"I'll do that." She ought to find out if she could still relate to normal civilians, she supposed; except for visiting the Harrisons, she'd been in a strictly-military environment since the attack. And not even a normal military environment, between the hospital, her Inquisitor's training, and starting a Strike Force team. She knew she'd changed, for what would generally be considered the worse; what she didn't know was how much. "Great! If you don't mind, I'll drop back now and pass your invitation along." "Fine." She rode alone the rest of the morning, glad when they got into the forest and out of the rapidly-warming sun. She was pleased to find she could still appreciate the sounds and smells of the forest, the squirrels and birds, the green-tinged light. Lunch was good, though she was restricted to broth and more grateful for the brief relief from jarring pain than for the unsatisfying pre-surgery meal. 8. Ambush Back on the road, about an hour later, Cortin spotted a rider coming in their direction. He was apparently daydreaming, because it was a few seconds before he saw the group--and when he did, he reined around and galloped back the way he'd come. Cortin stopped, frowning, and motioned Odeon to join her. Most people didn't like getting too close to prisoner escorts, no, but leaving at a gallop was a rather extreme reaction. Not necessarily a guilty reaction, and not one she would normally be justified in having him pursued or shot for . . . but it bothered her. When Odeon reined in beside her, she said, "I don't like the looks of that. It could mean nothing, but it could also mean trouble. Patrol formation, I think, with you at point; as Tracker, you've got the best chance of spotting trouble before it spots you." "Right. And I'd recommend Tony as rear guard; he's the closest we have to a second Tracker." "Agreed." As he rode ahead, Cortin dropped back to the main group, briefed them, and sent Degas to the rear. This wasn't good ambush country--the woods were open, with the road avoiding rough terrain wherever possible--and they'd be in secure territory when they got within an hour's ride of the retreat; even when the Royal Family was elsewhere, there were security and housekeeping staffs in residence. When they moved out again, she stayed with the group, all of them alert for unusual movements or sounds. Cortin found herself half-hoping for action, though she also wanted to make it through without having any of her people hurt or killed.