It took nearly two hours, but when he was done, almost in a swoon from the effort it had cost him, he was very pleased with the results. The metal of the Cat's Claws had been Transmuted into the exact same kind of metal of which his sword was made, that same strangely light, almost indestructible alloy that was not natural to his world, because all of the metals of which its alloy had been made did not exist on Sennadar. Though it was a creation of native magic, he could sense that the metal of the Cat's Claws were now harmful to a Demon, able to breach their invulnerability and strike them true injury. Though created by native magic, the result was a substance that still had no native existence in his world, and as such still constituted a weapon not of his world where it concerned a Demonic opponent. Just as the Ironwood of his staff had been raised in Sennadar and still had the power to harm a Demon, so this metal, created in his world, still had the power to do a Demon injury. He had used his own sword as a guide in how that metal was arrayed at its basest level, an organization of the tiniest of all pieces of solid matter, all of which did not exist in the natural order of his world. He saw that it was this alloy's properties that gave the sword its incredible edge and hardness, a toughness inconceivable to modern metallurgists, a metal so strong that it would take magic to make it bend or even break. The sword had been created by some strange alien magic, shaped into the form of a sword and given an edge that narrowed down to a single line of those tiniest bits of matter that made up its substance, quite literally because that was the only way it was going to be done. No smith's hammer could shape this metal, because it required a heat so intense that no smith could survive the temperatues required to melt the metal. The metal would not even melt in a volcano, it was that strong. He remembered when it had gotten red-hot in the desert after his battle with Spyder, how he'd been afraid to pick it up because he feared the blade would bend. Now he knew that it had never been in such danger. Though the metal did become red-hot, it would have been just as strong as it was now. The sword itself was curiously non-magical, but the properties of the metal and the need to shape it with magic, a magic that allowed the maker to give it as sharp an edge as could possibly be given to the weapon, made it as good as one.

Quite by accident, he realized that since he did have such an understanding of that metal now, he could conceivably Create it. But it was an unnatural substance, and as such it meant that the attempt would be exceptionally demanding, if he could do it all. But that was something to explore at a later date. One did not experiment with Druidic magic.

Completely drained, almost shaking with exhaustion, and suddenly absolutely ravenous, Tarrin leaned over his legs and gave himself a few minutes to recover. Jesmind wasn't back yet, and that was odd. He had no idea how much time had passed, but he knew it had been some good amount. Jesmind was too good a hunter not to have caught something by now. Tarrin put on the Cat's Claws and made sure they still functioned properly by extending the blades. With no sound, the metal reshaped itself, flowing down over the backs of his paws and extending out over his fingers, the edges of the blades lighter in shade than the black of the metal, an indication that they had reshaped themselves to form an edge just as lethal as the one on his sword. Nodding in satisfaction, he returned the blades and took off the two metal bracers.

Jesmind's scent blew in on a faint breeze that penetrated the fir grove, as well as the smell of blood and a large hooved animal. A moment later, she came into view, carrying an animal that had to weigh three times more than she did, but having very little trouble handling its bulk. She carried it into the clearing and threw it to the ground, wiping at a large bloodstain that interrupted the white of both her coat and the fur on her right arm. "Here you go," she said. "It doesn't smell all that appealing, though."

"It's something to eat," he said. "I don't feel like eating it raw, though. Let's get a fire going."

They did so quickly, putting a good fire down in a stone-ringed pit. Tarrin was too tired to use Sorcery for anything but lighting the fire, and in a very short time, they had large chunks of the caribou roasting on sticks over the fire. Jesmind leaned up against him, and he put an arm around her, taking in her scent and enjoying her closeness, but her scent was agitated, and her weary sigh told him she was still worried. It was only natural for her to be so, just as he was almost sick with worry for Jasana. But they were doing something about it, and that was the only reason he could bear it.

"It, would be nice if Jasana were here," she said in a small voice. "We've never once had a picnic together, do you know that? We never seemed to have had much time at all to be together."

She put her head against his shoulder and stared woodenly into the fire as he held her a little closer. "You can't give in to it, Jesmind," he told her. "We're doing something about it. Every time you feel this way, tell yourself that. We're on our way to get her back, and we will get her back. I need you to be strong, love. When the time comes, it's your strength that's going to get Jasana out."

"What about you?"

"I'm going to be making sure nobody tries to stop you," he told her. Then he remembered what he'd been doing. "Here, I want you to take these," he said, picking the Cat's Claws up from the ground, where they were laying by his sword.

"Aren't these those magic bracers Jenna made for you?"

He nodded. "I changed them a little so they can harm Demons. They will come after us, Jesmind. Val probably has them searching for us now, and when they find us, they're going to attack us in waves. My sword and staff can harm them, but now you have a weapon to use too."

"How can we fight so many?"

"We don't have to," he said. "There is a Ward that can stop them. We just have to survive long enough for me to raise that Ward, then I can kill them whenever I please."

"I guess that works," she said, holding up the two metal guards. "How do these work?"

"Put them on," he said, and she did so. She jumped a little when the black metal contracted around her lower forearm, then she laughed as she put the other one on. The black metal really stood out against her snowy fur. "All you have to do is want the blades to come out."

"That's all?"

"That's all. It does take a little effort, so you have to think hard about it. Go ahead and try."

Jesmind's brow furrowed in concentration as she held her paws out before her, and it took only a second for the bracers to react to her mental command. The metal flowed down over the backs of her paws with dazzling speed, then flowed out and set into the five span-long talons that extended past her fingertips. "That's all there is to it," he said with a smile. "With a little practice, you can make the blades longer or shorter, or only make one or two of them extend. You have complete control over them. They're sharper than razors, they won't break, and you don't have to worry about hurting yourself. They're enchanted so that they'll never cut their owner. If you tried to stab yourself with them, the metal would just retract when it touched your skin. They won't hurt you, even if you try to make them hurt you. I almost forgot, you can make them unbind themselves from your paws if you want to pick something up. They'll stick out over your knuckles when you do it, like four little swordblades."

"What about the one on my thumb?"

"It retracts when you unbind them by itself. It would be at an odd angle if it stayed out."

"I guess that makes sense," she said, turning her paws over and looking at her palms, seeing the ten magical claws extending over her fingers. "They really look intimidating," she mused.