Cross-legged on the couch, Dawn balanced a notebook on her knees. Frowning with concentration, she chewed on the pencil between her teeth and glanced from the pad in front of her to the textbook sitting on a cushion between herself and Giles.

"I still don't get it," she stated with frustration.

Giles peered more closely at the math book.

"You see, first you, uhm ... factor, the- the, uh, the 'x'," he faltered. "Then you're left with ..." He gestured vaguely at the open page, "...this..."

Dawn fixed him with a challenging stare. "You don't get it either."

Giles shook his head. "Not in the slightest."

"I thought you were supposed to know this stuff," insisted Dawn with a pout. "I didn't think they let you graduate in England until you knew everything."

"And at the time, I did know everything," Giles confirmed. "It's since faded somewhat, I'm sad to say."

With a heavy sigh, Dawn tossed her notepad onto the coffee table, where it narrowly avoided collision with a bowl of chips. Her pencil soon met the same fate and rolled slowly off the edge onto the floor. Dawn eyed it with annoyance.

"I hate this," she complained irritably. "When am I ever gonna need trig anyway?"

Giles smiled a little at her vexation. "I remember saying something very similar when I was in school," he commiserated. "But that's just youth talking. You'll be glad for the lessons when you get older."

"So when exactly did you use trig in the real world again?" demanded Dawn, folding her arms over her chest.

"Don't poke holes in my attempts at grown-up logic, it's impolite," Giles chastised. He checked his watch and glanced toward the living room entranceway. "Buffy needs to get here soon. I've got work to attend to."

Dawn's lower lip jutted. "But you just got here! You haven't come over without an armed escort in like forever, and ... it's nice." Her expression brightened as she was struck with the most wonderful idea ever conceived. "You can help me with my homework!" She surveyed the discarded remains of her math. "I mean, homework for stuff that you'd actually know, like ..." She thought for a moment. "Oh! Okay, you can help with my history, because you're so old!" She smiled encouragingly.

"Now you'd think that would've charmed me into staying," Giles wondered aloud. "Can't imagine why it doesn’t appear to be working."

Both glanced toward the front door as it began to open and Buffy made an entrance. "Ah-ah, nobody leaves," Buffy announced firmly, peeking around the corner into the living room. "I've sounded the Scooby alert."

"What for?" asked Giles.

Returning to the foyer, Buffy could be heard trying to coax someone to accompany her inside. After much urging, Tessa inched her way into the living room. Her hands were clasped in front of her and she took stock of her surroundings with restless eyes that darted into every corner. There was no hood covering her head, and consequently, the silvered horns were instantly visible.

Buffy gently prodded the girl forward. "For her. Tessa, this is Giles and Dawn," she introduced. "They're friends."

"Hello," offered Giles doubtfully, while a surprised Dawn simply waved at their visitor.

Tessa flashed them a weak and nervous smile.

"Dawn," Buffy instructed pointedly, "why don't you and Tessa hang out, maybe watch something?" At Dawn's agreeing nod, Buffy headed into the kitchen.

"Wow, an order to stop my homework for TV." Dawn bounced delighted on the couch. "I love this job!" She turned her smile at Tessa, who shyly returned the gesture.

"Of course that TV time comes out of later," Buffy hastened to clarify over her shoulder. "When you'll be finishing up your homework."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "I knew it was too good to be true." She refocused on Tessa. "Hey. So, do you like 'Lost'? I think we still have last week's episode TiVo'd."

"Excuse me one moment," interrupted Giles. Favoring Tessa with a small but intrinsically polite parting nod, he followed Buffy into the kitchen, but she had her cell phone clamped to her ear and he was forced to wait while she completed the call.

"As soon as you can, both of you," Buffy was urging. Her tone grew a tad snippy. "Yes, it's important. Bring whatever stuff you might need to send someone to another dimension." She paused for a moment, listening. "No, not Dawn. It's ..." A tiny frown creased her forehead as her words trailed away. "What are you doing?" she asked. "It sounds like—" Her eyes widened. "Never mind. Do not tell me. Just get here as quick as you can."

She acknowledged confirmation and then disconnected the call.

"Buffy, what's all this about?" whispered Giles.

"We're helping Tessa get home," Buffy told him matter-of-factly, reaching into one of the overhead cupboards for a glass.

Giles lowered his voice even further. "Can Tessa not get herself home?"

"Apparently not," shrugged Buffy, turning on the faucet. "She went through this 'shirk it all' thing in her dimension and wound up here. Now she's stuck." She took a gulp of water. "On top of that, she's got some major badass hunting her down, so we've got to get her home pretty quick."

Giles glanced curiously toward the living room. "And she's being hunted why again?"

Buffy arched a speculative eyebrow. "Whoever it is think she killed some people. Which, I know, cause for pause, but ..."

She moved to the entrance of the kitchen and looked at Dawn and Tessa sitting on the couch. Giles joined her. The eyes of the two teenagers were glued to the television screen. The TiVo had been paused on a bare-chested Sawyer, who was exhibiting his pecs and dimples for the camera. Tessa appeared to be infinitely more relaxed now and the pair were chattering animatedly, appreciating the frozen image with blatant admiration.

Buffy shook her head. "I don't think she's a killer, Giles. Take away the horns, and she could be any one of Dawn's harmless – albeit way, way too phone-obsessed – friends."

Giles wasn't quite so sure. "I don't recognize her species," he advised cautiously. "She doesn't seem dangerous, but ..." His attention turned from the two girls to Buffy. "I want to do some checking. Find out for certain what we're dealing with."

"No argument," she agreed.

As Buffy and Giles conferred, they continued to watch Dawn and Tessa. The bowl had been placed on a cushion between them and the math book tossed carelessly onto the floor. Both were helping themselves to liberal handfuls of chips. They groaned every time Kate opened her mouth and then, in unison, pitched chips at the screen before giggling and nudging each other.

"It's nice," mused Buffy, "helping for a change."

With a serious expression, Giles regarded his Slayer. "Buffy, you help people all the time."

"No, I know I do," she recognized, "but it's sort of a pre-emptive thing. I mean, unless I royally screw up, they don't ever know I'm there at all. This though," she waved a hand in Tessa's direction. "This is me being all proactive. Touching humanity. Or, demanity."

A small frown furrowed her brow. That didn't sound quite right. She shrugged as though to say, 'Oh well.'

"Anyway, it's nice," she confirmed emphatically. "That's my point. I don't feel killy, I feel Peace Prizey."

Giles and Buffy jumped slightly as piercing shrieks of delight emanated from the couch at Sawyer's reappearance.

Buffy visibly winced. "Though if I have to listen to that for too much longer, we could be right back to killy again with alarming speed."

Pushing against one of the heavy wooden doors of Slayer Central's main entrance, Willow held it open for a book-laden Tara before joining the blonde on the top step. Tucking the few volumes she was carrying beneath her arm, Willow hefted a satchel over her shoulder and the couple proceeded down the stone stairway to the street.

"Sorry again for the interruption," Willow said regretfully.

"Stop apologizing," ordered Tara with a twinkle. "It's probably for the best anyway, or we might've been in there all night."

"Then there'd be search parties and unflattering pictures on milk cartons ..." Willow predicted.

Tara nodded. "See? Buffy flashed the Scooby Signal just in time."

"We'll have to thank her for saving us from ourselves."

Turning a corner, the pair passed through a residential area where it appeared the neighbors were engaged in savage competition to see who could create the most obnoxiously ornamental front yard. Neon pink flamingos stood one-legged guard with alarming regularity and ugly little painted gnomes toting various implements were dotted everywhere. Small stone statues, some in good taste and others not so, supplied the source for miniature waterfalls and one yard sported a rock garden that looked as though a dump truck had haphazardly deposited its load from the local quarry. The witches took in their surroundings with a skeptical and unimpressed eye.

"So," Tara broached, keen for a distraction, "what's the emergency?"

"She didn’t say," Willow replied with a frown. "I'm sure there'll be a big exposition scene as soon as we get home."

"But given what she said ..." Tara pressed. "Do you think she wants us to open a gate? Because our last attempt wasn't exactly, you know ... what you'd call a success."

Willow wrinkled her nose. "That order was a pretty darn big one to fill, though. Plus we had Spellapalooza coming up right after and we couldn't go all out." She smiled at Tara comfortingly. "So there's that."

"True," acknowledged Tara slowly, still somewhat doubtful. "And it was a lateral move on the same plane, which is a bit different. Whatever Buffy needs, it sounds dimensional."

"And if we're really lucky? Won't involve a whole army," added Willow.

Tara remained thoughtful. "I'm pretty out of the loop on a lot of dimensional stuff."

Willow turned to her with bubbling enthusiasm. "Oh, it's fascinating! I've learned so much since being on Professor Kane's research team. Like—" She paused, but only for a brief second. "Okay, so you know how we perceive time and space as being fixed, right? All rigid and immutable?" Tara was going to nod, but realized it was pointless since Willow was now on a roll and not necessarily looking for confirmation. "Well Professor Kane theorizes that if you can excite the quantum particles enough to actually bend reality, then an object can become displaced and ..."

Her words trailed away as she noticed that Tara was no longer looking interested simply in the dissertation, but Willow couldn’t entirely interpret the new expression. "What?"

"I love it when you talk geeky to me," Tara responded with an enigmatic smile.

Sporting a huge grin, Willow waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "Well then get ready baby, cuz when we get home, I'm breakin' out my physics textbooks."

"Work first," Tara replied, making every effort to shake the image of such a delightful promise. "Buffy's counting on us to work the magicky mojo, so we'd better—"

Cut off mid-sentence, she was suddenly jerked violently backward. The books she had been carrying tumbled to the pavement as her limbs were twisted and pinned from behind. Before anyone was able to fully digest what had transpired, an arm had snaked around Tara's throat, squeezing so tightly that the blonde was visibly fighting for air, her breath coming in short and labored gasps.

Willow cried out Tara's name, then turned to the captor with a fully-fledged glare of vengeful wrath. Denali regarded her from over Tara's shoulder with quintessential calm. Willow's lips began to move but before she could verbalize, she was issued a warning.

"No spells, witch. I get so much as a tingle of magick and I'll snap your girl's neck."

Willow bit back the impending chant, but her expression grew even more furious. "Let her go. Now."

Denali shook her head. "First, let's chat. Then—"

This time, it was Denali who had no opportunity to finish her sentence as a hefty chunk of rock collided with the back of her skull. Stunned, she allowed Tara to slip from her grasp. Coughing and retching, the blonde staggered forward into Willow's waiting arms. Supporting her partner securely around the waist and now crackling with righteous energy, Willow turned to spit a spell in Denali's direction, but there was no need. Faith had assumed control of the situation and was pulling the dazed attacker to her feet by two fistfuls of shirt.

"Likin' the plan," approved Faith. "Got topic suggestions an' everything."

Much to Faith's surprise, however, Denali was recovering from the assault more swiftly than expected. With a burst of speed that was almost a blur, she hauled back and punched Faith squarely in the jaw. Faith's neck snapped to one side at the force of the impact, but she refused to loosen her hold. Regaining equilibrium at an amazing rate, Faith retaliated with a powerful headbutt. Blinking rapidly, Denali returned with a well-aimed jab but this time, Faith was ready. Releasing one fistful of bunched-up shirt, she easily blocked the blow.

"You're fast," Faith acknowledged.

Apparently Denali had been prepared for her attack to fail, and quickly followed up with a left-handed attack. It took Faith off-guard and connected solidly. Still, Faith maintained her vice-like grip on the front of Denali's shirt.

"Strong, too," Faith commended before striking again with a vicious chop to the windpipe, which Denali was helpless to dodge.

She reeled a little and began to choke, but still Denali didn't buckle. Taking full advantage, Faith followed-up with straight punch to the bridge of the nose. Denali lurched, her resistance beginning to wane. The knee driven sharply into her solar plexus knocked much of the remaining wind from Denali's sails, but Faith wasn't quite done. The coup de grace came with Faith finally releasing her hold on Denali's shirt and letting loose with an uppercut that literally lifted Denali off her feet, sending her crashing to the concrete.

"An' hey, you can dish it out and take it," Faith told the still conscious Denali. "I'm impressed."

From her prone position, Denali clutched at her stomach and looked up at the victor. "What ... what are you?"

Her glare still firmly in place, Willow came to stand next to Faith. Despite her anger, she was studying Denali with interest.

"She's like you," Willow replied. "A Slayer."

Clearly puzzled, Denali stared at Willow for a long moment and then her eyes traveled back to Faith. Slowly, her gaze returned to Willow and she frowned.

"A what?"

In the dining room of the Scoobies' House, Buffy had commandeered Willow's laptop. Though nowhere near as research-savvy as its owner, Buffy was doing her best to ferret out information, tongue protruding from the corner of her mouth. She frowned occasionally at Giles, who alternately breathed down her neck and then jabbed a forefinger at the various site recommendations listed by Google.

Dawn and Tessa, meanwhile, were still watching TV.

"See, that's the thing," Dawn stated firmly, gesturing to the screen with some annoyance. "I can't tell if he's evil. I mean, he's pretty much always creepy, that's a duh." Absent-mindedly, Tessa nodded in agreement. "But then one second he's dishing out advice like he's Dear Abby, and the next he's ripping the skin off pigs and flinging knives. You need a scorecard, y'know?"

Tessa's attention had wandered and she didn't immediately answer She was leaning back against the couch, peering toward the entrance to the kitchen, presumably trying to see through it to what Buffy and Giles were doing. "I think he's evil," she finally responded distractedly.

Despite her thoughts being elsewhere, Tessa nevertheless sounded quite confident in her appraisal – a fact that Dawn seemed to find extremely interesting.

"Why's that?"

Refocusing on Dawn, Tessa shrugged. "He smiles too much."

An expression of contemplative confusion crossed Dawn's face, and Tessa gave her an amicable smile. It wasn't long, however, before the demon's gaze drifted back toward the kitchen. Almost immediately she caught herself and, seeming ashamed, lowered her head and dropped her eyes to her lap.

"We're going to figure it out," Dawn told her consolingly.

"I feel like I've been running for so long," sighed Tessa, restlessly twisting her fingers. "Like I'm caught in a nightmare and I just can't wake up, you know?" She shot Dawn a desperate glance. "I'm afraid to believe you."

"I get that," nodded Dawn sympathetically. "I really do. A little ways back ... I had someone after me, too. She was strong, and powerful, and seriously scary – and I'm not just talking about her hair." Dawn grinned at her own attempt at levity, but Tessa failed to get the joke. Dawn didn't bother trying to explain it, choosing instead to continue her story. "She was looking for me, and I knew – I just knew she'd find me and when she did ... that'd be it. I'd be dead."

Tessa hungrily absorbed Dawn's every word, listening with rapt attention. It was obvious she felt exactly the same way.

"You know what, though?" Dawn continued with a comforting smile. "I'm still here, and it's because of Buffy." Dawn's own gaze gravitated toward where Buffy was sitting somewhere out of sight. "Buffy swore she'd take care of me, and she did. My sister beat a god for me." She paused and frowned slightly as she glanced back to Tessa. "I’m ... sort of hoping she won't have to do that for you because the story kinda gets a little bumpy after that." She shook off the memory and got back on track. "The point is: you can believe me. Believe her. She's Buffy."

In silence, Tessa processed this information, mulling it over in her mind, and it seemed as though Dawn's conviction was serving to bolster her own spirits. "You know one of the things I miss most?" Tessa asked softly.

Shaking her head, Dawn swiveled toward Tessa, moving a little closer as she sat sideways on the couch. On the television screen, even a shirtless Sawyer was ignored and forgotten.

"There's this place I like to go sometimes," Tessa confided. "Okay, lots of times," she admitted with a chuckle. "When I'm there, I feel ... special. Like it was made just for me?" Dawn nodded her understanding. "It's so beautiful. See, we don't have day and night like you do here. Instead we use the Abatshin. They're ..." She frowned as she tried to fashion a suitable description in a language that was not native to her. "They're little creatures. Like your ..." The frown intensified. "I haven't seen anything like them here. They're small."

She held her palms no more than an inch or two apart to illustrate the diminutive size.

"Very naughty," she relayed in an amused tone. "But harmless. And they sing." She gazed at Dawn's enraptured expression "Oh, Dawn, you've never heard anything so beautiful. There's no sound like it anywhere, not in any dimension. It's ... like love has a voice. And when they sing, the Abatshin glow this green light. It's passion, and comfort, and ..." She laughed happily at the remembrance. "And chocolate! It's everything you've ever wanted. We can tell the time by the intensity of the Abatshin song."

She inched closer to Dawn, as though she were about to impart a secret of paramount importance. Dawn followed suit, anxious to hear more. The pair huddled, heads together.

"In my special place, there's a nest of Abatshin," whispered Tessa. "They enjoy the company, so sometimes they'll dance too. They'll swirl around and play with your hair, always singing, always glowing ..."

By now, Tessa was virtually glowing herself. Her eyes shone and the joy she experienced from simply verbalizing the memory was almost tangible. Dawn couldn't help but be captured within its web. Then, Tessa ruefully shook her head.

"I don't do it justice," she confessed with an irritated frown. "You'd have to ..." Her eyes grew wide. "Do you think that maybe when Buffy finds a way to call a Shirconthal ... you could come visit me?" She took hold of Dawn's hand and squeezed. "I could show you the Abatshin, and- and just everything! There's so much you don’t have here that I want to share with—"

The sound of pounding upon the front door brought Tessa's reminiscences to an abrupt halt. Gone was the carefree and energetic spirit that had been celebrating her home just a moment before. It was replaced by a terrified soul, whose eyes were haunted by the threat of being relentlessly pursued to the grave. For a moment, it seemed as though she might take flight, but Dawn held firm to the trembling fingers.

"Dawn!" called Buffy from the dining room.

"I got it!" she hollered back, and placed her hand comfortingly on Tessa's shoulder. "It's okay. Just stay here, okay?" She pressed the point home. "Don't run."

Appearing nervous and jumpy, Tessa briefly nodded. Beneath Dawn's penetrating stare, she nodded again, more emphatically this time. Confident that Tessa would stay put, Dawn made her way to the door and turned the handle. She blinked in stunned surprise.

"Grip!"

"You haven't forgotten my name," he grinned. "It's a good sign."

Dawn squirmed through the small space she'd allowed herself between the frame and the edge of the door, pulling it closed behind her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"Currently, I'm standing on the porch wondering if that was the greeting I was expecting." Grip pondered the dilemma for a moment. "Uhh, hm. Gonna have to go 'no' on that."

"I meant, why are you here?" rephrased Dawn.

Grip raised a questioning eyebrow, but sustained the cheerful attitude. "I need a reason now?"

"Yes," confirmed Dawn without thinking. "I mean no!" she hastily corrected. "No."

"This is a bad time," he interpreted, his enthusiasm beginning to diminish.

"Sort of," Dawn admitted with regret. "See, there's this ... cousin. We have a cousin visiting." She glanced over her shoulder toward the house. "She's from a really long way away, and she's sort of nervy about being here. I'm doing the whole entertain thing." She threw him a tiny smile and Grip instantly brightened.

"Oh, that's cool then," he said. "We can all hang together. I like meeting new people. I'm gregarious that way."

"Yeeeah, no," Dawn countered reluctantly. "She's ... not. With the meeting. She doesn’t interact well with strangers, so I'm thinking not such a good idea."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry," offered Dawn repentantly.

Grip waved a dismissive hand. "No, it's cool. I'll just go hang myself." He smirked at Dawn's open-mouthed display of alarm and corrected, "Hang by myself. There's probably homework I've been neglecting anyway."

Dismally, Dawn studied Grip's expression. "Are you mad?"

"I'm not mad," he replied.

"Promise?"

"I promise I'm not mad," he assured, leaning over to deliver a quick kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She wasn't entirely convinced, but Dawn had little choice other than to agree. "Okay."

Dawn watched as Grip returned to his car. Looking back for an instant, he gave her a small goodbye wave, and she wiggled her fingers in return.

Left unsupervised, Tessa inspected the living room with avid interest, taking note of every detail. Leaving the couch, she gazed upon the many photographs lining the walls, but didn't linger. She browsed the DVD collection and examined every knick-knack until she reached a large chest in the corner. Curiously, she raised the lid and her eyes narrowed with appreciation. It contained a fine assortment of high-grade weapons – crossbows, swords, daggers and the like; a veritable arsenal. Kneeling, she examined the superb craftsmanship that had gone into their making and nodded, very favorably impressed indeed. She glanced toward the kitchen and then at the front door, but she was alone. A tiny smile began to form on her lips.

Since the attack, Tara's color and breathing had thankfully returned to normal. She sat next to Willow on a low parapet off of the main street where the attack had taken place. Faith and Denali stood nearby.

Denali was no longer under restraint, but Faith's vigilant eyes never left the face of the other woman. She seemed relaxed, but there was no doubt that at the slightest hint of implied threat or sudden movement, she was ready to act. Denali, however, gave no indication that she was about to launch another assault. She was staring at the stonework – through it – as she absorbed the information she'd learned.

"A Slayer." She rolled the word around on her tongue. "I have a title now." She considered the implications, then shrugged. "Can't say I feel any different." Her eyes fell on Willow. "And you did this?"

"Yeah," confirmed Willow with a crisp nod. "We were desperate. See, there was this really nasty incorporeal original evil, and a Helm's Deep-worth of ubervamps, and this scythe thing that just sort of appeared out of nowhere that I never completely understood but whoo, could that puppy channel some serious power." Her eyes sparkled at the recollection. "So ... So big battle, little spell, and ... here you are."

Faith rocked back and forth on her heels. "Someone shoulda come found you. Explain the mess Red got you in." She ignored Willow's sniff of indignation. "Guess you fell through the cracks."

"I'm not complaining," Denali was quick to assert. "When I felt it, when I became a ... Slayer. It was the best day of my life. Suddenly, I knew I had purpose." Her lips pressed together in a hard line. "When I discovered the demon world, right here on earth, killing people or worse, I just did what felt natural. I haven't stopped since." She puffed up slightly before announcing, "I've made 147 kills so far. Not a single one's escaped me yet."

She regarded Faith out of the corner of her eye as she voiced her accomplishments with something of a challenge, but Faith was unfazed and certainly not impressed.

"I'm proud of my record," Denali continued sharply, "and I plan to keep it in pristine condition. That's why I'm here. You've got a vicious killer loose in this town, and if I don't find it and stop it, there's no telling who it'll kill next."

Tara glanced around the group. "Maybe we should go see Mr. Giles? Tell him what's going on, get his help?"

"You can tell whoever you want, I don't care," replied Denali. "All I care about is that your Buffy Summers is keeping my demon from me." She scoffed openly. "Protecting it. The thing's a vicious killer. I want it back, and then I want it dead."

Willow motioned with her fingers, as though she could rewind the conversation. "Wait, Buffy what?"

Tara reached into the back pocket of Willow's jeans and dug out a cell phone. "Buffy wouldn't protect a killer," she dismissed confidently. Hopping down from the wall, she punched a number into the phone and brought it to her ear, stepping away from the others as she did so.

"Yeah, no way in hell," affirmed Faith. "Not unless she was sleepin' with it, or made it part of the gang or whatever. B's got a strict semi-tolerance policy when it comes t' that sorta thing."

She blatantly ignored Willow's ensuing glare, much as she'd ignored the indignant sniff.

"Good, then I'm sure she'll cooperate and we won't have any trouble," decided Denali. "This Buffy, she's a Slayer too, right?"

"The grade-A original, accept-no-substitutes Slayer," Willow pointedly informed with authority. "That's our Buffy."

Satisfied with the corroborating statement, Denali nodded. "Good, then she'll be able to take care of herself. Let's just hope she's not stupid enough to let that thing near innocents."

In the living room, Dawn and Tessa had resumed watching television. Grabbing her empty glass, Dawn also picked up the one Tessa had been using and arched a questioning eyebrow. With a grateful smile, Tessa nodded and Dawn made her way to the kitchen. As Dawn left the room, Tessa's cordial expression began to rapidly dissipate. She started with alarm at the sound of a doorknob turning and jerked her head sharply toward the main entrance. Without making a sound, she slipped from the couch.

"Hey, I'm—" announced Xander, but he never got to finish his cheery greeting.

With a yell of stunned surprise, he found himself under attack. Everything he was holding went flying from his hands and his body quickly followed. Before he knew what hit him, Xander was propelled out of the door, flat on his back, and being straddled by a horned figure who loomed over him with undeniably malicious intent.

Tessa was now easily identifiable with the photographs in Denali's file. The lips were drawn back menacingly and the eyes, previously soft and even bashful, blazed as though they were fueled by an inner fire. She might have been an entirely different individual from the one who had shared her secret world with Dawn.

Gripped firmly within her tight fist was the hilt of one of the serrated daggers from the weapons chest. Without hesitation, she raised it high above her head. The wickedly honed blade glinted dangerously in the light. Uttering a primeval snarl, she wasted no time in driving it downward.