Disclaimer: I do not own Legend of the Seeker. This writing is for entertainment purposes only and is not for profit.

As long as the Mother Confessor's pure heart beats, the Keeper is doomed to fail.

As time went by, this became Cara's mantra. Constantly present in her mind, the words drove her. They were the purpose to be upheld through toil and peril. During the daytime, they were a subtle glow, underscoring her actions on a nearly-subconscious level. At night, especially while she was on watch, they came to the forefront, echoing in the empty silence as she stared into the inky darkness. Shimmering disturbances in the air brought about a change in volume. The words throbbed with every beat of her own heart, relentless, a steady crescendo with no diminuendo. Her mission, her duty; everything hinged on that statement. True to form, Cara was not going to take it lightly. So she committed it to her every action, attaching her own fate to its implications.

That statement was exactly what led to their current arrangement.

When the Seeker and his team learned of the prophecy, along with the secrets of the scroll that dictated the use of the Stone of Tears, a divergence was created in their path: not a single road, but one that forked in two completely different directions. The first led once again to the Stone of Tears – the other to safety in hiding for the Mother Confessor. Deliberation and argument invariably followed, over the important matters: who was to go where, with whom, when, how, or if they should split up at all.

Zedd was the one to come up with the most logical solution, of course. He would accompany Richard on that path that extended into the great unknown, in continued search for what now seemed simply unattainable. Cara and Kahlan would depart, search for safety in seclusion, taking the prophecy at its word. If it was indeed accurate, Cara's abilities were of more importance to Kahlan's safety than to Richard's. They would meet up again when it was all over. When they had won.

(silence had lingered for a moment, during which the gravity finally settled)

Even though both Richard and Kahlan tried, tried with all of their might and combined brainpower, they couldn't justify any other solution. They had nothing better to offer, nothing that could keep them together. No persuasive arguments, no eureka moments of epiphany.

It was what must be done, for the future of the living. For their own future, together. As long as the Mother Confessor's pure heart beats. It had to keep beating.

Richard came to terms with the decision before Kahlan did.

"Kahlan," he had said softly, gently lifting her chin so that her tear-filled blue eyes met his, "we've been separated before. I've always come back." She blinked, and a few drops escaped and rolled over her cheeks. He brushed them away. "You once told me to do something – to leave – on the grounds that you love me. That you couldn't live in a world without me. Right now, I'm asking the same of you. Please, Kahlan." He swallowed, closing his eyes for a moment. "I'm asking you to stay alive." The words were the same as the ones that she had used to convince him all that time ago. "If you can stay alive, then we'll see each other again. I promise."

Her hands were trembling, and he drew her into a tight embrace. Her weight slumped against him, a sort of surrender. A handful of paces away, Zedd and Cara took their cue to face the opposite direction.

"Richard, I'm frightened." Her whisper was almost lost against his shoulder, but he heard her. He had left before, but this was different. They would be apart until their journey was finished. The sense of finality gripped her stomach and squeezed her heart. "If I can't be with you…" The words trailed off into nothingness, in case speaking the words would make her fears come true. The conclusion was lost. If I can't be with you in the end.

"I've always been with you," he replied. "And that's not going to change."

She kissed him, then, cupping his cheeks in her hands and drinking in deep. It was desperate, heated, and they wished they could take enough to last a lifetime. His arms encircled her waist and held her close, and he only let go by the intervention of concentrated power of will. Kahlan shuddered as their lips parted, leaving her forehead pressed to his.

"Go with Cara," Richard had murmured, dropping his hands to grasp hers. After a second of hesitation and deep, deep breath, Kahlan nodded, biting back more tears. Acknowledgement of fate. Apart, for a little while. Just like before, he'd return to her. He always found a way. He was the Seeker.

He gave her hands one final squeeze, accenting it with a mental wave of reassurance he hoped she could feel. She held his warm gaze, and unrelenting strength poured from them. If he could be strong, so could she. She gave a tiny nod, catching her lower lip between her teeth.

And then he let go. Her arms fell to her sides as he made a few strides towards where Zedd and Cara were waiting.

"Take care of her. Keep her safe." His voice was grave and his gaze was stern, almost dark, not typical of Richard. Cara raised an eyebrow at him before nodding somberly. Yes, Lord Rahl, it said. A solemn oath.

Too quickly, it was time. Richard held the compass in his hand, craning his neck in the direction in which it commanded him. Zedd stood beside him, at arm's length away, having already said his goodbyes. Too much space separated them from Cara and Kahlan, who were poised to head in the opposite direction. Richard had to make sure his voice projected, had to make sure his words were perfectly clear as they passed through that absurd amount of open air.

"Keep Cara in line, will you?" he commented to Kahlan with an impish grin, raising his eyebrows. "Make sure she stays out of trouble."

Kahlan giggled, the action contrasting with her red-rimmed eyes. Cara gave a good-natured roll of her eyes, shouldering her pack, relieved to see the smile on Kahlan's face. It would be a long time in hiding if all she planned on doing was crying.

"I will," she promised, glancing at the Mord'Sith. Then, she looked back at Richard. "Stay alive?"

Richard beamed, and it sparkled under the afternoon sun. Kahlan made a copy of the image in her head. "Only if you do." A beat. "I'll see you soon." Another, longer. "I love you, Kahlan Amnell."

Her smile softened along with her voice. "I love you too, Richard." Cara pursed her lips, doing her best to make it subtle.

They were off, then. Separate directions, separate missions, separate destinies, until their paths crossed again. Cara and Kahlan headed east, stopping only for short, inadequate bursts of sleep, hiking through the woods and the chill that had begun to settle in the air. They worked in zigzagged trails, around and over and under, circling here and there, but always making sure to cover their tracks. Kahlan was quiet at first, with an air of gloominess, and Cara found herself talking more than usual to make up for the silence, always in hushed tones. Eventually, Kahlan brightened. Cara did not think she was the factor that made it happen.

After a few taxing days, they finally came to an acceptable spot: a wayward pine, huge, with strong branches, one that seemed to have been put there just for them. Kahlan stopped one day and pointed excitedly, telling Cara that Richard had introduced her to that kind of shelter. Cara crossed her arms and considered. The area was isolated and thick with trees, far from the regular path. She could hear the babble of a stream somewhere in the distance. The last town they passed was half a day's walk, she surmised. It would do. They could hide here. They could wait there until it was over.

Cara nodded her consent. Kahlan grinned.

That was exactly thirty-two days ago.

It happened while Cara was hunting.

The doe was blissfully unaware of her predator, grazing to her heart's content. Cara watched from a distance, in a low crouch. Something larger would be better, but meat was meat. She hadn't seen many animals at all, lately, which was mildly disconcerting. The doe's ear twitched, but it continued munching, and Cara rose from her position. Her sharp gaze followed its every moment. Everything depended on the first strike. She would strike to kill. The noise of the forest melted, giving way to an amplified version of her heartbeat. It was calm, regular, and she drew a breath, furrowing her brow in utmost focus.

Normally, she would have used the bow Richard had given her. But her supply of arrows had been spent – she needed time to clean and repair them. Her Agiels would do, for now, even though it wasn't the neatest way of getting the job done. Still, it was just that: getting the job done.

Just like she had done countless times before, she reached for her hip and grasped the handles in tight fists.

A jolt of surprise, one that froze her blood, made her jerk her hands back with urgency. Her eyes widened, breath quickened. A moment of absolute stillness passed. Slowly, almost regretfully, she freed one from its holder, gripping it for all she was worth.

There was no sting, no burn, no shock to her system. No pain thundered its way up her arms and spread through her body. There was nothing to fuel the fire inside of her and give her purpose.

Immediately, the problem materialized in her mind. This had happened before. Logical calculation gave way to a cold blast of numb shock.

The magic had stopped working.

All of the reassurances and determination of the past months suddenly fell to nothing.

The Agiel slipped from her fingers. The strap, unimpeded by her wrist, floated gently as the weapon fell. The sound it made when it hit the leave-smattered ground should have been much louder.

The doe sensed the disturbance and bolted to invisibility.

It would be easy enough to pretend they were still working.

She would remember to tense her arms, to squint slightly, and to let her upper lip flinch the instant when she first grasped them. All of this was second-nature, something years and years had taught and reinforced. The habit would not break without difficulty. She would still feel the sear and scorch in her muscles as she pulled the pain from her memory. She would convince herself that it was real. Her body would react as it always had. The Agiels would not, she knew. They were blunt weapons now, hard sheaths of leather.

She would fix her arrows, or find some way to get more, and make sure to take the bow hunting every time. Maybe she would even take one of Kahlan's daggers.

She would put on a mask and allow life to continue as it had been. She would fight against the sudden, unwelcome hollowness, pushing it so far below that it would never show on her face.

There was one thing she would not do, however. She would not tell Kahlan that the bloodline that fueled her magic had been extinguished.

She would not tell Kahlan that somewhere, somehow, Richard was dead.

The absurdity of it nearly made her laugh. The fears were always there, but always just out of reach. Blind hope (considered foolish, but comforting, by Cara) kept them at bay. But it really happened.

The thought of hiding it from Kahlan made her stomach roil. She bit back the unpleasant feeling, forgetting to breathe for a moment. The wayward pine appeared in the distance, and her knees almost buckled.

Richard meant what he said. Take care of her. Keep her safe, at all costs. Safe from what, though? Banelings? Wolves? Herself? All of them.

She had no way of knowing what Kahlan might do in agonized desperation and distress, if she told her. This was keeping her safe. Safe from the knowledge that would break her resolve, exhaust her will to stay alive, even though the entire realm of the living depended upon just that. Cara was responsible for her, and if that secret was the burden she would have to carry, so be it. It was an impossible load, but she had given her oath. She was charged to protect Kahlan from everything that threatened her, tangible or intangible, flesh or feeling.

When she finally reached the small fire Kahlan had apparently built while she was on the hunt, the Mother Confessor smiled cheerily at her and called a greeting, eyes and hair gleaming in shafts of sunlight that penetrated the trees. Cara faltered for the quickest instant, shaken by Kahlan's happiness. If she told her, that smile might never surface again.

Her duty accounted for the bulk of her decision.

But a chill ran down her spine, one she couldn't blame on the brisk air. It quickly transformed into a surge of anger, of disgust – an automatic reaction to the note of dread that had swept through first.

She also did not want to be the one to tell Kahlan something that would shatter her heart into innumerable pieces, tiny fragments, rendering it useless, beyond any kind of repair.

Days passed. How many, she wasn't entirely sure. She kept the secret from Kahlan.

Cara decided to go to the village for two reasons.

One, for supplies. She told Kahlan she needed more arrows and more string for her bow. She would also see if she could pick up any rations – grain, fruits, vegetables, anything they couldn't forage from the area around their wayward pine. It was a good ruse; Kahlan nodded enthusiastically, saying that it was a great idea. She would stay and watch the camp. They hadn't seen a single person since they arrived. She could handle herself for a day.

Though Cara felt dubious about leaving her there alone, she was thankful for Kahlan's cooperation. Because the true reason she wanted to head into the town was that curiosity had finally gotten the best of her. She had to know for sure if anyone else was aware of what had happened to Richard. Though her Agiels gave her all the proof she could have asked for, she needed to hear it from someone else.

She borrowed Kahlan's traveling dress, not willing to risk having her leather recognized. It was long in the hem, dragging on the ground when she walked, but it would do. She kept her Agiels hidden beneath, pressed against bare flesh. The pain she felt at the contact was merely a phantom, but it made her shudder more violently than the true pain would have. She took one of Kahlan's knives as well, under the guise that she would have it sharpened at the blacksmith. A few days later and she would do the same for the other. Again, Kahlan was obliging. Almost too obliging. It made Cara a little bit sick. The weight of the secret pressed against her shoulders, nearly a physical force. Richard is dead. Her mind screamed it, but her mouth remained silent and tight.

It was early morning and foggy when she set out. The air was turning colder and colder with each passing day. She pulled up the hood of Kahlan's dress and pressed onward. Her Agiels felt like ice against her warm skin.

The trip to the town was longer than she thought – she didn't reach its limits until late afternoon. A lone sentry kept guard; the town was small and unimportant, so much that Cara didn't even know the name of it. But the name wasn't important. Getting inside and getting information was.

The sentry saw that she as alone. He also caught the slightest glimpse of full lips and blonde hair. He let her pass without trouble.

What she found beyond the walls chilled her to the core.

This time of day should have brought with it crowded streets and the rumble of conversation. People bumping into one another and excusing themselves. Street performers tricking crowds. Merchants lined up with their wares, trying their very hardest to outdo one another.

Instead, there was absolutely nothing. The streets were as bare as a bleached bone, with no pulse or bustle. Cara strained to hear, something, anything, but there was nothing to hear. Silence hummed and hung over the buildings. To anyone else, it would have been downright terrifying. It felt like she was the last person left alive.

The shop she was looking for was halfway down the main drag. Cara saw the sign and headed for it, moving with a purpose. When she pushed on the door, it opened, and she let out a tiny exhalation of relief. Empty, but open. Besides the shopkeeper, distractedly arranging jars on the shelving behind him, the only sign of movement was the dust floating in red-sunset beams from the windows.

She stepped across the threshold, not bothering to remove her hood, raising an expectant eyebrow at the person behind the wooden counter. He was a portly man with unruly silver hair, scruffy eyebrows, and a moustache to match. Wide green eyes stared at her, mouth hanging slightly agape, as if her presence didn't make any sort of sense. She crossed her arms, cleared her throat, and he sprang back to life.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, shaking his head to clear it. "Yes, yes, how can I help you?" His voice was overly-exuberant, as if he hadn't had an excuse to use it in a log while. He smiled, revealing crooked teeth. Cara inclined her chin, peering at him with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

"I need supplies."

"Well, you've come to the right place!" His grin brightened as he puffed out his chest proudly. Cara's brow wrinkled further, growing impatient. "What exactly are you looking for?"

"Arrows and bowstring," she replied quickly, and he nodded vigorously, not stopping to wonder why a woman would be in need of such items.

"Wonderful! What kind?" Cara showed him the correct type. He nodded, even more eagerly than the first time, and Cara thought his head might flop off of his body. She remained silent as he began to wrap her purchases, but that would simply not do for him, she learned. "I haven't seen you around here before," the shopkeeper remarked jovially, keen for conversation. Cara stared, deadpan.

"You haven't." A statement of fact. His enthusiasm faltered, but only for a second.

"Welcome, then. My name's Robert." He turned back to the counter, holding her bundled arrows and string. He looked at her, waiting for the introduction to be returned. Of course, he didn't get one from Cara. Coolly collected in her voice, she asked what she had wanted to since she set foot into the village.

"What happened here?" She placed a hand on her hip. "Why is there nobody outside?"

Robert deflated almost visibly, moustache squirming above his lips. This obviously not something he was looking to discuss. It was better than nothing, he supposed, sighing and running a hand through his already-tousled hair.

"Everyone's afraid," he said simply. When Cara narrowed her eyes in confusion, he continued, dropping his voice. "Banelings have been laying waste to villages around here." Cara steeled her jaw. "Rumor has it that they're within two towns of us. Everyone in the village is scared stiff."

He made a broad sweep with his hand, gesturing to the outside. "So many have packed their things and fled. Those who haven't spend their days locked in their homes, praying to the Creator to protect them." He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose with thick fingers. "My customers don't come around anymore. You're the first one in, oh, three days, I'd say."

Banelings were nearby. Good information to know. But not what she came looking for. Cara would have to continue the conversation, no matter how insufferably cheerful this man was.

"I see," she said, nodding once. "I'm sorry."

Robert's cheeks tinged and he shrugged. "Well, you know, it's alright. I'm content with my work, customers or not." He roared with sudden laughter, and it surprised Cara before she forced a dry laugh herself. When he calmed himself down, he cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you need today, miss? Food, drink…?"

Cara said it before she realized she was going to. "Apples." They were Kahlan's favorite. "Do you have any apples?"

Robert beamed and gave her a sign of affirmation. "Yes! I have delicious apples, fresh and sweet, a shipment received just yesterday." He bent over to retrieve the crate, brushing his hands on his oversized tunic. "Before, they would have all been gone within hours. Not now, though." He picked out six of the best for her, proudly letting her see how shiny the skins were as he packed them into a parcel.

Cara interrupted his very lengthy verbal train of thought, holding up a hand and closing her eyes. "If banelings are coming and you haven't been making any business, why haven't you left?" She punctuated it with a one-eyed squint, indicating something that wasn't disdain, but came dangerously close. The words were blunt, and she knew that. She wouldn't have asked if it wasn't absurd. This man was overstocked with everything, losing money like a waterfall.

For the first time, he sobered.

"My shop is my life," he told her with a tiny, somber smile. "I built her up from nothing. I couldn't bear the thought of her being destroyed without me here. As if stands now, I'm all she's got, and she's all I've got. I'm sticking with her to the bitter end." He patted the wooden countertop as though the building could feel and appreciate the show of affection.

And somehow, in a state of affairs completely bewildering to her, Cara unexpectedly understood exactly what he meant.

Warmth trickled over her, invigorating her skin, hitching her breath. Her chest swelled with purpose. An image flashed in her mind, of the woman waiting for her in the wayward pine. It dizzied her for a moment, and she blinked it away to regain her bearings. A hollow sadness replaced the burning in her chest when the picture was gone, but only for an instant. The feeling was gone, back to wherever it came from.

When Cara went to pay, Robert took only half of the coins she placed on the counter, pushing the rest back to her. "Discounted price for my prized customer," he stated with a playful smile.

"Please, let me pay." That was what Richard would have said. She considered it best to say it as well.

Robert shook his head just as vehemently as he had been nodding it before. "I'll waive the rest of the fee in place of the conversation you've given me. It's gotten lonely."

She dropped it, then, realizing that he would not take no for an answer.

Gathering her packages in her arms and placing the arrows in her pack, she closed her eyes and breathed in deep. It was now or never. She opened her mouth and let the words flow. They came out stiffly, more formal and rehearsed that she would have hoped.

"Thank you for everything. I truly hope the Seeker can do his job before the banelings reach your village."

Robert's eyes widening under busy eyebrows told Cara that he knew something she didn't. Or, at least, hadn't yet heard from another person. A mixture of incredulity and pity lit his gaze as he gaped at her.

"Haven't you heard the rumors?" he asked in a hushed voice, leaning toward, rounding his shoulders. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she shook her head. Robert's jaw went taut and his eyes drooped sympathetically, knowing that what he was about to tell her would crush her hope (along with a bit more of his).

It was barely a whisper by the time it left his mouth.

"The man who brought these apples also brought news he heard on his journey here." His mouth moved wordlessly while he tried to shove the words out. He was still getting used to the idea as well. "The Seeker is dead."

Cara feigned devastated shock better than she ever imagined she could have.

She didn't return to their shelter until very late that night. In the dark, she had gotten turned around. All of the trees looked the same when she was distracted by the thoughts swirling in her head. Disorienting proof. Others had heard as well. Richard was dead. At any moment, the world could have torn apart at the seams. It followed her like an extra shadow, closing the gap, threatening to swallow her. She would just have to make sure it never got the chance.

She traveled for half an hour in the wrong direction before she noticed. Cursing herself, she set her bearings once again, hating all of this.

Along the way, her stomach began to growl, and she finally realized how hungry she was. She hadn't eaten since the morning. Having seen no creatures to hunt, she was forced to open the package that contained the apples and eat one. She grimaced on the first bite – she never was fond of the taste. Meat would have been better.

One didn't satisfy her, so she ate another, promising to leave the other four for Kahlan. The food sat like a rock in her stomach as she continued to hike, legs moving numbly. It was long before she could focus simply on where she was going and not what she had learned.

When she finally reached the wayward pine, she was properly exhausted, though she would admit it to nobody. She peered into the entrance and let out a feeble sigh at what she saw. Kahlan was fast asleep, curled on her side toward the wall created by the branches. Her lips were parted, and her chest rose and fell with the steady pattern of peaceful slumber. Cara watched her breathe for a few moments and was briefly comforted by the motion. It was nearly hypnotic. Up and down. Brilliantly alive.

Cara grabbed a waterskin and drank until she thought her stomach might burst. Too worn out to be angry at Kahlan for falling asleep before she returned and too worn out to stand watch, she collapsed onto the bed roll beside Kahlan's, begrudgingly grateful that Kahlan had thought to set it out for her. They could afford a few hours of vulnerability.

The Mother Confessor's back was pressed to hers, very warm. The muscles in her legs quaked from the day's journey. It would have been wonderful to surrender to the fatigue, both physical and mental. She let her heavy eyes slip closed.

Kahlan stirred.

"Cara?" she asked after a moment, voice thick with the delirium of first waking up, wondering if this was a dream, if it had all been a dream, if they were all still together.

"Yes," she replied in a muffled murmur, not bothering to move or open her eyes. "Now go back to sleep."

"I'm sorry." Kahlan was more awake now, and delayed reality was setting in. She rolled over to face Cara, propping herself up on one elbow, rubbing her eyes. "It got late, and I couldn't help myself."

Cara held back a sigh of intense exasperation, coiling in on herself. "Kahlan," she said, forcing one eye open in aggravation. The other woman regarded her carefully. "Go back to sleep." The repeated phrase was emphasized heavily, sharply. It was so much like Cara that Kahlan had to suppress a smile.

She turned back over under her blanket, her back against Cara's once again. A soft, contented hum vibrated in her throat when she settled. The tiny noise sent a shock straight for the Mord'Sith's spine.

Sharing the warmth amplified it. It wasn't long until both were drowsy and spiraling headlong into unconsciousness. Before sleep claimed her, Kahlan reached backwards, finding Cara's hand and lightly touching it. Cara's chest swelled again, and the sensation rolled across her entire body, simultaneously prickling and calming. Kahlan held her hand in a loose grasp, asleep again within moments.

Cara, meanwhile, felt like someone had just tossed a bucket of cold water all over her. Not because Kahlan was holding her hand – it had happened a few times before, and Cara had allowed it simply to appease her. But it hadn't happened since her Agiels stopped working. Kahlan's hand in hers seemed to drag something from deep within. There was a part of her plan that she hadn't considered.

Kahlan trusted her. When she would find out what Cara was hiding from her – and she would find out, when Richard didn't return – she would never be able to forgive her for not telling her. Kahlan would hate her, forever.

This thought pervaded everything she had learned that day. It was the most frightening of all.

The guilt and fear made Kahlan's grip feel like an open flame. It gnawed at her until she was nearly squirming. But Cara simply couldn't pull away. The pain was better than nothing. It soothed her in its own twisted way.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Richard drawing the Sword of Truth, determined and unwavering as he always was, even to the point of stupidity.

Then, she saw Kahlan's face. The image lingered, piercing blue eyes and soft smile, sending emotions both familiar and foreign, cascading through her all at once. It was overload – she found that she couldn't swallow.

Though her body ached for it, she could not cling to one bit of sleep.

Cara frowned into the pot, wondering whether or not the stew should be bubbling like that. It was too think, almost altogether unyielding, as she prodded it with the spoon. Not promising. Her frown deepened into a genuine scowl. This was simple – find a deer, kill the deer, skin the deer, chop it up, start a fire, toss the meat into a pot with some vegetables and spices. And somehow, this mess resulted. She hated cooking. Luckily, Kahlan enjoyed it enough to take care of it herself. But Cara had volunteered today for reasons she couldn't exactly comprehend.

And Kahlan sat by the fire despite the unpleasant odor lifting from Cara's attempt at lunch, holding an apple that she knew would soon become her meal. Sure enough, Cara let out a frustrated sigh and sat down beside her, giving up. She gave the Mord'Sith a tight-lipped smile, arching a single dark eyebrow mischievously.

"I think you're improving," she said, her voice tinkling with hidden laughter, blue eyes bright with teasing. "Your last try ended up in flames, literally." Cara gave the Mother Confessor a half-heated sneer, rolling her eyes dramatically.

Kahlan drew her knees to her chest and held them with one arm. She brought the other hand, the one with the apple, to her mouth. When she bit into it, the taut skin snapped and crunched as her teeth sunk into the pale yellow fruit beneath. Cara couldn't help but watch, entranced, as she chewed; as she wiped away the little bit of juice that ran down her chin. She rotated the fruit in her hand and took another bite. Her lips moved over the red flesh, leaving a subtle hint of wetness. Cara fidgeted. The fire in front of them had grown too hot. Her leather made it worse. Tingling heat raced over her skin, overtaking her senses.

As Kahlan chewed this second bite, she gazed thoughtfully at the apple in her hand, furrowing her brow at the dainty bite marks. She continued to stare for a few moments, apparent introspection growing deeper and deeper as each passed. When it became uncomfortable, Cara leaned forward, tilting her head to peer into her face.

"Is the apple saying something to you?" she asked, smiling wryly, and it was the first time she didn't have to force it merely for the sake of normalcy. "Asking you to command it?"

It was Kahlan's turn to roll her eyes and give Cara a light, chiding tap on the shoulder. Cara pulled her lips to one side in something close to a smirk.

"No," Kahlan replied, though clarification was technically not necessary. "I was just thinking." She paused, considering her next words carefully, as if saying them the wrong way would tempt fate. "About Richard and Zedd. I wonder what they're doing right now."

Cara's stomach plummeted. She made sure the discomfort didn't appear on her face, not even the slightest twinge of reaction. She stared straight into the fire, even though the brightness of the flame closest to the embers distorted her vision. "Why are you wondering that?" She controlled her voice, giving it the inflection of blunt confusion. Inside, her heart was hammering. If she said the wrong thing, all of this painstaking work would have been for nothing.

It must have been convincing – typical direct Cara talking – because Kahlan just shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted, absentmindedly twisting a silky dark curl around her finger. "I just had this feeling that I should be wondering about them. They're always on my mind, of course, they have been since they left…but I never really think specifically about where they are or what they're doing." Cara scrunched her face in puzzlement, since it was what she usually would have done. Kahlan sighed with a slow shake of her head. "It's hard to explain."

"Don't," Cara offered as quick advice, raising her eyebrows sternly. "Don't wonder about them. If you wonder, you'll start to think of horrible things. You're just torturing yourself."

When, really, she was torturing Cara. Her skin crawled unnervingly, like a million little bugs' feet all over her body. The heat of the fire had turned Kahlan's cheeks pink. She focused on that instead. It was enough of a distraction. It was a reminder of all that she was working to keep.

After a minute of consideration, Kahlan spoke quite softly. "I guess you're right. It makes sense." Relief flooded. When Cara did not respond, she took another bite of her apple. The crunch was a satisfying one. After another, she slowly stood, shaking the sleep from her legs. Narrowing her eyes in contemplation, she glanced at the pot that still sat on the fire, still bubbling menacingly. "Let me see if I can salvage this. I know you don't like apples."

to be continued