Trying to ignore what he'd said about a "trial by fire," Eltarri sighed and dropped her head onto her folded arms. It wasn't fear that bothered her; she was persistently hounded by terror, and it was the kind that crippled her mind and body, that rendered her into a quivering and useless mound of paralyzed meat that could only sit back and wait in horror for its own destruction.

Bear steak, she thought miserably. My fear turns me into a big, bloody chunk of bear steak.

Corvus had killed dragons, and he spoke of facing the huge reptiles as though they were nothing more than unruly housepets. He’d come charging in to save her from the bear that would no doubt have turned seasoned warriors into bawling infants, and he’d willingly agreed to help take care of even more of the monsters when he didn’t have an obligation to do so. What kind of person was so downright eager to put themself into dangerous situations? How could anyone who lived the kind of life that he did know about being scared to death? Her head felt too heavy to lift up, but Eltarri wanted to make sure he answered her question before she fell asleep.

“Tell me the truth, Corvus,” she said, her voice more bitter than she intended. “Have you ever really been afraid?”