Lys: Vortigern!

She had.

She shrank back, pressing closer to the pony next to her. "Vortigern." She'd heard enough to know that it was the last place she wanted to be.

With a deep breath, she forced herself to keep walking, but her expression was that of a doe walking into a trap. It was no good turning to run. The living tree next to them would catch her easily. And she would not cry or beg or anything so silly.

And so she forced one foot forward, and then the other, making herself push on.