Sorry I forgot to post the last couple of days. I had other things on my mind. -artemiskat

TWENTY-SIX

How many days faded into night? How many nights brightened into day? How long had it been since he'd dozed off in the chantry? Tristan reckoned at least a few days, perhaps more. He hadn't slept at all since then. Had barely even stopped walking. He felt like he was dragging chains through the snow.

The fatigue was catching up to him now. He could feel it invading his thoughts, washing over his mind like a cold, dark wave of water and seeping into the marrow of his bones. He could scarcely remember where he was going. He wasn't even sure where he was.

The road he walked was unrecognizable, if it could even be called a road. Somehow, sometime, he had wandered off the road onto a narrow path, probably used by hunters. Where was he? Where was he going? He was lost. Through the haze in his mind, he knew that to be true.

Hunger pangs pierced through his stomach, twisting it painfully. But he ignored it. How could he eat, when she would never do so again? He was stronger than the hunger. Eventually he knew in his heart that he would have to eat something to gain the vengeance he sought. For now, he let it gnaw within him, thought of it as a sort of punishment for his failure. Besides, hunger pangs were not nearly as painful as the hole in his soul.

Tristan stopped and gripped a tree for support. It was a gnarly thing, old and rotting, the bark tearing off like dried up paint as he brushed his hands against it. The limbs twisted upwards and outwards and over each other. Yet somehow, the tree was still sturdy. As he looked up into it, he caught the silhouette of a raven against the darkening sky. It turned its head at the scraping noise his hand made and Tristan felt as if it looked right at him with its beady little eyes. Its beak opened and it cawed once, flapped its wings, and then flew away into the sparse forest beyond.

Following the large bird's flight, shivering at the strangeness of it, Tristan caught a glimpse of something else. Something entirely unexpected.

"Brenna!" he called out at the apparition. She stood among the sparse grove of trees. Her back was toward him, but he recognized her hair, as black as the raven's feathers, and the way she stood, with her weight on her left foot and her right hand on her hip. He'd seen that many times. But how could this be? He blinked and still she remained. Shouldn't she glow, if she was a ghost?

Tristan pushed himself off of the tree and stumbled forward. The apparition fled forward through the sparse grove of trees. Her hair flittered in the sudden gust of wind. The white fur cloak she wore flapped behind her like a banner as she stepped gingerly around the trees.

"Brenna, wait!" Tristan yelled. He reached out a hand in supplication, as if that would make the apparition stop. "Don't go! Please come back!"

He followed her through the landscape, calling out her name so many times, begging her to stop. He nearly tripped a few times in his desperation to catch her. He couldn't believe she was running away from him. He couldn't believe how many times he said her name. It felt strange on his tongue after so long holding it within. His heart pounded furiously, his breath was not easy in coming, and his legs grew ever so heavy to lift. But he didn't stop. He could not stop.

"Brenna!"

Tristan tripped and fell into a clearing, the hard crust of the snow breaking his fall. When he looked up, he saw the apparition standing before him, her back still to him. He saw, also, that there were no footsteps in the snow but his own. All that mattered to him, however, was that she had finally stopped.

"Don't leave." He gulped in the cold air around him before picking himself up off the ground. The pounding of his heart was loud to his ears. The wind stopped completely. He walked slowly toward the apparition, fearful of making her flee again. He reached his hand out.

"Stand back, Tristan."

He froze. His hand wavered in the air shakily. It was her. It was the smooth, sweet tone of her voice. He wanted to touch her, to make it real. But he knew one wrong move and she would flee again before he had the chance to talk to her. To see her face again.

"Brenna." He returned his hand to his side. He choked back a sob. There was no time for crying. He needed to get it all out before she decided to leave. "I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you. I should have stopped them. I failed you."

"It was my time."

"No!" he shook his head angrily. "There is no such thing as destiny. I caused your death. I need to make it right."

"It is already right and as it should be."

He didn't like what she was saying. Nothing was as it should be. How could she believe that? How could she try and make him believe that? "I will make them pay, I swear it to you here and now. I will not fail in this. I will devote the rest of my life if needs be. I will give my life if needs be."

"You need to let go, Tristan."

"Why? I love you. Let me see your face again. It will give me strength."

"It will not."

"Please, Brenna." His voice cracked with emotion.

"I am dead and gone. You must let go."

"But you're here. Let me see your face again. Let me touch you. One last time, please."

The apparition turned around slowly, hesitation in her soundless steps. The breath caught in Tristan's throat at what he saw. Her eyes were dull, sad things, no longer so vivid and green. Her skin was paler than it had ever been, but marked with ghoulish decay. Her lips were almost colorless and cracked, nothing like they used to be. But worst of all, the thing that made him recoil back in fear, in shame, was the deep, crimson gash across her neck.

Tristan fell to his knees and collapsed forward onto his forehead. The tears came out then, melding into the snow in front of his face.

"Brenna, I'm sorry… I'm sorry. I would trade places with you in a heartbeat. You don't deserve this. It should be me. I deserve to be dead, standing where you are. I'm sorry."

The apparition said nothing. His body shook and when he found the strength to look up, she was gone, like she had been a figment of his imagination all along. He felt like he had before she came back into his life – empty and without purpose. The place she had taken up in his soul was empty again. It shouldn't be that way, but her death had sucked it dry. How deep is this hole I feel? I never knew I could miss someone so much…

The darkness grew around him. He wanted to give up. How could he go on without her? He promised her vengeance, but she tossed it back at him. Even if he could give it to her, what would he do afterwards, in the unlikely event that he didn't die in the process? All he wanted to do was find his way back to her.

Just give in, his mind whispered.

There was movement in the shadows. There was a faint crunching sound in the snow around him. There was more than that. Tristan saw the glowing eyes before he saw the bared fangs in his direction.

Wolves.

They paced around him, their paws leveling the snow, smoothing the hard upper crust to a powder. It seemed they were real. One wolf nipped at his arm. He jerked away in time. But that one brave wolf got the whole pack started. Soon enough, a flurry of fur, fangs, and snapping jaws had him turning in circles. He didn't even have time to reach for his sword. A part of him, however, didn't want to.

Let them tear you apart, his mind commanded him. It's only what you deserve.

Another, instinctive part of himself gathered mana from somewhere deep inside. A wolf took a swipe at his arm, the claws cutting through clothing but not reaching skin. His body had done what his mind told him not to – it fought back. Another wolf growled, came toward him hunched, hungry and rabid. Tristan found his hands glowing orange, shaking with power.

I want to give up…

The wolves backed away slightly at the sight of his glowing fists. They didn't understand what it was. Was it fire? Was it light? Tristan himself didn't know. He saw them clearly now. They were indeed hungry and desperate. Their bodies were thin, their winter coats patchy. They reminded him a little of himself.

Tristan laughed. He thought if anyone were to hear that, it would sound like the laugh of a madman. Perhaps he was mad. The wolves watched him warily until the laughter stopped. Then one pounced towards him, and the maelstrom was released.

The orange glow burned out of his hands, erupting into a circle of fire around him. The wolves scattered, howling in pain as the flames reached them. They ran off into the darkness if they were not burning. The ones on fire rolled around, putting the fire out, and then darted away, whimpering, tails between their legs, giving up their prize.

The fire burned around him. He was alone. His fists were normal again, but the release of so much power had weakened him. It had pained him.

The wolves may not tear me to pieces… but I think I have done so to myself… I am done…

He was cold, so very cold. And tired. Something cracked beneath him. He realized he was at the edge of a creek, if not in the middle of it. The fire would burn itself out, but it would crack the ice beneath him and he would fall through into the frigid waters and drown, for he had no strength to claw his way back from the abyss, even if he wanted to.

The ice moaned beneath the snow. He felt it shift. He heard the cracking. He waited, and waited, unable to move, unable to summon up mana for anything, until finally, the fire burned itself out. The last thing he saw before it went dark was a rush of water a handbreadth away.

So be it. If he was to be a failure, let it be. He felt for Brenna's pouch beneath his tunic and squeezed his hand around it. He closed his eyes and waited for death's cold hands to encircle him and take him away. He was already so cold, how much worse could death be?

Strangely enough, Arn's words dashed through his mind. May your body be a feast for wolves, Warden-Commander. He laughed quietly as he realized that might be the case after all, for surely the wolves would smell his death, and nothing would stop their noses from seeking him out again.

With a smile on his face, total darkness engulfed him.