Sparkl flitted northward to the caves and found the torch that hung on the wall opposite Feraila's prison cell. She drifted through the narrow crack at the bottom of the cell door, and hovered briefly near the pallet where Feraila lay. The elf woman was beautiful once, but the starvation and torture had drawn dark circles under her eyes, and the shine was fading from her long silver hair.
Feraila was asleep. Sparkl could hear the sounds of her lungs -- early stages of pneumonia, or maybe just a chest cold? "Not good!" thought Sparkl, "This place is too dark, too damp, too cold. This lady will be very sick soon."
Sparkl found her way back to the torch outside the cell door, then flitted to the campfire where Elendirill sat. For him, only a moment had passed while Sparkl was gone. Sparkl drifted over to his ear again and spoke to him.
"Your elf-lady needs you to come soon. I think she is getting sick. It is dark. It is cold. It is damp there. You must leave now, if you would save her. I saw Mari's map. It is good enough to get you near to the cave. Light a fire or a torch when you get there. I will come to your flame and guide you to the cave. Hurry! Hurry!"
Sparkl then drifted over to Shana, but could force herself to stay only long enough to say "Follow Mari's map. Leave now! I will meet you at the bridge."
The glowing spot of light that was Sparkl began to fade. It quickly darted toward the campfire, and was gone.
