing the tree-ish-ness and molding into something more human. She was tall and well-built, with defined muscles that defied her mane of gray hair. Slight wrinkles gathered at the corners of her eyes and lips, but she still looked young. Her ears were long and pointed and bounced a little when she walked.

"You two did well," she crooned to the two horses, feeding each of them a small treat she produced from a pouch on a belt that hadn't been there when she was a…tree. God, I am losing it. For that matter, none of her clothes had been there.

Maybe her species has the ability to shapeshift… Or it could be a chameleon effect, Sam mused. The clothes were similar in color to the bark, and she had been standing near trees. Once she moved far enough away from the trees, her disguise faded.

"Don't think too much," Gran advised without looking up at Sam. "We should get you two to safety. Quickly, they are coming."

Sam frowned, twisting in the saddle to look back the way they'd come.

"Don't look now. Looking will solve nothing." She patted the neck of Sam's horse and said something Sam couldn't quite catch. The horse snorted and stamped a hoof in the moist soil. "These two will take you to my home. You'll be safe there. I will ensure you aren't followed."

She didn't know if they could trust Gran. For all Sam knew, the woman could be one of Boridan's men, or someone else who intended to sell Sam and Colonel O'Neill off to the highest bidder. But she had no time to worry. The horses started off abruptly with no urging, angling along the slope. The colonel was still unconscious, but the horses moved with a gentle grace Sam hadn't noticed before. Neither of them were in danger of falling off.

They didn't ride far. Apparently they hadn't been far from Gran's home to begin with. But as far as homes went, it was nothing like Sam had ever seen before.

As they rounded the hill, they came to a dead end where a solid rock wall blocked their way. The horses didn't stop, didn't even slow, but kept on going.

They rode through the wall.

By the time Sam had recovered from the shock, they had reached the center of an underground cavern. The horses turned in a slow circle, allowing Sam a chance to get a good look at where they were. The ceiling wasn't far above her head; damp roots hanging from above brushed her hair. Several paths branched off from the main room, which was lined by all shapes and sizes of barrels and woven containers.

It was…bizarre, to say the least.

A young man emerged from one of the halls to opposite the rock wall they had entered through. He lifted a hand in greeting and approached slowly. "You can get down now. Gran's been expecting you for a while now."

Sam nodded, glancing over once at Colonel O'Neill, then swung down from the saddle. Her tired and cramped muscles complained at the movement, but she ignored them.

"I'll help you get him someplace more comfortable," the stranger volunteered.

Sam moved between him and the colonel. "Thank you, but I can manage."

He studied her wordlessly, then nodded after a moment, waving a hand towards Colonel O'Neill.

She took a step back, then turned and reached up to rest her hand on the colonel's knee. "Colonel? Colonel, wake up." His head bobbed a little, but he made no sign that he'd heard her. Her fingers tightened around his kneecap. "Jack?"

"Mm," he grunted. His head came up slowly and he blinked blearily. "Car…Carter?"

"Sorry, Sir. Think you can move a little?"

He stared down at the horse's mane, his brows furrowed as if he was trying to remember what he was doing on a horse. "Carter?"

"It's okay, Colonel. You've lost a lot of blood, but you're going to be all right."

He nodded slowly. "Carter?"

She patted his knee. "I'm here, Sir."

"I have to pee."

She stared for a moment, then closed her eyes and dropped her head, biting her lip to conceal a smile. He's going to be just fine.

"I have a room ready for the two of you," the young man said from just over her shoulder.

She started, turning quicker than she should have. A wave of dizziness slapped her, but she managed to stay upright. Exhaustion and blood loss were getting to her, and she couldn't live on adrenaline.

He winced apologetically. "It's okay, you can trust us. Gran does this all the time. I'll help your friend. You should go get some rest before you collapse and I have to carry you too."

There was nothing in his eyes or voice that hinted at deception. Both he and Gran seemed to be sincere…despite all the weirdness. "Thank you."

He nodded. "Gran will be back soon to see to your injuries. In the meantime, I've prepared some food and drink. It's waiting for you in there." He pointed down a hall to the left. "Go rest. You are safe here," he promised. "Now, please, go before I must become any more redundant in my assurances."

"Thank you," Sam said again.

She watched him help the colonel down from the saddle. Something inside her felt guilty for leaving the colonel with a stranger, but he was conscious, and while he had lost a lot of blood, he did seem to know what was going on around him.

"You called him Colonel?"

Sam nodded. "Colonel Jack O'Neill."

He looked thoughtful. "And you?"

"Major Samantha Carter."

"Ah, of course. Well, I'm…just Rhapak. You could call me Rhapak the Tunnel Keeper or Rhapak the… Well, you can call me whatever suits you."

Sam let herself smile for real this time. "Rhapak is fine. You can call me Sam."

Rhapak looked down at the colonel. "And…?"

"Jack," Colonel O'Neill coughed. "Who still has a pressing matter that is becoming something of a concern."

"Of course," Rhapak nodded. "Enough from me, then. Let's go."

Sam found the room Rhapak had mentioned at the end of the short hall. The whole place smelled like rich soil and some kind of herbs, but it wasn't an unpleasant sort of smell. It was somewhat comforting, in fact. The room was small, but not the kind of small that makes you feel claustrophobic. More the comfy, curl up in a chair with a blanket and a mug of hot cider kind of small. Two hollowed out nooks in the walls held mattresses. The blankets were pulled back, and a rectangular table that sat between them had two wooden mugs of water and a bowl of what looked like crackers and cheese, though the crackers were larger than what came out of boxes in grocery stores.

Sam sat on the bed on the right, the mattress crackling under her weight. It was probably straw or something similar, though it didn't feel too hard. I'll just lay back for a few seconds. I should eat something, and I can't afford to let my guard down yet.

By the time Rahpak brought Jack back, she was out cold.

Daniel pushed away from his desk before he lost control and tore his notes to shreds. Four symbols. He didn't know what the sequence was, let alone the other two symbols. The search teams had found nothing, their allies had heard nothing, and there had been no word from Sam and Jack. Nothing. And all he could do was sit and stare at notes and those four damned symbols.

He jerked his glasses off and pressed his fingers to his eyes. I should be out there with Teal'c looking for them. We shouldn't have left them behind.

"I guess I don't need to ask how it's going."

Daniel looked up. Even without his glasses, he could easily recognize the man standing in the doorway. "Jacob. Hi."

The older man nodded and stepped further into the room. His eyes fell to the notes on Daniel's desk, fixed on the scrawled pictures of the symbols they did know. "Not much to go on."

"No. It's not," Daniel sighed. He reached for his glasses and slid them back on his face.

"Does the Tok'ra know anything more yet?"

Jacob shook his head. "No, but our operatives are working on it. So far all we know is we can rule out the Goa'uld."

That was pretty much obvious anyway. It didn't look like the Tok'ra were going to be much help this time. Which would be why Jacob was here on his own. Daniel stared at the symbols on his desk. "Any ideas?"

"I say we find those bastards and bring my daughter and Jack back."

Daniel nodded. "Good idea."

"I know somebody who might help, but we're going to have to find him first."

Daniel sat up straighter. "Who?"

Jacob smiled. "An old friend of yours, actually. Let's just hope he cooperates. George already gave the go-ahead, so as soon as Teal'c gets back, we're good to go."