Lying on her back, Yfandena realized she was staring at the ceiling of a tent, yet again. It had been a week since Yfandena had been disgraced. She still remembered that morning vividly. Just as she had woken up from her faint, a whole gaggle of women had rushed into the tent and stripped the sheets from the bed, leaving her shivering in Estien's arms. Estien had whispered something into her ear, she had been too dazed to understand what, and left her in the hands of more women.

Later, she had screamed, moaned, and cried. But nothing had worked. Her mother came in and had, in fact, told her rather sharply that she would, for once, stop her childish behavior and accept her marriage. When Dena tried to tell her mother exactly what had occurred, her mother had simply told her in a tight, quiet voice that it was not appropriate to discuss such things. She hadn't been allowed to even see her father.

Yfandena had been heart-broken. All her life, people had done exactly what she wanted them too. They had cosseted her, adored her. Now, her own mother wouldn't even listen to her. In fact, everyone seemed to ignore her: everyone except those wretched Valemarens. They kept on with their pretenses of kindness. Fake kindness, she was sure, just like the noble children used to act around her. Even Estien kept up his good manners the few times that she had seen him. Of course none of it fooled her: she had already exposed him for the monster he truly was. Not that she had ever confronted him directly. Something about the way he moved warned Dena that he could be a very dangerous man. She was scared. After all, look what that rogue had done already!

So, after the first couple days, Yfandena did what she always did when she could not get her way. She sat in her tent and fumed. She read stories and songs, and plotted strange twisted plans for vengeance. And before she knew it, a week had passed. The feasting concluded and many lords left for their homes. The royal families were also to leave shortly: over the next day to be exact. Her parents would leave with the setting sun, symbolizing their loss of a daughter. She and Estien would leave with the dawning sun to capture their new beginning.

Yfandena felt desperate, scared, and completely unlike herself. She even contemplated suicide, only the taking of life had seemed much too...well, wrong!

*Haven. If only it truly was,* she thought as she closed her eyes. The sunset ceremony of departure would start soon. She could feel the cooler evening air slipping through despite the tent's heavy fabric. She would be saying good-bye to her parents for the first time, perhaps forever. Yfandena felt tears stream unbidden down her cheeks, the hot rivulets pooling beneath her neck and collar. A fresh wave of despair clutched at her heart. Not only would she be in a horrible situation, she would be in it completely alone. Perhaps suicide wasn't such a bad idea after all...

Wiping her tears away with the back of her hand, Yfandena swung her feet off the bed and onto the floor. Death was wrong, but surely not when living was so much worse. She would find something sharp and plunge it into her heart. All the star-crossed lovers in her ballads did something of the sort. It seemed to be, after all, the fastest way to go: a new sort of courage welled-up inside Dena as she searched for an appropriately jagged object.

*Maybe there's something behind that chest in the corner* she thought, as she gazed at the shadowy recesses behind the huge bureau. With her head turned to one side, she stretched her right arm into the darkness.

Suddenly, she felt something furry...and curiously warm.

:. Well of course I'm warm. I can't very well be cold AND alive. .: came an amused voice in her mind.

"Wha..?" Yfandena exclaimed, hitting her head on the chest in shock.

:. Not "Wha," but Solara. My name is Solara, and I am a firecat. .: