First Comes The One Who Wanders by Lynette S. Jones

saddle."
    Joshuas tossed his saddle down on the ground a few feet away from her. "There's some fresh grass just outside the door. He'd probably appreciate a bite, just like you."
    Leilas slowly rose to her feet, straightened her back, and did her best to walk normally to her mount. She didn't want Joshuas to realize just how exhausted she was. Not that he'd care, but she didn't want to give him any more ammunition against her.
    A twinge of regret rippled through her. She'd wanted to win Joshuas’ good opinion but it appeared that she hadn’t made a good first impression. She didn’t follow the thought that was teasing her that she'd wanted to do more than make a good impression; she’d wanted him to like her, to admire her. It didn't matter. She'd lived her life with very few friends –no friends– she didn't need his friendship, either, even though something inside her told her that they were destined to be together, somehow.
    Unbuckling the saddle, she dropped it to the floor near the rock she'd chosen as her spot. The blanket followed after she'd rubbed down the mount as best she could with it. Then, trying not to limp too noticeably, she slipped from behind the curtain of ivy and gathered a generous armful of grass.
    Dropping the grass near the entrance, Leilas called a small light and sagging onto a rock, she removed her boot, pulled back a breeches leg that was stiff with blood, and examined the wound the wolf had inflicted. There were puncture wounds that had bled liberally, but now just gaped blackly from her white skin. Unlike wounds that she'd endured at the hands of humans or nature, this bite hadn't already begun to heal. She'd never been wounded by a crafter before, she wasn't sure what to expect. She'd heard stories, though, and worried about them as she pulled her breeches down over the wound.
    Joshuas' words came back to her as she wished she had her healing bag. There were no powerful magiks here to help her. There was no one here to help her. She'd have to keep an eye out for some of the herbs that would help the wound heal and pray it didn't get infected.
    Pulling her boot back on over the swollen flesh sent shocks of pain through her leg, but she gritted her teeth and finished. Then she picked up her pile of grass and letting the light go out, re-entered the cave.
    She immediately felt the tension in the cave. Glancing from Brenth to her mother, she raised her eyebrows questioningly at Joshuas. "Nothing," he snapped at her. "Your mother and I merely had a difference of opinion."
    "Who won?" asked Leilas, dropping the grass in front of her horse. She doubted anyone in this cave would give her a straight answer and she was too tired and hurt too much to care.
    "Mother as far as I'm concerned," answered Brenth. He turned toward Joshuas as he answered her and Leilas knew his answer was a statement of loyalty. If Joshuas had wondered where the Prince's allegiance lay, now he knew.
    "I see. Was it something I should know about?"
    "No." All three of them shook their heads in unison. Leilas would have had to be a fool not to realize the disagreement had been about her. She wondered if anyone had been on her side.
    "Then I think I'll call it a night. I'm a little tired." Sinking down next to the rock again, she pulled her cloak around her and closed her eyes. Let them talk about her. She didn't care. She didn't need them.
    "But you do need someone." The voice was calm, alluring, and every hair on Leilas' body stood on end. She opened her eyes to see if anyone else in the cavern had heard the words. But no one appeared to have noticed the extra presence in the cave. Brenth was throwing small bits of the grass into the fire. Joshuas was chewing on a hard piece of jerky, staring into the fire and her mother was sitting quietly, meditating. Leilas closed her eyes and tried to block out the voice. Shifting to find a position that was more comfortable to her battered body, she wondered if she was going