Epilogue

Nightfox, perched comfortably on Kiriath's head, giggled girlishly and buried her head under her wing self-consciously. The leather 'wrapping' that was attached to the Companion's bridle and was worn comfortably over Kiriath's head prevented the deadly talons from sticking into the non-horse's skull.

:Oh, please,: she laughed. :It's not that big of a deal…:

:Of course it is,: Kiriath said, pleased. :Today you will become the first Kestrel-Herald in all of history.:

:And I'll get my Whites!: Nightfox cried out happily. Chosen and Companion had a moment of silence, and then both burst out laughing at the thought of the little kestrel donned in Heraldic garb.

A sixteen-year-old male approached the pair, oceanic eyes gleaming with laughter as well, short bright white hair gleaming in the morning sunlight.

"You don't need Whites," he said, grinning, placing his right hand on the Companion's saddle and his left hand affectionately on Nightfox's head. "You're already white as it is!"

It was true – Nightfox's feathers were now thoroughly bleached into a snowy white, her eyes a crystal blue, in strange and beautiful contrast against her feathers. There was no trace of the earthly slate-blue-winged kestrel that had once been Snowsong's bondbird.

:But you'll need Whites,: Nightfox reminded him, nibbling on the ends of his fingers. :I doubt anyone will listen to me if you come riding up in all your scruffy glory with me perched on your shoulder.:

"Scruffy?" Snowsong echoed, make-indignant. "Scruffy?"

Kiriath's head raised abruptly, earning a startled cry from the kestrel before she could reply, and she looked down the slope at something.

:They're back,: she said, turning to Snowsong. :Come!:

Snowsong mounted, quickly, and Nightfox hastily flapped up onto his shoulder and clutched the leather grips with her talons, made especially for the purpose of her being able to ride easily with her Lifebonded.

Kiriath dashed down the hill towards her brother and his White-clad Chosen, who hopped off before he even stopped and landed deftly on her feet.

"Snowsong!" she cried out, waving at the descending Tayledras ex-scout. "Kest – Nightfox! Kiriath!"

"Derik!" a Chosen called out with a laugh, one arm resting around his Companion's shoulders as Rae trotted towards them, a small prancing frame at her side.

Dawnshadow grinned and ran forward, embracing her friend Herald, who smiled crookedly and patted her head awkwardly. Snowsong and Nightfox dismounted, and the Changechild – who looked no more like a Changechild, except for her non-altered eyes – ran forward to give them both a hug as well…except Nightfox, whose crest was stroked instead.

The colt Companion, meanwhile, danced forward and whinnied proudly at his sire, who bent down and nuzzled him.

:Ranith, hello!: Kyrrith said joyfully as Ranaena trotted forward, mentally smiling. There was no heard reply – the Companion had not yet Chosen someone, and didn't Bespeak for the benefit of the others present.

"Getting Whites today?" Dawnshadow inquired, tilting her head.

"Yes," Snowsong said, grinning proudly at Nightfox, who leapt off his shoulder and hovered a bit before fisting her talons and perching on his head – her favorite spot. "Or, at least, I am."

:I doubt they have any Whites in my size,: Nightfox said, preening an ivory wing feather. Kiriath trod forward in the background, taking a look at her young nephew. :And besides, I don't need them.:

"I need Whites," Derik grumbled good-naturedly, looking down at himself. His apparel was worn and dirty, stained green with grass and brown with dirt. "Ranith's getting the better of me in our…fights."

Dawnshadow looked back at the colt, who was busy running circles around his parents and aunt. She giggled. "He's so cute!"

Derik looked at the Changechild incredulously, then shook his head sadly. "Poor Dawnie. You're turning into a Kuriana. Where's the naïve little kitten I used to have so much fun with, hmm?"

Dawnshadow shrugged, and Derik sighed and looked around.

"Well, anyway, we've got to get going inside," he said, giving the Companions one last glance before he turned around. "Me'n Snow-"

"Snowsong."

"-Snowsong need to get some new Whites, and I'm willing to bet we're all hungry."

~

Zohariel watched the various Chosens walk through the Companion's field before they disappeared inside the Heralds' Collegium. He sighed, and ducked back inside the window, lying depressed-ly on the bed. Khira had stopped visiting him, for some reason, and he speculated that it was because she had finally Chosen someone and hadn't the heart to tell him goodbye.

And she said that she would Choose me when she got old enough…

Well, he hadn't really believed her, of course – she was just a filly, and if they had switched roles, that was probably what he would have told her as well. Still…the life of a jeweler still didn't appeal to him.

At least he was old enough to have his own room now. His old dorm-mates had been getting on his nerves, with their eavesdropping on Havii and the rest.

And what was worse was that Havii still bothered him. As the years past, she seemed to have grown more infatuated with him – and he grew more solitary, isolated, more lone wolf-ish. But that didn't really bother him much…he was alone in everything he did, in his non-willingness to be a jeweler, in his insatiable desire to be a Herald. And he wasn't really lonely. Just…alone. 'Alone' and 'lonely' were different matters entirely.

He sighed and angled his elbows, arms moving back behind his head. He stared determinedly at the ceiling.

I'm not lonely, I'm not, I'm not…

He closed his eyes and held back tears.

:What you need, my friend, is a cat.:

His eyes popped open, and he jerked up and looked around for the source of the voice. It was in his mind – but it wasn't Khira.

"What?"

:Over here, dog-minded one. By the window.:

Zohariel looked at the window, and saw there, perched comfortably on the open sill, a dark gray cat licking his paw nonchalantly and rubbing it against his head.

"Who are you?" Zohariel demanded, wondering if he had finally gone insane.

I'm talking to a cat. What's wrong with me?

Now the cat looked indignantly at him.

:If you're going to think, keep your thoughts to yourself,: he said disgustedly. Zohariel stared.

Yeah, that cat's definitely talking to me.

:Of course I'm talking to you, idiot,: the cat replied. :And since you're not doing anything, I would like a bowl of milk. Or cream, if you have it.:

"Listen, cat, I'm not going to give you a bowl of milk," Zohariel said, standing up and walking towards the window. The cat stared at him blankly.

:I can't understand you. You'll have to Mindspeak back to me.:

:Fine, then,: Zohariel replied, 'thinking' directly at the cat and hoping that he was doing that the cat had told him to do. What had he called it? Mindspeak? :I'm not going to give you a bowl of milk.:

:Why not?: the cat demanded, flattening his ears at him and wrinkling his nose ever-so-slightly.

:Because!: Zohariel replied. :I can't just give you milk! I don't even know who you are!:

:My name is Silver,: the cat replied, standing and seeming to glare at him. :And if you're not going to give me milk, Dog-face, then I guess I'm just going to have to leave.:

He seemed to sniff indignantly and then jumped out the window, padding off relaxed and disappearing around the corner of the building. Zohariel stared at it, then pulled back into the room.

Was I just talking to a cat?

:Yes, sweet, and he's right – you should keep your thoughts to yourself,: quirked a sweet voice in the back of his mind. A familiar voice.

Zohariel turned to faced the window, and saw an older version of his old friend – and immediately felt as if he were falling…falling in a twirling maelstrom of blue.

A/N: Well, that's it! Sorry if I ruined the ending for you by putting more of my aimless jabbering in, but thank you so much for sticking with this story until…well…until now.

I want to tell you that I do plan on writing a sequel in the future…heh, look at me, I sound like an author. ^.^;;

Anyway, back to what I was saying before – yeah, I do plan on writing a sequel. But I have no plot. If you want to send me an idea for a possible plot, feel free to e-mail it to me (aurakage@hotmail.com), but please – put something in the subject somewhere to the equivalent of 'Kismet Sequel Idea', or it will be deleted. Also, place it directly into the e-mail, and not in an attachment. If you send me a virus, there will be no more writing, now, will there? ^-^;;

Once again, thank you. Ja ne! *waves*