Due to all your lovely reviews i uploaded another chapter! :D

My friend who usually checks my grammar and spelling (as i'm dyslexic) is on holiday now, so i've spent a long time trying to get this as accurate as i can, so i apologise for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

I also just found out i'm expecting another child, so i poured quite a lot of emotion into the chapter

I hope you enjoy it, and the next ought to be up soon.

Love you all so much

Rosee

Chapter 4

Dustfinger jerked awake when the first ray of light shot through the canopies above them. Squinting in the sudden light, he looked sideways at Meggie. She was still fast asleep, her head resting against his shoulder, and a pair of fairies curled up on her cheek. Smiling, he shooed them away and rested his head back against the tree that they were leaning against.

'I know they hide out around here...' a ragged voice hissed, 'they bury themselves here with the wolves and the nightmares – pigeons among...well, pigeons.'

Freezing in horror, Dustfinger looked down at Meggie again. He shook her as gently as he could, flinching as he heard the sound of hoof beats. 'Meggie,' he hissed, 'wake up!'

She jolted awake, and looked at him in equal horror at the sound. Dustfinger prayed that the terror running through his veins would not be betrayed on his face. He stood up slowly, pulling her up beside him, and, pressing a finger to his lips, drew the knife from his belt. She drew her sword, the muscles on her arm flexing – goodness, thought Dustfinger, she can handle a sword better than I can!

A million options flashed through his head, as the voices grew louder, and the distinct sound of horses snorting met his ears. 'The Adderhead'll have the Fire Dancer's head on a platter when we catch 'em,' one laughed, 'he don't like people escapin' from 'im!'

'Nah, it'll be 'is daugh'er's 'ead on the plate, served up ta him in the darkes', ro'iest dungeons any prisoner did rot in!'

The suddenly cutting, nasal addition of the Piper's voice sent Dustfinger faint with fear. 'Oh shut up, you disgusting little wretches. Find the Fire Dancer, the girl, and any of those foul vagabonds that you can – then the Adderhead decides their punishment!'

'We ain't decidin' boss, just playin' around,' another different voice – there were at least four of them; probably more.

'What do we do?' Meggie breathed.

It took barely a second for Dustfinger to make the decision – the same decision he had made a million times in his life – run. 'RUN!' He shouted aloud, yanking Meggie forwards as fast as he could. 'DROP THE SWORD!' He yelled - like she'd be able to get any speed carrying that great huge thing around.

The two of them sprinted through the wood. Dustfinger was oblivious to the thump of the horses' hooves, and the shouts of the men. It was his knowledge that saved them. The guards didn't know the Wayless Wood as Dustfinger did, and though they were on horseback, armed with swords and bows, it was the Fire Dancer who outsmarted them again. He turned around, raising the knife. He was no black prince, but when a man on horseback was charging towards you, aim wasn't difficult. He threw it as hard as he could, and it buried itself in the chest of the first guard, splitting the metal of his breastplate.

Luckily, Dustfinger wasn't stupid enough to stay a second longer for the others to arrive. He grabbed Meggie's arm and pulled her roughly into even denser woods, where the horses would not be able to follow them. The ominous clinking of metal caused him to urge her forwards, the image of the passage in his head. If he lost concentration for a split second, the location would fade from his mind.

They were both panting by the time they reached the water nymph's pool. Relief rushing through his veins, Dustfinger pulled off his boots and threw them as hard as he could into the trees. Meggie did the same, looking at him in confusion. There was an adrenaline-fuelled excitement in his eyes. He took her hands, pulled her forwards and jumped into the pool. The splash was deafening, and the ice cold water hit them like a thousand bullets.

The water stinging his eyes, Dustfinger blinked, looking around for the entrance. The gaping black hole made all fear disappear from his mind, and he pulled Meggie towards it. His lungs expanding, he dragged her into the thin passage, and after swimming for what seemed like forever they eventually broke the surface.

Meggie was gasping for air, coughing out water. Dustfinger slipped his arm round her stomach and pulled her to the side of the river. She staggered onto the banks, water pouring from her mouth and her breath short and choking. 'Never again!' She coughed, glaring at him, 'I'd rather get caught than have that happen again! Oh screw that,' she rolled her eyes, throwing her arms around him, 'thank you,' she whispered into his shoulder.

'Come on, we need to get out of here,' he nodded around at the children playing by the river, who had looked up in confusion.

He gently detached himself from her, and shivered slightly in the cold. 'Sorry, it was stupid taking you out into the wood like that, let alone falling asleep.'

'It's fine, my fault anyway,' Meggie smiled, walking alongside him. 'Besides it was fun.'

He looked at her sceptically.

'The wood bit, not the Adderhead's guards and big underwater escape bit. And what was that anyway?'

He grinned, just as they reached the outskirts of the Wayless Wood again, 'many years ago, Capricorn's men were chasing me, and the water nymphs dragged me under the water and pushed me down there. I thought they were drowning me.'

'Wow, Capricorn,' Dustfinger thought he could hear an odd note of reverence in Meggie's voice, 'that seems like a long time ago.'

'You were twelve years old,' Dustfinger smiled sadly. She had been so young, so pure, so afraid. Never would the image slip from his mind, of the little girl curling up in her father's arms in the old cowshed, terror written across her face as though carved there with a knife (as his own was).

'I was so scared,' she whispered, 'but now I'd do anything to be fighting him again.'

'Same,' Dustfinger smiled sadly, 'seems so much less unpleasant.' He suddenly pressed a finger to his lips and pulled her off the track into the undergrowth. Frozen in shock, she listened at the approaching hoof beats.

'We're dead,' a voice groaned, as the thundering approached ominously.

'Where did they go?' Another sounded incredulous.

'The Fire Dancer brought a bit o' death back wiv' 'im, right?' That one sounded arrogant and domineering, 'so he obviously vanished in 'fin air!'

Only when the sound died, did Dustfinger stand up and look around anxiously. 'We'd better go find the prince,' he sighed, helping Meggie up. She brushed herself off, exhaling loudly, 'well that was fun,' she said in a comically bright tone.

* * *

Dustfinger was sitting opposite a fire – no surprises there.

His heartbeat was very slow, his eyes slightly out of focus, as he whispered the fire words. He had been scared that he would have forgotten them, but they came back so easily after five years that he had tried to let them go. He breathed them, until the flame formed the face of a woman. Her. His woman. Roxane.

'Why?' He looked deep into the fire, as though looking into her soul. 'Why did you have to leave? Why did he have to choose you? It could have been Resa...Meggie...the bookworm – he had his choice of women loved ones...why did he pick you? WHY?' He felt the tears of rage rising to his eyes. It was the first time since the moment of death that he had really thought of it... and as it finally sank in, all sadness, all fear was wiped from his mind and replaced with pure anger.

'But now, I feel even worse,' he mumbled, taking his eyes off the flame, 'tell me, Roxane, just tell me why my heart beats faster every time I see her. Tell me why fire isn't my only vice anymore... tell me why I'm in love with someone else!' With a snarl of anger, he threw a rock next to him through the flame. Roxane's face flickered. 'COME ON! The fire can dance...it can take your appearance, it can sing! Why can't it talk?'

'I forgive you...' the face whispered, and Dustfinger stumbled back slightly. The fire shot towards him, and Roxane's lip almost touched themselves to his. He could feel the searing heat against his skin, but just as the flames brushed his lips, she dissolved and seemed to rush through him. He watched the sparks as they dropped onto the floor behind him. The scattered ashes of a flame that had died – the last he had of his black beauty.

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