A/N: Yikes, guys. Thanks for sticking with me. Please see my note at the end for another long ramble, which may or may not answer some questions you have.

Chapter 31

They woke together in a tangled pile of limbs, her head on his chest and his hands on her back. She felt his breath on her hair, steady and warm as it moved between his parted lips, sending wispy strands to tickle her cheek and her chin. She shifted as she stirred, brushing a clumsy hand over her face to wash away the cobwebs, and when her arm fell to his stomach, lazy and quick, she saw his eyes snap open with a sudden and palpable wonder.

They did not move from their places, though their bodies were stiff and sore. They did not rise from their bed, though their eyes were wide and wakeful. They did not speak, and they did not sigh, and they did not move so much as a muscle on their bones as they watched each other, green eyes fixed on hazel, white cheeks juxtaposed by tanned and freckled brown.

Her eyes, he saw, were red and raw. Tracks from salty tears had carved a path from her lashes to her chin, draining her cheeks of their usual pink flush. Dark circles eroded the pallor beneath her eyes and made them look deeper and more weary, as if she had been pulled from the very depths of sleep by a sudden and turbulent dream. He watched her openly, as he'd never dared to do before, and he noted with gladness that she watched him, too. He studied her, taking in the point of her chin and the curve of her jaw with a new and profound familiarity that had been never been explored before.

She was beautiful to him. Her face was a map—she wore her joys and sorrows like paths of stone, etched on her by a master craftsman. He saw her twinkles and her shadows, plain as writing on a page as she brought her cracked lip between her teeth which glistened like pearls in their overwhelming whiteness. Every line of her was slender, as fine and delicate as hand-tatted lace, and he longed to run his fingers over them to feel her facets and grooves beneath her soft, silken exterior. Her hand, still twined with his, felt warm between his fingers and he touched the smoothness of her palm with the calloused pad of his thumb, marvelling at the sheer softness of her skin. She did not move as his fingers roved over hers, and she kept her big, marvellous eyes glued to him, a serene expression of curious interest warring with the tiredness on her face.

The world was quiet here, he thought, and he was overjoyed to have her near.

"Have you any idea how glad I am?" he queried gently and she blinked with a start, as if his words had jolted her from some unknown, waking dream. She squirmed against his chest, settling only once her head lay sweetly on his shoulder.

"What for?" she asked, her voice rough and low. He shivered at the sound. "What makes you glad?"

"You do," said Edward at once. "You make me happy. Your safe return is a blessing, and I've been thanking the Gods every moment I'm able."

Her face turned a brilliant scarlet and she turned away, tucking her head beneath his chin with a sniffle. Edward schooled his face into seriousness before she saw him grin, mastering himself to keep his sudden mirth a secret. Somehow, he believed that she would not appreciate it as he did. She wormed her way further beneath the sheets and blankets until they came up to her neck, and she fell still and quiet with her nose pressed to his throat.

He could feel her hiccupping breaths against his clavicle, tickling and soft. His hand rose unbidden and rested itself on her hair, smoothing back the soft tendrils that had fallen by her temple. She closed her eyes with a flutter, shifting when his fingers began to comb, and she arched herself like a cat when his other hand began to trace patterns on her back, feeling every curve and divot of her spine. She was still skinny—far too skinny—and she'd lost even more weight during her ordeal in the jungle. Carlisle would see to that, Edward knew, and she was not in any immediate danger, but it unsettled him when he realized just how tiny she really was—how small, and breakable, and unbelievably weak.

When she lifted her head again, he saw the strain in her neck.

"Lay back," he ordered at once, and she brought her head back down without complaint. "You look clean worn out, Bella."

She snorted, shifting her body off of his chest. He lamented her loss at once, feeling the chamber's chill replacing her warmth, but she settled comfortably back on her pillow, her face turned towards his.

"If you're saying I look like death, then you'd be right," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I don't need it pointed out to me, thank you very much…"

"I'd never say anything of the sort." He took her hand again and she did not complain. "I only speak at all because I'm worried for you."

Curiously, she cocked her head to the side. Edward said nothing, falling into another silence, but their peace did not last long before Bella spoke again. A flicker of fear passed over her face in a flash that Edward was quick enough to catch, and she held it there, in precarious motions of her eyes and lips, which became dark, and tearful, and downturned.

"You've nothing to fear from me," said Edward gently. She shook her head at once. "Nothing at all, Bella. I speak out of nothing more than concern. I hope you know that."

"I'm not scared," she said at once. A flash of stubbornness, tinged with the slightest bit of resilience, shot through her and with a prideful shake of her head she dismissed it at once. "I'm just…"

He waited, quiet and patient.

"…exhausted," she finished lamely. "I'm so bone-achingly tired, Edward, and I can hardly fathom why."

"You've had a shock," he reasoned. "A great and terrible shock, really… and your body has not yet healed. You yet bear the scars from your first brush with danger…"

Her wrist, swollen and purple, was hot beneath his fingers.

"That's new," she corrected. She pulled it away from him, holding it out before them like a specimen to be studied, and even with the curtains closed and the fire low, he could see the violent hues of dusky blue. The swelling ran from her elbow down to the middle of her fingers, which were hooked like claws to ease the stretch of her skin. Boro had wrapped it properly—Edward could see the crisscross of linen bandages around the broken bone, splinting it to keep it true, but still, he thought it must have hurt her. It was the same wrist she'd broken before when she'd washed up on Little Beach. Even at Terosankta it had bothered her still, weeks after the original injury. Edward suspected now that it would bother her always—broken bones were like that sometimes. If the injury was too great or if it was left untended for too long, sometimes it did not knit properly and would be aching and sore until its owner was aged and grey.

"Does it hurt?" he asked gently. Her arm shook with the strain of keeping it held aloft and he lowered it gently to the bed, letting her tuck it securely at her hip. She watched him with careful consideration, shrugging her shoulder to her ear.

"No more than normal," she replied. "It's been sore ever since the first time."

She tucked it deep beneath the covers.

"Carlisle will tend to it," promised Edward. "Is there anything else that hurts?"

She grimaced and turned away. The disgust on her face might have been comical had Edward not been so deadly serious. He wanted to know her aches—wanted to soothe them and bring her peace—and when she did not respond, simply fixing her stare at the trusses on the ceiling, he grew anxious and worried.

"If you're not well, Bella, you must say so," he said at once. She peeked at him from the corner of her eye. "It will do you no good to hide it."

"I'll be fine," she quipped. "Don't worry too much about me."

He would always worry about her, he thought, though he kept that musing to himself. How could he not?

"Are you hurting?" he asked again, leaning up on his elbow. She surveyed him quietly, her lips pressed together in an immovable line, but when his attention did not waver and his stubbornness set in, he saw her body deflate and she sank deeply into the thick feather mattress.

"Nothing worth telling," she said finally. "My wrist, of course, is sore, and my feet…"

Edward recalled the angry blisters he'd seen on her toes and frowned, glancing down at her curled legs beneath the blankets. She shifted them uncomfortably and his eyes snapped away at once, suddenly aware that his stare might not only be unseemly and boorish, but absolutely unwelcome.

He glanced instead to her throat, which was still wrapped in white, clean linen. The wound had not wept like it had the night before and was not so wet and red, but there was a fine, pink line seeping up from the very core of it. She reached her fingers to it when she saw him looking and grimaced, her hands snapping away from the wetness at once.

"It's not sore," she said quietly. "Not like I thought it would be."

"It's a foul wound, and that's a fact." He felt a bubble of anger in his throat. "I saw it last night, while you rested."

"I…" Her cheeks went pink again and he saw her hesitate, her lip disappearing once more between her teeth. She looked away from him, staring off into some unknown space on the wall and he did not press her, waiting in patient silence until she continued.

"I thought he might actually do it, you know." She drew the covers up to cover her chin. "I thought he might cut my neck clean through."

A terrible pity, both searing and icy, shot through him. Like a trickle of oil that touched the merest breath of flame, he felt it flare and roar in a raging inferno, making his ears ring and his face go hard. He saw her worry—saw how her face contorted and fell when she looked upon it plainly—but he could not call it back. He could not pack it away again in its nice, neat box, and so he let it burn, fire and ice colliding in violent enemy battle. She moved to turn away from him, to slide her body further and further until she could slip off the bed entirely and he felt his hand reach out, quick and soft, to hold her still.

"I'm sorry, Bella," he said at once, and when she did not fight to free herself, he felt some of the flames in his chest doused. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"You didn't." She wiggled her arm free, setting it back on the mattress without meeting his eye. "I'm not scared."

"What are you, then?"

"I'm…" She shook her head as if to clear it, but the motion evidently caused her some discomfort. She clenched her eyes shut against a sudden flare of pain and he held absolutely, perfectly still, waiting for the moment when she would look at him again.

"I'm tired," she said finally. "I'm so tired, Edward, and I can't even think straight."

"Do you want to sleep again?"

She shook her head at once.

"No," she said firmly. "No, I don't. I've slept enough to carry me through next week."

"Not quite so much," he returned with a chuckle. "It's only now just approaching dinner hour."

She sat up quickly, her face stark with astonishment.

"It's so late?" she asked, wiggling her legs over the edge of the mattress. "How long have I been here?"

"Easy, Bella…" He pulled her back to bed and she came with great resistance, finally flopping back against the cushions once she realized that her feet were in no shape to hold any weight. "You've been back not even a full day. You arrived last night, just around midnight."

"And I slept the whole day?" Her eyes bugged out. "It's what… almost sunset?"

"Some hours yet," he soothed. "The shadows only start to grow long…"

"Have you slept?" she demanded, suddenly nervous. He watched her eyes flicker down his body, lingering painfully on the scratch at his arm. "Christ, Edward… I'm in your bed."

He did not recognize the curse but understood its meaning well enough. He shook his head to dispel her embarrassment but it did not soothe her and she became suddenly shy, her eyes fixed flinchingly on the sheets.

"You were brought here because it was the best place for you," he said. "I don't mind… not one bit."

Her eyes flashed with sudden suspicion and she surveyed him coolly, as if she might be able to catch him in a lie.

"Where did you sleep, then?" she demanded. "If I'm here, where did you spend the night?"

"I spent the night atop Magnus, riding through the fields," he quipped with a laugh. "We ran quite quickly to return home, and I was overjoyed to find you just as you were, asleep and at rest."

"Why were you out so late at night?" she asked. Confusion warred with inquiry and she studied him with surreptitious curiosity. He blinked at her, surprised by the question, but answered it as honestly as he could.

"I was looking for you," he explained. "Jasper was out with the men and he sent me a very disturbing note…"

She said nothing at all, the wrinkle between her brows deepening by the second.

"He told me of a body," explained Edward. "He wrote to tell me they'd found a corpse in the jungle. No one had heard anything of or from you for nigh on a week, and we were beginning to fear the worst. He did not explain, and didn't offer any kind of elaboration and so I knew I had to go, though Carlisle would have forbidden it in an instant if he'd had any belief that I might be inclined to listen."

"Jasper?" She sat up clumsily, the blankets falling away at her waist. "Why was Jasper out in the west?"

"Searching." The word made him proud and frightened in equal measure. "He wanted to help, and I was otherwise indisposed…"

Her gaze flickered to the wound again though she said nothing, biting her tongue as she waited for him to conclude.

"I went out at once, as soon as I had the note in my hand," he went on. "I prayed the whole way that it would not be your body that we found, but I held a terrible, angry fear that it was. Imagine my relief when it was only a man."

Edward knew at once that Bella understood when her face turned a ghastly grey. She looked ready to faint or be sick—which, Edward did not know—and he brushed his fingers over the apple of her cheek, feeling a sudden cool clamminess that made him worry.

"Hush, sweetheart…" The endearment made her hiccup. "Don't worry, Bella. I know all about it…"

"He did this." She brought her hands to her throat. "He… cut me."

"I know…"

"He…" Tears welled in her big, limpid eyes and he pulled her close again, feeling her breath at his neck. She did not pull back, pressing her nose into the crook of his shoulder, taking deep, soothing breaths to calm herself.

"He… tried to grab me," she said, muffled and soft. "He tried to…"

Fury rose like a snake and Edward jerked away at once, taking her bewildered face in his hands to look her in the eye.

"Did he touch you, Bella?" The thought made him feel violently ill. "Did that cretin… assault you?"

He felt her head shake at once, her eyes suddenly wide with realization. He saw the anxious truth in her face—in the brightness of her gaze, the steadiness of her stare—and relief like a wave washed over him, cool and soothing, until he felt his spine relax and his hands, gripping her cheeks with fervor, loosen. He brought his lips to her forehead in complete and utter relief, allowing himself to linger there for a long, pregnant pause before he pulled away again, letting her rest her cheek against his shirt.

"I'm sorry," he said at once, feeling the shaking in her limbs. "I'm sorry to demand it so rudely, but you know, Bella…"

She stilled, her eyes wide and alert.

"I don't think I could have borne it if he had," he said. "I don't think I could have ever forgiven him."

She shivered uncomfortably and he fell still again, letting her gather herself without interruption.

"He didn't," she assured him finally. "Though I don't doubt that he would have, if he'd had the chance. But…"

Her face went lax and she blinked. Edward watched this shift with mild concern, but waited for her to speak before he questioned it.

"I arrived with a woman," she said, a sudden urgency making her tremble. "I arrived with a friend, Edward, and her son…"

"Hush, do not fret." The palms of his hands, splayed across her back, began a soothing motion that made her still. "Your friend is well. I've spoken to her myself and know all about her part in your… adventure."

She stared up at him, pulling back slightly to look him full in the face.

"Did she tell you…?"

"I know everything." Her face froze in surprise. "I know who she is and why she's come, and how she came to be here with you, and what she was forced to do to keep the three of you safe, when the enemy came running."

Her shoulders sagged with abject relief.

"So you know that…"

"I know that she stabbed that man," said Edward gently. "I know that she killed him. And I also know that if she hadn't, that man would have killed you, and taken her and her child back to an abusive, hateful enemy of my people. Your friend is safe, Bella. She is well cared for."

"Emmett arrested her."

"Emmett did exactly what he had to," Edward soothed. "Her freedom was not his to give, and granting her asylum was not his choice to make."

Her eyes fluttered closed again in a pinch and he continued on, hoping his words would bring her peace.

"Rosalie spoke her truth to me just this morning, and I've decided to rule in her favour. We have laws here, Bella, to dictate our choices at times just like these. Her crime has been forgiven, for it is no true crime under such threat and duress. The rest comes easy—she seeks safety and asylum, and has renounced her claims on the West and its people. She has renounced her position and whatever meagre privilege it gave her, and she has renounced her husband, who was cruel to her and a brute to his son. She is, for all intents and purposes, a citizen of the realm, and once tonight's council is concluded, we will know exactly where she should go, and when."

"Go?" Bella blinked up at him with astonished sadness. "She'll have to go?"

"I expect she'll want to go, after the time she's had," he returned. "She will not be forced, of course, and there is no rush, but she has a small child already and a baby on the way. She will need a home, Bella, and we are well prepared to give her one."

"Will she leave the city?"

"If she wants to." Edward nodded carefully. "She will not be forced. Only under the most extenuating of circumstances would I ever make her leave, if she wanted to stay. She will want to work, most likely, or perhaps she will remarry. Perhaps both, I don't know. There are many women in the city who manage both husbands and jobs."

The thought made her chuckle and he relished the sound, holding on to it when she fell into a calm, ruminating silence.

"She saved my life," said Bella after a long moment of quiet. "I'd have never found my way out of that jungle without her, and I most certainly wouldn't have made it back to the castle in one piece."

"I expected as much." He felt her arms, weak and skinny though they were, tighten their grip around his waist. "And I'm very glad you did find her."

"I never want to go into the jungle again," she said with a shiver. "Fifty years would be too soon…"

They said nothing for a spell, each simply sitting in the silence of the warm afternoon. Bella did not pull herself away from him as Edward thought she might, and so he did not take his hands from her back. His soft touch seemed to soothe her, as if the careful kneading of his hands was relieving her tension bit by bit, and only when she began to wiggle uncomfortably, the knots in her back hardening with the strain of remaining bent and prone, did they lay back against the cushions again, drawing the covers up to preserve their warmth.

Their solitude lasted only a few minutes before there was a soft knock on the bedroom door and Bella was startled out of her sleepy stupor. She jumped, dislodging his hands from her back, and scrambled up in sudden apprehension, her face a mask of worry.

"It's alright…" Edward swung his legs stiffly over the edge of the mattress, rising in a long, fluid motion. She watched him go with quiet nerves. "It'll only be Carlisle coming to check on you, or perhaps Aunt Esme…"

The knocker was revealed to him the minute he cracked open the door. In a rush of skirts and a patter of hard shoes against the floor, Edward was pushed aside by his Aunt, who only had eyes for the girl in the bed.

"Oh, sweetheart!"

She threw herself at Bella and snatched her up like a little child, crushing her to her breast in a tearful purging of a week's worth of worry. Edward looked away from their reunion, feeling rather like an intruder in his own rooms, and allowed his brother and his uncle in with awkward courtesy.

"Did you sleep?" asked Carlisle, reaching out for a hug that Edward did not deny him. The women in the bed were weeping, each babbling questions at the other with a frantic haste that made the tears break into laughter, and back into tears once more. The catharsis was a wrench to watch—neither one seemed truly ready to tend the other—and yet with a mysterious potency that seemed unique to the fairer sex, the tears seemed cleansing. Edward watched over his uncle's shoulder as Esme smoothed Bella's hair between her strong, warm hands, and Bella, laughing and crying in equal measure, gripped Esme in a tight, fearsome grip.

"Some," Edward said quietly, not wishing to disturb their moment. "Not much, I think…"

"And you have a Council meet this evening," sighed the healer. "You'll be clean worn out by the day's end. I'm sure of it."

"I'll manage." Edward drew his hand over his face, willing away his sudden and intense weariness. The thought of the Council daunted him, but he knew there was nothing else for it. "They'll see sense, once their shock wears off."

"Is she really going to stay, Ed?" asked Jasper, bouncing up onto the balls of his feet. It made Edward smile to see it—he had seemed so big and grown up this past week that it was a relief to see some lingering wisps of boyhood. "Did she say so, Ed?"

"Which one do you mean?" Edward chuckled. "There are two women now, under my care…"

"The other one." Jasper shook his head at Bella. "I already know she's going to stay…"

Bella was whispering to Esme now, her face close to her ear. Jasper watched her with a bright intensity that reminded Edward wholly of a puppy who knew and loved its master as it had known and loved its mother. His eyes were alight with a joy that Edward rarely saw, and a pride that was new and strangely mature for his thirteen years. Edward knew, just from the look of him, that he was holding back a great and overbearing instinct to pounce on Bella himself, to take her from their aunt in a giddy riot of love, but the fact that he withheld was a mercy unto itself. He appreciated Jasper as he was now, as tall as a soldier and with a budding patience to match, and he saw, if only for a minute, the kind of man he might grow up to be.

Edward felt a vibrant flare of affection for the boy and he clapped his hand on his shoulder, barely resisting the urge to kiss him, which would have surely embarrassed him silly.

"Yes, Jasper." The boy glanced back at him, tearing his eyes away from the bed. "The woman is going to stay."

"Is it true, what they say about her?"

"I don't know." Carlisle watched them with interest. "What is it that they're saying?"

The thought of rumour made Edward nervous, and he prayed that word had not gotten out about who the woman really was. The laws of the land were clear and vetted, but he doubted that the integration of a foreigner would go so smoothly if the people knew who she was, and where she had come from.

"That she saved Bella," said Jasper quickly. "That she rescued the Lady from the clutches of evil."

"True," said Edward at once. Esme was peering over Bella's wounds now, her face serious and grim as she examined her wrist. "Absolutely true."

Jasper looked impressed.

"Is it true that she stabbed that man in the jungle?" His voice was alight with a macabre vivacity that belied the repulsiveness of the whole ordeal. "I heard Emmett say that she ran him through with a sword."

"Not a sword, but yes," sighed Edward. "She did kill him."

"Is she going to be punished?"

Edward's head snapped down at once.

"No," he said sternly. "No, she won't be punished. Not for that."

Jasper's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Not at all?" he pressed. "Not even a little?"

"Not even a little," vowed Edward. "She acted in self-defence."

"So she says…"

"So Bella says too," he replied at once. "I trust Rosalie, Jasper, and believe she tells me the truth, but beyond that, I trust Bella."

Jasper fell silent, bashful, but full of curious questions.

"Is it true that he…" He glanced at Bella carefully from the corner of his eye, and he frowned when he saw Esme's fingers at her throat. The pink stain on the bandage had grown again, and Esme's face was awash with worry as she waved her husband over. Carlisle went at once, taking time to embrace his patient before he reached for the knot, gently unravelling the bandage at her neck.

When the wound was revealed, even more red and inflamed when Esme pulled back the curtains at the window to give the healer light to work by, Jasper's sharp inhale was angry and sore.

"Did he do that?" he demanded lowly, rounding on Edward with hot accusation. "Did that… that man, do that?"

"Yes." His brother's shoulders sagged. "Yes, Jasper…"

"Is it dangerous?" Carlisle's face was red with anger as he tilted her chin to the left and right, looking seriously at the wound in every light. He pressed around its edges, making Bella wince, and Edward felt a pang of sympathy deep in his belly. Carlisle heard him and turned, shaking his head.

"It's a fine wound, to be sure," he said angrily, "but not so deep as it might be..."

"He didn't kill her as he'd intended," said Edward quickly, turning Jasper away. "But his blade dug deep enough to leave a mark."

"A mark indeed…"

"So you'll understand," said Edward, "why I won't punish the newcomer for her violence."

Jasper said nothing, his gaze fixed steadfastly on the woman in the bed.

"What time is your Council meeting?" asked Jasper.

"We meet for the evening meal," sighed Edward. "I've no idea what time it is. An hour past noon? Two?"

Jasper eyed him, surprised.

"Try four," he said quickly. "Supper will be in less than two hours."

Already Edward felt the weariness in his bones. Jasper, keen-eyed and quick, caught his brother's reluctance at once.

"Do you anticipate resistance?" he asked quietly. "From the Council?"

"I've no idea," Edward admitted. "There are no grounds for it."

"That won't stop them," said Jasper wisely. "I may not know much about the governance of this island, but I do know that when you put thirteen hot-tempered men together in one room and demand a consensus, you will sow nothing but discord."

"Wise words," laughed Edward. His brother's face broke into a chagrined smile. "And you're quite right."

Carlisle began unwrapping Bella's feet, and Edward turned away.

"It will not be easy to convince the Council of her place," sighed Edward. "Even with all our vows of peace and harmony."

"Is it true," Jasper hedged, "about her name?"

Edward looked askance.

"The soldiers talk, Edward," he said softly. "The stories are already flying between them…"

Edward tittered angrily.

"They say she is a fine Lady," said Jasper, "of the Western camp. They say that she is highborn…"

"True," sighed Edward wearily.

"They say…" He hedged. "They say…"

"What do they say?" asked Edward, low and urgent. "Tell me, Jasper. It might be important."

His brother rocked again, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"They say that she is a wife," said Jasper slowly. "That she is the wife."

"The wife?"

"The wife of the enemy," said Jasper at once. "The Wife of the West. They say that she is married to the very soul of the resistance, and that her son—the boy she brought with her—is the heir to the whole Western stronghold."

Edward groaned, his face in his hands.

What a goddamned nightmare.

A/N: Thanks for your patience. As those of you who follow my Twitter page already know, I had a family emergency that required immediate and unexpected travel on Monday morning. We were gone until the middle of the week, and the rest has been pure chaos. Thanks for all your patience and support. For those of you looking for updates on my writing progress and when you might expect new chapters, you can follow me at Moonchild_707. There is a direct link in my bio.

As some of you also know, I am now a working substitute teacher. I took the summer off once school let out and I've had plenty of time for writing, but now that classes are starting back up again, I might have to adjust my update schedule a little bit. I know you've grown used to a chapter every day or two, but once I start getting calls for work, I'm going to have to slow down. My goal is at LEAST one chapter per week, but we'll have to play it by ear.

Someone asked me in a PM just how long this story is going to be. At this time, I don't have even a rough estimate, as my plan is constantly shifting and changing. We're going to have to speed it up a little bit before I end up running this story into the next century, but as it stands, there is still plenty of stuff left to be said. I've had an endgame in sight for this story since the very beginning, and the more I work on it the more fleshed out it becomes. Right now, my best guess is that we're approximately 1/3 of the way through, though I can't be 100% sure.

There has also been some interest about why my characters have been giving me so much trouble lately. This chapter, like the one before, was an absolute NIGHTMARE to write (so much so that I couldn't even enjoy the process, which is extremely rare for me). Even almost a week out, I'm still not happy with where and how it ended off. Like last time, I've got 20+ pages (6,000+ words) of tossed content from this chapter. I'm trying to strike a balance between advancing the plot to keep the story moving, while also developing the characters in a semi-believable, well-paced way. I don't want to bombard you with romance out of left field without setting it up beforehand, which has always been a struggle for someone like me, who has no real experience with or even an INTEREST in any romantic relationships of my own. I'm completely out of my element with building affection between characters, and this particular piece of writing is one of the ways I'm choosing to challenge myself. Sometimes that challenge drives me crazy and makes it hard to get anything written at all.

Another challenge with these chapters is the overwhelming and heartwarming interest you all seem to have about every single detail of life on this island. So many of you want to see everything (every moment, every reunion, every whisper, every peep) which makes it challenging for the author to fulfill those wishes while at the same time advancing the story. To ease this, I'm considering creating an outtakes story to run alongside the main one, so that when I get a ton of requests for more Island content, I can post it up there for those who want to read it without compromising the integrity of the story for those who don't. I haven't decided one way or another, but it is an option I'm considering.

Thanks for all the support you give, even when life gets in my way!