He hesitates, looking at Grima Mog’s sword, at Vivi’s large black bow, at Taryn and Nightfell. Finally, he looks at me. “Let me take you back to the camp, Jude,” Madoc says. “You’re dying.” I shake my head. “I’m staying here.” “Good-bye, then, daughter,” Madoc says. “You would have made a good redcap.”
