Disclaimer: I'm not making a profit. This was solely written for the enjoyment of the author and other WoT fans.

Thanks to White-wolf, Cassandra Sedai and Roryth for the reviews. I hope you'll continue reading and enjoying the story. And to all those who didn't review, but enjoyed, I'm thankful. But it's always nice to know who's reading. So any criticism, good or bad is always appreciated. ^-^

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Amy Tayleman pulled the brush through her hair quickly. Her chores had run long (courtesy of one conveniently missing brother) and if she didn't hurry she'd be late. She took a quick glance around the room and her eyes rested on the far wall. Seventeen pictures, from birth to age sixteen. Today the next would be taken. Each one showed a smiling brunette with a man that hardly seemed to age, her grandfather.

Arthur Tayleman was described as unusual at best, but most people never hid their contempt for the man. "Mad as a hatter' was how her mother put it, causing Amy to wonder if a degree in English was actually attainable while using such clichés on a daily basis.

"I've seen a turtle moved faster Amy, get down here! We're going to be late," hollered her mother from downstairs.

"And Light forbid that happens," she yelled back, only half jokingly.

She grabbed her bag from her bed and ran down the stairs.

"Sorry mom, but Josh trashed my room while I was out doing his chores."

"And then you were distracted by whatever ridiculous book it is you're reading now," finished Mrs. Tayleman as her daughter brushed past her.

"Well at least I wasn't rotting my brain in front of the TV," she called over her shoulder as she went out the door. "And by the way, it's not 'ridiculous'. It's the Wheel of Time series, which happens to be fantasy that rivals the works of Tolkien."

"Well I wish you wouldn't pick up on the language in those stories. You pick up a book and the next thing I know it 'Light this' and 'Blood and Ashes that', with a few 'Black veiled Aielmen' to boot."

Amy shrugged. As much as she hated to admit it, the language had been unintentional. She figured she was just easily impressionable, but it seemed to fit. More then the slang most her friends (okay, acquaintances) used.

~*~*~

"Grandpa Arthur!" Amy threw her arms around her grandfather, and then pulled back to look at him. Something was wrong. He looked like he had aged years since the last time she had seen him, a month ago.

"Artur honey, Artur." His normal smile was a stark contrast to the lines on his face and the defeat in his eyes.

Amy had to laugh. It was a long standing joke between them. As a child she had called him 'Artur', and when she was old enough to realize her mistake he hadn't let her forget it. She was his only grandchild that visited often, and they had always been close. Most of her summer was spent on this farm, her days spent talking and learning from a man who had wisdom to teach without a willing student until she came along.

"So how's my favourite granddaughter?"

"I'm good grandpa. You? From the smile on your face I'm guessing that you got a new piece in you just can't wait to show me."

Arthur Tayleman collected odd objects from around the world, lending credit to his reputation as eccentric. Personally, Amy found them fascinating.

"Indeed I have. A shark skeleton. Come see," he motioned towards the house and Amy followed him.

Something about the comment had struck her as odd. What was the big deal with a shark skeleton? Then it hit.

"A shark skeleton, eh? And since when do sharks have skeletons?"

"Can't get anything past you, can I?"

"Of course not, I'm your granddaughter, aren't I?"

His reply was so quiet she barely heard him.

"You are indeed."

~*~*~

"Open it," urged Josh.

Amy looked at the small present. She knew full well what it was, and silently thanked whatever power there was that she hadn't went shopping the week before. But she still let out a squeal of delight when the wrapping fell away to reveal a new copy of The Shadow Rising. Hers had landed in a puddle the week before, and she hadn't had time to finish it.

"Thank you Josh," she said, embracing him. "You're almost forgiven for skipping out on mucking Sashaw's stall."

Her younger brother pouted. "Almost?"

"Fine. You're forgiven. But I'm not doing it tomorrow."

"Awww, come on Amy. You know Dave and I have plans."

"Well you can just reschedule your so called plans –which I doubt consist of more then bugging everyone you know- to fit in a trip to the barn. Light, she's your horse."

Another package was thrust into her hands. Much smaller then the last one, and she didn't know who it was from. Simple gold wrap was topped with a delicate bow of pale blue. She unfolded one corner carefully, then the other. A small box tumbled out. Her hands shook as she opened the minute clasp, revealing a necklace.

Her breath caught in her throat.

"Thank you grandpa Artur," she said quietly as the elderly man fastened a chain around her neck.

"It was my mother's you know."

"I know."

Tears blurred her vision. It was hardly possible, but it was happening. In all her years she had never seen the necklace off her grandfather, but he had given it to her. The thoughts raced through her mind at breakneck speeds –So clichés are hereditary, she thought wryly- and all drew the same conclusion: Her grandfather knew something was wrong.

"What I don't know…" her voice trailed off as she caught her first good look at of the charm dangling on it. Impossible. The ancient symbol of the Aes Sedai was looking back at her.

"Where did you get this?" she demanded, somehow unaware how harsh her voice had become.

"It was my mother's."

Her grandfather's voice brought her back to reality.

"I'm sorry. It's just a strange coincidence. This symbol…well, I was wondering where it's from. I'm reading a series right now where this exact design is an ancient symbol for those who can use this power."

Most of her family snorted in disbelief, but it was her grandfather's reaction that drew her attention. A peculiar look crossed his face, and he reached out as if to touch it. His hand dropped before it reached her though, and when he spoke his words were resigned. "I understand."

~*~*~

By the time she was home, Amy had begun to wonder about her grandfather's words. She hadn't had the time to contemplate them before the next gift was given to her, and then cake and ice cream. I understand. What a strange way to phrase it.

"'Night mom," she said, and headed for her room. She stifled a yawn. Great. The last thing she needed to be was tired. She still had a lab report to finish, and six o'clock came early.

"Well, I'll just have to use a caffeine IV," she told herself.

But by the time she had reached all thoughts of homework had fled her mind. She collapsed into bed, too tired to even change. Years of insomnia taught her that the only way she would sleep, no matter how tired she was, would be a total clearing of the mind. She closed her eyes and focused on a speck of silver light, pushing all thoughts into it. It slowly grew bigger until she mentally popped it and embraced the black void left in its absence.

~*~*~

Amy opened her eyes, and gave a slow yawn. Early morning sunlight dappled across the small glen of trees she was in, warming her face. Such a wonderful dream.

"Hey Sashaw," she said as the dun nudged her hand.

As she slowly entered a state of wakefulness she realized there was something different about her dream. It was too real. The weather was typical of an early spring day, but wrong somehow. A slight breeze rustled the leaves in the trees, and an insect buzzed past her face. There was a faint smell of winter not long gone, and the promise of spring. Memories tickled her subconscious, but she dismissed most of them.

But there were a few that would not be suppressed.

The name Amy will stick out in the Two Rivers. Better think of something.

Remember to speak like they do.

You're almost there. It's just over that hill.

The Winespring Inn.

She quickly saddled Sashaw, noticing the travel gear pack as she did. A realistic touch. Very nice.

She began to walk towards the distant hill that beckoned her.

~*~*~

"Ugh, get!" Amy muttered as she swatted a mosquito for the umpteenth time. What she had thought to be a pleasant dream had turned out to be a nightmare of epic proportions.

Time seemed to move all to close to reality, the trip over the hill being as long as it would have back home. She cursed as the ground beneath her feet, muddied by spring thaw, shifted and she twisted her ankle.

The pain tore her from her thoughts as she rose and continued up the hill. She began to realize something. Experimentally, Amy tried to imagine her clothes were not muddy. No such luck. This was no dream.

She reached this conclusion as she crested the hill. Emond's Field sprawled before her. The village green was bustling with people, their laughter reaching her ears. The inn. She had to find the Winespring Inn. She would make her next move after a long, luxurious bath, and fresh clothes.