Jim and Claire managed to sneak back into camp a couple of hours before nightfall, before everyone would start waking up. They'd set up a makeshift washing line between two stalagmites and hung their wet clothes to dry. He'd brought a change of clothes for himself, but he had obviously not anticipated the events that had followed his trek to the river. Claire took his boxers and shirt to wear, while he had traded his soaked cargos for his baggy sweats.
As they had snuggled together on her sleeping bag, an extra blanket tossed over them, he idly wondered if the others would be able to tell what had happened. They had rinsed off in the river before coming back to camp, but he could still scent their mating. Claire's scent, especially, was still heavily mixed with his own. Jim didn't care if the others knew, but he hoped that they wouldn't embarrass Claire. Jim's thoughts trailed off as he fell deeper into sleep, Claire already dead to the world and snoring softly by his side.
. . .
He was in Troll Market.
Jim recognized the room immediately as the dungeon, with its cages full of gnome skeletons above him, the pit leading to The Deep spanning the middle of the room. He could feel himself being restrained as he kneeled on the cold, stone floor. He looked around frantically only to realize that the Krubera were surrounding him, two of them keeping him from being able to move. He felt weak, like he had when he was human, but he could feel his teeth against his mouth and the horns on his head. Still, he struggled to free himself from the trolls' grasp, but it was like they had petrified him into place. He could scent Claire close, like she was right next to him, but he couldn't see or hear her anywhere.
"What's going on?" Jim shouted, his voice echoing around the chamber. "Claire? Where is she? What have you done?!"
The Krubera remained silent until they began tapping their spears against the ground in the same rhythmic pattern as Gunmar's minions. Terror welled in Jim's chest, expecting the demonic troll to materialize in front of him, but he was surprised when it was Usurna who walked into his line of vision instead. She was holding some kind of package wrapped in cloth in her huge hands.
Jim's terror escalated drastically, though he had never been afraid of Usurna. It was the package she was holding, he realized. For some reason, the idea of it being in her hands scared him more than anything, more than even the terror he had felt when Morgana's death magic was heading straight for Claire. Usurna turned toward the pit and dangled the package over the darkness, the cloth stretching in her grasp.
"No, don't!" Jim screamed, his heart pounding in his throat. "Please! I'll do anything—!"
Usurna let go and the package plummeted into the depths, the cry of an infant echoing after it.
"No!" Jim screamed, springing to his feet in full fight mode. The Amulet had already reacted to his panic and had materialized his armor onto him, Daylight poised and ready to swing.
"Jim!"
"Trollhunter!"
"Master Jim!"
"Is he okay?"
"Good heavens, lad! An old man needs his sleep!"
"Is there an enemy?!"
"Oh, I can't see! What is happening?!"
"What's up, bro?"
"Mi Amor?"
Claire. Claire was in front of him, jumping up to grab his horns and yank his head down to her level. Jim blinked, his heart racing, and reality came crashing down on him. He was in the cavern with his pack and mate; they were traveling across the country; they had stopped to rest; he was safe; they were safe.
