That night they found respite beneath a cover of leaves and dirt; the next day they awoke freezing and covered in dew. As Connelly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he was disquieted to notice both Derrick and Quinlan missing. Not that he would miss them; they were hardly his favorite people, and besides, they'd done nothing but cry ever since the ambush. Though he supposed this was a normal reaction, he didn't want to wonder. It was a little difficult not to wonder with them around. He jammed his fingers into the ground. No, what bothered him was that he didn't know where they were or whether the Paddocks had something to do with the disappearance. It made him uneasy.

Finn sat up with a jolt, sending forth a spray of leaves and dirt clods. "Derrick and Quinlan are gone, druid," said Connelly.

Finn was fully awake now.

"I'm not a druid yet," he said, climbing to his feet and searching the ground for Derrick and Quinlan. He tried swinging his bronze leg at a few promising lumps but to no avail. They were gone.

Connelly shrugged.

Finn rubbed the dirt from his eyes and inspected the spot where he was sure the two had been sleeping. Yes, there were the bare spots of ground they'd left. He quickly covered them up. They seem to have headed... ah. Back to the ambush.

"We should get going, don't you think? The hour's late," said Connelly, climbing to his feet. His stomach growled.

"Connelly, we need to find them," said Finn.

"Feis ort," said Connelly. "We walked all day yesterday. There's no way I'm walking all the way back for... those two."

"'Those two' are possibly the last hope our clan's bloodline has for continuing," said Finn, a dull ache starting to develop behind his left temple. He didn't want to head back by himself but, Ena help him, he would if he had to! "If those two die, our clan dies with them, and if our clan dies," he said, "then the Paddocks have won and we might as well give up."

Connelly spat and looked uneasy; his eyebrows, however, were pushed into an obstinate furrow and his jaw was set in defiance. He wasn't a rider; he knew it. There would be no more riders from his clan. He knew it would sound silly to say, so he didn't, but without riders their clan was dead already. Riders were the clan. He yawned involuntarily, picked up the sword he'd stolen the other day and began stumbling away, down towards Croston.

"Connelly!" Finn yelled.

The boy didn't even look back. With a curse, Finn spun around and began to head back towards the remains of his clan. He hoped this was a good idea.