And she would have died. Surely she would have died.

If the Bloodletter hadn’t first.

From out of the swirling fog, a ghostly figure appeared as if it had been formed of the filaments of moisture that rode upon the air. And the moment Xcor saw the specter, he narrowed his eyes, and relied upon his keen nose.

It seemed to be a female. Of his kind. Dressed in a white robe.

And her scent reminded him of something that he couldn’t quite place.

She was directly in the path of his father, but she seemed utterly unconcerned about the horse or the sadistic warrior that was soon to come upon her. His sire was entranced with her, however. The instant he took notice of her, he dropped the human woman as if she were naught but a lamb bone he’d already chewed the meat off of.

This was wrong, Xcor thought. Verily, he was a male of action and power, and hardly one to shy away from a member of the weaker sex. . but everything in his body warned him that this ethereal entity was dangerous. Deadly.

«Oy! Father!» he called out. «Turn about!»

Xcor whistled for his stallion, who came on command. Bolting into his saddle, he spurred his stallion ’s flanks, pitching himself headlong so that he could intersect his father’s path, a strange panic driving him.

He was too late. His father was upon the female, who had slowly crouched down.

Fates, she was going to leap up onto the—

In a coordinated rush, she went airborne and caught his father’s leg, using it as a way to vault onto the horse. Then, latching onto the Bloodletter’s solid chest, she sprang off to the far side and took that male with her as one unto the ground, the mighty lunge defying both her sex and her wraithlike nature.

So she was no ghost, but flesh and blood.