"If it's not, you'll do what you must to stop me." She glanced down at her plate. "I know. I agree."

Hawke nudged her with his elbow. "Eat. After lunch, we're going to start your training."

She looked at him in disbelief. "What training?"

"Knives, weight lifting."

Her eyes widened, an expression mirrored by several other faces around the table. "Hawke . . ."

But he cut her off. "At the very least, you have to learn to defend yourself against another draden attack. Strength isn't built overnight. Neither are fighting skills. They take time and a lot of practice."

He was acting as if she'd been marked on purpose. As if she had a future as a Feral Warrior when they all knew that wasn't true.

He gripped her chin and gently forced her to look at him, to meet his steely gaze. "We don't know for certain that your being marked was an accident." His gaze lifted, and he met his brothers' eyes around the table. "It's time we all considered that. But we need you trained, and we're going to start today." His voice brooked no argument.

It wasn't that she was against learning how to fight draden or doing a little weight lifting, but . . . "There's evil inside me," she whispered, as if everyone in the room couldn't hear her. The knowledge cut like a blade.

Hawke's eyes softened even as his expression remained implacable. "There's an infection inside of you. And we're going to find a cure for it. You're not evil." He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the mouth. In front of everyone. As if he wanted them to see.

"You make it sound so simple," she grumbled.

He smiled at her, a smile of pure male confidence. "It is."

As Hawke released her and returned to his meal, she forced herself to take a bite of roast beef. If only she possessed a dash of Hawke's certainty, of his confidence in her abilities to pull this off, to be of some use to them.

She swallowed the bite, uncertain her knotted stomach would accept it, then took a deep breath. She'd never been a coward. Never. If they needed her to be able to fight, then she'd learn to fight. If this job was for life, and apparently it was, then she would be the best Feral Warrior she could possibly be, sparing herself nothing. If she didn't last long, so be it. But she'd go down battling their enemy, protecting their backs. And to do that, she had to learn how to wield some weapons.

The first thing she could do was force herself to eat.

Ten minutes later, the meal over, Lyon rose. "The second shift needs to sleep. Kougar, you're in charge."

Hawke held out Faith's chair for her, and she rose along with everyone else.

Tighe came over to her, his eyes kind, and extended his hand. Too far. As if he intended to share with her one of the full forearm greetings the Ferals reserved for one another.

It was one thing to work hard and to do what they wanted, but they all knew it was a lie. That she wasn't supposed to be one of them. She met his gaze, knowing he wasn't mocking her, but feeling that way anyway.

"Tighe . . ."

Though the kindness in his eyes remained, his expression took on a sharpness that was close to reproachful. "Take it, Faith. I don't offer it lightly."

She hesitated, but reached for him. As he grasped her forearm, his hand completely encircling her arm, she barely managed to curl her much smaller hand around the top of his. When he didn't let go, she looked up and found him watching her, his eyes very serious.

"Delaney told me how you refused to get into that car last night as they escaped, how you chose to help Hawke even knowing you were in grave danger. You impressed my wife, and that's no easy feat. You showed heart and courage and a willingness to sacrifice, Faith. Perhaps that was only due to your feelings for Hawke, but my gut tells me otherwise." He clasped her shoulder with his free hand. "My gut, and the fact that you came clean with us about your being marked, even knowing what it might mean for you, tell me you possess a lot of character. A strength that's far more important than any amount of muscle." He released her, his mouth kicking up, flashing a single dimple, though his eyes remained deadly serious. "So, yes, I offer you my respect and welcome. Unless you prove me wrong."

Her heart gave a small, painful thud at the thinly veiled threat at the end of Tighe's surprisingly warm welcome. And for the first time she began to realize the enormity of her situation. She was a Feral Warrior. Once she was brought into her animal, no matter who she'd been before, she would become one of the most powerful creatures on earth. If she used that power for good, to help them, to be one of them, she might find an ally in Tighe. If not, if goddess forbid, the darkness got the best of her, he would be her enemy. Possibly her executioner. They all would.

Except, perhaps, Hawke.

As Tighe stepped back, Wulfe moved forward, offering her his arm as Tighe had, the expression on his badly scarred face closed. When she laid her palm against his massive arm, his dinner-plate-sized hand encircling hers with ease, his expression softened. "Fighting skills can be learned."

She nodded, and he released her.

Fox was next. As he took her arm, he flashed her a smile that had surely slain ten thousand female hearts. "I've been fighting for years," he said, turning serious. "I've trained a lot of warriors, a number of whom came to me without skills. A number of whom were women. I'll teach you everything I know about fighting in human form. But the rest of it, we'll have to learn together."

Vhyper and Kougar stood shoulder to shoulder, watching, arms crossed over their chests. Neither approached her.

"She could be our secret weapon against the Mage," Vhyper said to no one in particular. "We'll send her into battle first, let her slay them with her smile. They'll never notice the rest of us until it's too late."

She couldn't tell if his words teased or taunted, and her cheeks began to warm in a way that wasn't altogether pleasant.

Kougar said nothing, his face expressionless, a gleam in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. He glanced pointedly at Hawke, who'd remained beside her, his meaning clear. If she hurt Hawke, Kougar would kill her. There would be no hesitating, no mercy.

To her surprise, Lyon stepped forward, but he didn't offer her his arm as some of the others had. Instead, he took her hand in both of his. "Don't take our caution personally, Faith. We're at war with the Mage - a war that, if we lose, will mean the destruction of the world as we know it."

"And they're trying to turn me into a weapon against you."

He nodded. "Possibly. But last night, you may very well have saved Hawke. You have my gratitude. And I promise you, we'll do everything in our power to free you from this dark magic. The rest is up to you."

She looked at him, uncertain he meant what his words implied, that they would give her a chance to prove herself worthy of being one of them. It was a long shot, of course. Even if they cured her of the infection, she wasn't the one meant to be marked. But if she proved to be a strong warrior, anyway, they might just let her live.

They were willing to give her a chance. Perhaps it was time she gave herself one. She smiled a quick, appreciative smile. "Thank you, Lyon."

He nodded and released her, then turned away.

She felt Hawke's hand on her shoulder. "I need to get some things."

"Where are we doing this, Wings?" Tighe asked.

"Backyard. I want to get her throwing some knives."

Faith gaped at him.

"Backyard it is." Tighe motioned her toward the back door. "It'll be interesting to see what animal you shift into, Faith." He held the door for her, and she stepped out into the warm sunshine as he and Fox followed. "Fighting in your animal is instinctive. But you won't always be in a position to shift. You need to know how to use a knife and swords, how to block attacks, how to attack where you can do the most damage. A year ago, I'd have said most of your opponents would be Mage or draden, but they may well be Ferals now. Or, goddess help us, Daemons."

"How in the hell do you fight a Daemon?" Fox asked.

"We're still figuring that out."

"Some animals are going to be better fighters than others," Faith murmured.

"Always."

"What animals are left? What might I be?" She was starting to wonder, and with the wondering came an excitement she hadn't allowed herself to feel until now.

The back door opened, and Hawke stepped out, igniting a small glow deep in her chest. She always felt better when he was close by. Safer. Stronger.

"Honestly," Tighe said, "I don't know. The seventeen were lost before I was marked. Since I've been a Feral, no one has ever talked about them except as the seventeen. Only Kougar and Lyon were around at the time. They're the only ones who know."

Hawke joined them. "It's something we never ask about. Even after all these years, the death of seventeen brothers is just too raw. But Kougar has been telling me things lately, stories of the past. I've been able to piece together a few things. There were once three birds - the hawk, the eagle, and the falcon. And one of my father's best friends was a horse." Hawke handed her the hilt of a knife. "Time to get to work."

For half the afternoon, the three men worked with her, showing her how to wield two knives at once, how to attack a Mage's hands first so he couldn't enchant her with his touch, how to protect her own head and heart. And how to throw a knife so that it landed stuck in a tree . . . or an opponent's eye . . . tip first. At least, theoretically. Mastering it would take years of practice. At one point, each held a two-by-four, urging her to pretend the ends were draden, ordering her to stab at them until the sweat was rolling into her eyes, and her muscles felt like jelly.

They nearly drove her to her knees. And to tears.

"Stop," Tighe said.

She was finding that Hawke was the hardest taskmaster of the three, which was unexpected. Then again, he cared the most that she learn to fight.

"Close your eyes, Faith," Tighe said.

"You've got . . . to be kidding." She was sucking in air through her nose, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

"Trust me. Just close them. You're relying too heavily on your vision. Your other senses haven't yet improved as they will when you come into your animal, but they're still stronger than you realize. Listen to the sound of the board, to the brush of fabric as we move our arms, feel the breeze from the boards. Sense them around you."

She could hardly even hold the knives any longer. But she did as Tighe suggested and closed her eyes. And immediately felt the end of one board bump into her arm and another nudge her hip. She stabbed wildly, hitting nothing.

With frustration bordering on desperation, she opened her eyes. "I can't do this."

"Aye, you can, Faith," Fox said, his voice soft and encouraging.

She swung her gaze to the golden one and glared at him.

His eyes smiled, but his expression remained serious. "Some of the finest fighters we have in the Therian Guard are females. They're quick and light and nimble. The most important thing in winning a battle, even hand-to-hand, isn't strength. It's confidence. The belief that you'll win. Seeing that certainty in your eyes strikes a blow into the heart of your opponent every time. He wonders what you know, what you can do, that he isn't ready for. It fecks with his mind. But to show that kind of confidence, you must believe in yourself. Completely. That's why practicing like this is so important. In the Guard, we train four to five hours a day. Every day."

She groaned.

Tighe tossed his two-by-four aside and came over to her, curving his arm around her shoulders. "Don't get discouraged. It doesn't happen overnight. You did fine today."

"Tighe's right," Fox said. "In my experience, a new recruit's initial strength and skill has almost no correlation to her ultimate fighting abilities."

Faith gave him a hard, exhausted look. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"Not at all. Within three days of beginning training, I can almost always tell who will end up at the top of the class. And it has nothing to do with his or her skills. What matters is how hard they're willing to work. How bad they want it. If you put everything you have into what you're trying to accomplish - no matter who you are or where you start - you can move mountains. And you did that today, Faith. You put everything into it. I'm proud of you."

She gave him an exhausted smile. "Thank you."

Tighe stepped beside Fox. "As I said earlier, a lot of us weren't happy about being chosen to be Feral Warriors. Not all of us wanted this job. We got it anyway, for whatever reason. And we've given everything we have to be the best damn Feral Warriors we can be. That's what we're asking of you, Faith. Simply to be the best Feral you can be. And cut us some slack when you turn into some big monster of a beast, will you? Remember that we're your friends." He grinned at her, and she laughed.

Fox and Tighe turned away, Tighe clasping Fox's shoulder as they headed back into the house.

Faith looked up at Hawke and found him watching her with a look of pride in his eyes that lifted her spirits more than Tighe's and Fox's words combined. "You did great," he said softly.

She rolled her eyes. "I did terribly. I couldn't kill a balloon if you held it still for me."

He chuckled, and she stepped forward and curled her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest. His chin brushed her hair. "Fox is right," he said. "More than anything, you need to start believing, Faith. Believe that you were meant to be marked. That you can do this. Even if you turn into a mouse."