"When I woke again, I was in darkness. Fighting my way to awareness, I realized I'd heard sharp voices. Yells echoed back and forth, calling commands to different ridings; from the distance there came the clang and clash of steel. I thought, elated and fearful. As if in answer, I heard his voice. "Mel! " I rolled to my knees, fighting against invisible knives of pain. One more cry of "Mel!" at slightly more of a distance enabled me to gather my courage and stand up. Diving through the tent flap, I screamed with all my failing strength, "BRAN!" And I clutched at the tent to keep myself from falling full-length on the muddy ground. A light mist bathed my face, making me shiver--a distant part of me acknowledged that in addition to everything else I had a pretty hot fever going. "Meliara! Mel! " A number of voices took up the cry, and I realized that all our people must have attacked. Again I gathered all my strength and started forward. Which was a mistake. My left foot simply refused to carry my weight. I started to fall, felt hard hands catching one of my arms. My leg jolted--and thank goodness, that finished me."