The Endless Gallop: Sequel to Torn From Hope
Chapter One
By stazsong magick

A/N: I'm finally back to writing! It's been months. I went through an I-wanna-be-a-musician phase for a while and was practicing constantly, but I've toned down on music. At least for now. It's so confusing. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Write? Or music? Either way, I'll have to practice a ton if I want to be any good at it.

ANYWAY!... this will seem slightly odd, slightly different, especially if you happened to read one of my older fanfics. Numair is already very OOC. I'm also going to try something I've never done before, a sub-plot or two. Let me know if you have any good extra ideas. Reviews are nice.

Disclaimer: None of the characters in here belong to me, I own only the idea & plot and whatever characters I decide to add in (which have been none yet). Etc etc.

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Winter was coming. The forests of Tortall were on fire with the bright colors of the autumn leaves. Squirrels and other rodents could be soon storing away stashes of supplies for the coming months. As for a certain wildmage named Daine... the palace cooks would often find her in the kitchen store room, hastily sneaking large rations of nuts and others of the lot into her arms, trying to hide her (obvious) awkwardness.
"Just getting a snack," she said one such time, smiling weakly and attempting to slide away. The cook's apprentice, a boy about seventeen, caught her arm. Everything she'd been trying to hide spilled out onto the formerly spotless ground.
"A snack of pecans and cashews, eh?" he joked, then pulled a small sack out of his apron pocket. "Maybe this will help." He helped her gather all of the nuts into the bag. "So, what's all this for?" he finally asked.
Daine remained with her previous face: "I'm hungry, and..."
"... and you're going to give them to your squirrel friends," the main chef said, winking knowingly. His face straightened. "But this is the last time I'll allow it, Daine. Any more twilight disappearances of my food will force me to bolt the door at night."
The wildmage blushed. "I'm sorry." With a small glance at the group of disapproving faces, Daine spun around. She then hurried out into the cooler hall, where the harvest moon shone brightly through a window. A lone squirrel stood in the splash of light. It immediately ran up to her joyfully.
—More food? More food?— It's mind-voice squeaked hopefully.
Daine nodded, and suddenly a bevy of watchful squirrels emerged from the shadows. Each had a worried look to it.
—Thank you much,— one said, —You are the one reason our families will survive this Great Cold.—
Daine smiled. "I won't be able to get you any more food from here, though. The cook'll skin me alive."
—Oh.— The speaker's face fell. He beckoned to the squirrels behind him, and they all gathered around Daine. She set her hoard on the ground and each rodent took a few choice pieces, then quickly scampered away. Within a few seconds they had all disappeared, all except for one, which seemed to be the leader.
—I don't know what to do,— it sighed, —We have looked but we find nothing! Nothing!—
"I— I could go into the market tomorrow and see if I could find you something," Daine suggested. "There might be a vender or two."
—Please!— the squirrel said, —Anything would help us.—
"I couldn't make any promises."
—Anything would help us.— The pleading, desperate look on the squirrel's face made her feel guilty.
"Fine," she sighed, "Meet here tomorrow, same time, then?"
The bushy-tailed rodent nodded vigorously. —I thank you—, it squeaked, before disappearing into the shadows and out the window.
Daine sighed again, then leaned her side up against the stone wall. Only a week ago a squirrel had come to her to plead help; none of its kind had enough food to last through winter, and she was their only hope. But where could all of the forest's walnuts and acorns gone? It gave her a headache to think about it.
A sudden prickling at the back of her neck told her someone was behind her, but before she could turn around, an arm snaked its way around her waist and someone's lips were in her hair.
"Where have you been?" they murmured. Daine spun around and there he was, the mage Numair. His hair was down and rumpled-looking. He'd obviously been sleeping, then woken up to find she was gone.
"Getting food," she answered.
Numair smiled grimly. He knew what the food was for. "Why not just tell the head cook why you need it? It would save a lot of needless trouble — and sleep."
Daine resisted the urge to cry out in frusteration. "Because he doesn't care, that's why! None of them care."
The mage pulled her against his chest, which was surprisingly warm after the cold wall. "They'll find a way. Why do you think the squirrels haven't gone extinct yet? Surely this — this famine, or whatever it is — has happened before in history. And you weren't there either. And they survived to live on to today."
"If that's what you believe, then I'll believe it now. But only until I find out the truth."
"Stubborn as a mule, that one," Numair remarked airily, grinning.
"I'm serious."
"Very serious."
"Numair!" Daine cried. "What's wrong with y— oh, gods!"
Numair frowned. "What now?"
Daine struggled out of his extremely firm grip. "I forgot to tend to one of the stable horses; I was to see to it earlier; it has a sickness of some sort!"
He sighed. "Might as well go heal it now."
They both took off down the hall, took a left, took a right, opened the door — then, flying along, Daine dashed into the palace stables. She knew immediately which horse was the sick one; she could feel its pain quite noticably.
The ill horse's stall was eight stalls down her left. Sliding open the door, she winced. The horse was down on the ground, groaning something awful. If you ignored the fact that it was very dirty from lying down all night, it could be seen as a very beautiful horse. Its blonde-white was stained with manure, mud, and full of bits of hay. The rest of it was a pearly white color. Looking over at the horse's grain bin, Daine could see a full ration of food remaining. The horse had never eaten since it had taken ill.
"Poor thing," she whispered, then immediately bent down and began to search through it mentally to find the source. But she couldn't. It was like the disease did not exist — but it did, it had to, Daine could sense the infection. But where at? It was impossible.
Perhaps it was the whole squirrel catastrophe, perhaps it was the fact that it was two A.M., but something inside her collasped. Daine gave up. "I can't do it, Numair," she sobbed. "I don't know why, but I can't."
"Try again in the morning," he suggested.
"No," she cried fretfully, "It won't work. It won't ever work! Squirrels, horses, what's next?!"

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A/N: Like? Yes? No? I'm still trying to decide to continue it or not. Positive reviews will help convince me to ;)