It was dark...very dark. But something woke her up; simply would not go away. She tried to push it away, but it would not yield. She could hear voices coming from very far away, as if through a thick fog. Since she could not stay in the dark where it was comfortable, she might as well at least wake up enough to tell whoever it was that was talking to shut up so she could get some rest.

          It was easy, really; all she had to do was concentrate on the voices and they got louder and closer, as if the fog were thinning. But the closer she got, the more she hurt. Her entire body felt as if it were on fire, and the closer to waking she got, the more the pain increased. An involuntary whimper escaped her and the voices ceased. The pain in her arm increased briefly as someone touched her wrist--presumably for a pulse.

          By now the voices had started up their whispering again and she could hear snatches of the conversation.

          "....cold....should have died...."

          "Damon....in time....never anything like it....."

          "....so strong! I never would have thought...."

          Christa couldn't tell if they were the voices of many people, or just a few. Where am I, anyway? Well, to find that out, she first had to remember where she last was....but it was really hard to remember. Almost like a fog obscured those memories. Then she remembered; the road. She'd been running, from....something. No; someone. She had been trying to get away from someone, but it had gotten so cold....so very cold. And she had stopped to rest....then...then...she was Chosen! But no...what Companion would Chose a nameless nobody such as her? She didn't even have a last name; just a first.

          I must be going crazy, she thought to herself. How else would I be thinking that a Companion would Chose me? I should have just died; I'd rather be dead than crazy....

          :Don't be silly. You are far from crazy, and I definitely don't want you dead.: Said a soft, yet amused--and distinctly male--voice in her head. Christa actually physically flinched in surprise--which resulted in agony. Her body wasn't on fire; it was in flames. Those weren't needles stabbing her; they were rusty swords.

          :We can't have you blacking out again; that would be very bad indeed.: The voice said again. And with the voice, came a relief so profound she would have wept had it been possible. :Ah. Much better, eh?:

          Yes, she thought fiercely. And now that the pain was gone, she could concentrate on other things. Like opening her eyes to find out where she was exactly, and who was with her. She blocked everything else out and focused solely on just that. It took three tries, but she finally succeeded, blinking slowly several times to clear her much-blurred vision.

          And froze in place once she could see, for there were two people in the room besides her, one sitting on either side of her. But that was not what held her motionless. Oh, no; what held her rock still--if she could have moved before, she couldn't now--was that they both wore whites.

          By the Gods. I'm in a room with Heralds, and I can't even speak....

          That much was certain; she felt as if her entire throat was a solid block of ice. There was no way she could get any words past that constriction. Her stomach also felt like a pool of ice. As she dragged her gaze away from the two Heralds, she saw she was lying on the floor on a small shack-like little cabin right next to the fire, with anything that could ever have passed for a blanket piled on top of her.

          As she blinked a few more times, the Herald's faces swam into view. One was a girl who looked a few years older than herself, and the other was a man who looked to be in his twenties. The girl had the dark brown hair and hazel eyes of a farmer, and the man had sandy colored, curly hair and eyes to match his companions. Both were striking.

          "I see you're awake now; you had us all very scared for a while, young lady. I am Herald Cathan, and my intern is Herald Elena. My Jesther told me your name is Christa, is that right?" The dark man said with a smile.

          Christa tried to speak, then winced as her throat protested and just settled for a slight nod. Elena was now leaning over to pick up a steaming mug from the floor.

          "Here. Drink this; it should warm you up a bit." She said, then held the cup to Christa's lips as Cathan propped her up.

          She was right; the drink was very nice. Not too sweet, but not bitter and began to warm her up immediately. Christa relaxed her muscles slowly as the tension from the cold began to reside. The pins and needles that had been impaling her entire body were not even half so bad now. It felt more like she'd hit her funny bone lightly and it had spread all over her body.

          "Thank you," Christa managed to choke out in a raspy voice. Now that she was more awake and not quite as cold,(she was only shivering mildly by now) she was able to look at the Heralds more closely.

          Maybe the Bard's tales about Heralds are true, Christa thought in wonder. Maybe they are above all the petty things in life. Neither of them has stared at me once....

Christa was used to being looked at askance. At first glance, people usually thought she was albino; she had hair so blonde it was white. But people only thought that until they saw her eyes; no albino could possibly have her silver eyes. They weren't gray, or even hazel, they were silver. Her father used to call her his "Little Ice Princess".

          Christa didn't blame people for staring. After all, it wasn't every day one came across a girl with long, flowing white hair, and eyes that make you shiver simply to look at them. All in all, Christa was used to bracing herself before entering a room, or a new town. She still had to keep reminding herself that she wasn't growing a second nose in the middle of her forehead, or had some sort of crude sign on her back--although that had happened once.

          Christa was just beginning to believe in the Bard's as tellers of the truth, and not just fantasy tale writers when she noticed Elena darting looks at her--no, her hair--out of the corners of her eyes. Something inside her died forever in that instant. Something deep inside her had secretly rejoiced at the thought that Herald's had seen so many odd things in their lives that her appearance would seem like nothing out of the ordinary; that something had just been crushed beyond recognition with that one little look.

          I'll never be accepted anywhere. Everywhere I go, I'll always be the same thing; a freak. Christa thought bitterly. And when I get to Haven, I'll be even more of a freak. I'll be wearing gray clothing....my hair will stand out even more. And forget the Whites of a Herald; I'll positively scream freak.

          :I like you just as you are, Chosen. You will always belong in my heart, if nowhere else in the world. And the Heralds will accept you. They have seen both things and people much stranger than yourself; the Tayledras for example. Or the Gryphons. If you simply say something to Elena, she will stop making you feel uncomfortable: Damon said softly in her mind.

          Christa blinked at the wave of love and warmth sent to her by Damon, and nearly burst into tears at the sense of endless belonging. She took a moment to be sure she could speak without crying before she caught Elena's eyes and held them; no one seemed able to look away unless she let them, and she did not let Elena.

          "I'm not albino, if that's what your thinking. My hair was just....always like this." Christa said softly, though her voice still rasped and her throat hurt a bit to talk.

          "Oh....I'm sorry. I've just never seen hair so white on anyone but an Adept...." Elena said with a blush. "I truly didn't mean anything by my looking, but...you aren't an Adept?"

          "No. I'm not even a Mage," Christa said, felling slightly better. So that was why she was looking at me so strangely? She thought I might be an Adept? Maybe I will fit in here after all.

          Damon didn't actually say "I told you so," but she definitely got the feeling he wanted to.

          "Well....now that we have the basics down," Cathan said into the silence that had fallen. "We have a few questions for you, young lady. For instance; why were you running yourself into exhaustion in the middle of the forest in the dead of winter?"

          "I was being chased."

          "By whom?"

          "I don't know." Christa said softly, then launched into the whole story, right up until Damon Chose her.