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Note on re-post:

Ok, so after re-reading The Shadow Rising, I found I had made a BIG mistake with the time-line. So I have fixed a little on chapter 2 and a lot on chapter 3.

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Fabric, Fire, Fade

Ania spent the next three days in utter, all-consuming euphoria. Well, it took her another visit to Rand, basically forcing him to give her money – the scene had not been pretty – before she could reach that state, but having accomplished this, she went shopping. Saying, "went" isn't quite right, since she stayed in the Stone the entire time. In a world where you could easily get away with murder, a large city like Tear wasn't exactly the first place Ania would go for a stroll. So she asked the majhere what to do, and the woman brought four seamstresses up to Ania's rooms.

"You made the right decision, not to go wandering about in the streets," approving was the least you could say of the majhere's tone, "who knows what could happen to a pretty" – the woman was obviously blind – "young woman like you out there." With a sniff that told Ania exactly what she thought of the streets of Tear, she left. Ania ticked off one of the points on her mental list: "Things to witness in Randland". So THAT'S a sniff.

The seamstresses were looking her up and down, apparently thinking about what colors would fit her, and how the dresses were to look. They're in for a surprise.

They were indeed most definitely surprised at what Ania ordered them to make. She had spent the day of her arrival thinking about this – among other things – and had realized that the beautiful dresses she had at first envisioned were rather unfit for a travel in the Aiel Waste. So she made the seamstresses make three pairs if linen breeches (the capris of Randland) and four silk shirts, in addition to a light blue riding dress in wool. When the seamstresses asked if they should make some stockings as well, Ania laughed and said, "I've got that covered." In her mad-and-happy state after the arrival, she'd of course forgotten her socks in Rand's room, and he'd dumped them on her after the money-grubbing incident. They were all nicely placed in the gold-enameled wardrobe of hers. Which happened to be what she was looking at when the seamstresses left.

"Do they put gold on everything?" she said to herself for the nth time.

She spent the time waiting for her new clothes either reading The Prophecies of the Dragon, to try and figure out what happened after Crossroads of Twilight, or stalking her favorite characters. Mat labeled her "insane and possibly dangerous" after she'd for the third time stopped him to ask whether he'd started hearing dice yet. Frankly, the only person who didn't think her a complete nuthead was Nynaeve, whom in turn had labeled Ania, "quite likable." That could have to do with the fact that they both had an unusual amount of temper.

Nynaeve noted this on the second day, when Ania was getting anxious that her clothes wouldn't arrive in time, and she would end up wearing the same old denim skirt and red cotton shirt for several months. For someone who followed a strict pattern when it came to changing outfits, that was hell. She was stomping down a corridor, and promptly bumped into Mat. He was carrying an oil-lamp for some reason, and somehow managed to set the right sleeve of her shirt on fire. It hurt, of course, and it took her a while to think straight, and rip the detachable sleeve off. She stamped on it, and the fire went out.

Both because her arm hurt like hell and because she was now going to wear a lopsided shirt for several months, she exploded.

"You idiot! You complete woolhead!" she trailed off in a series of muttered curses, before continuing, "what was the flaming point of doing that?"

"I didn't do anything," Mat said, quite reasonably, "if you didn't keep following me around all the time, this wouldn't have happened."

"Followed you? You have high ideas of yourself, Master Cauthon!" Her voice was shrill, yet she couldn't care less.

"Look, you didn't get hurt, did you?"

It came to Ania that her arm was no longer hurting. She looked at it: there wasn't even a hint of a burn. But…?

"See?" Mat said.

"You still ruined my shirt!"

"Why don't you just take the other arm off as well, and then there won't be anything odd about it!" He sounded quite exasperated.

Nothing wrong at all. There was no way she would walk about without sleeves. Before she knew what she was doing, she had slapped him across the face and stomped off.

Which was why, on the third afternoon, she was pacing back and forth feeling like a complete idiot. Why? Why did I let my temper run off with me? Mat is supposed to be my favorite character, and I slap him? What kind of idiot does such a thing? The only positive thing was that Nynaeve had looked approving when she'd asked if Ania needed healing. That thought led to another, something she'd been wondering about for a while now: why did her arm heal that fast? It didn't make sense, she knew how a burn felt – as a matter of fact, she had a large scar on her left arm, after getting a cup of hot coffee over it as a kid – and that HAD been a burn. So why was her arm unharmed? Oh GOD no! I am not turning into a Mary Sue with special powers! Please no!

Her fearful thoughts were interrupted by a scream of terror from the corridor. Oh no, Ania thought, the attack on the Stone. She had completely forgotten. The Stone was probably mingling with Trollocs and Myrddraal by now! Ok, reasonable thoughts, reasonable thoughts…

"Right," she muttered to herself, "what to do now?" Both fleeing and staying seemed unwise, since both would make her an easy target. But it seemed to her that out of those two, staying was much more preferable than running around in the corridors, waiting for Rand to do the whole Callandor Shadowspawn-seeking lighting-trick. So she tiptoed to the door, listened to make sure there were no Myrddraal or Trolloc outside, and locked the door. Which was very unwise, since Fades doesn't make a sound, and there happened to be one just outside the door.

The door handle rattled. Ania stared at it in pure, all-consuming terror. Something was banged against the wood – the hilt of a pitch-black sword.

"You can't escape me," came a horribly sounding voice from outside, and Ania had a sudden urge to wail at the top of her lungs, "open up. I won't…hurt you." Her wail came out in a croak. The Fade was laughing, humorlessly. Abruptly, the laugh stopped. Ania sighed heavily.

"You certainly took your time," she muttered under her breath to the non-present Rand. Confident that Rand had taken care of present Shadowspawn, she took up again her pacing back and forth, lamenting loudly over her temper. Soon, she had gotten herself into such a fit that she picked up an ornate vase and threw it at the gold enameled wardrobe. She missed, and watched two pale hands reach out from the shadows to catch it. Her spine turned to ice, her legs to jelly, yet her eyes could not stray from the Myrddraal as it stepped out from the shadow of the wardrobe.

Myrddraal travel by shadows… The thought fluttered in her mind, taunting her, and disappeared.

"I was…amused," the Fade said. Ania knew it was lying; Fades' only amusement lay in killing. "By your behavior. For a while. Now, I think, I will let your death amuse me."

Now, came from the place in Ania's brain that wasn't paralyzed by the Fade, would be a good time to move. Oh, how she wanted to. Just run out that door, away from that fear-evoking gaze, and find Rand. But she couldn't; it was as if her feet were fastened to the floor. A sob escaped her. She saw the Myrddraal approach, saw it draw its sword, saw the sword of Thakan'dar absorb the light of the oil-lamps, instead of reflecting it, saw the Myrddraal lift it to take her head off…

That's when it happened. The horrible paralyzing fear disappeared as Ania was blinded by a flash of lighting. She felt a sharp, stinging pain on her left arm, across the years-old burn, and knew that this was the end. The lighting had made the Myrddraal miss her head, but he had still managed to cut her arm. However shallow, a wound from a Fade's sword meant death.

She fell to her knees, clutching her arm. Blinking against the purple spots across her vision that the lighting had caused, she waited for something to happen. Death. But the only thing that did was that her arm stopped hurting. Staring at it, she got up, legs still wobbly from the encounter with the Fade. There was no wound on her arm. It had healed. Where there should be a killing gash, there was only smooth skin.

She'd survived a wound from a Fade, without an Aes Sedai. I am turning into a Mary Sue! Ania turned to the mirror, to see if her eyes had suddenly grown large and sapphire-y. Nope. And no sign of silver shine in her dark blonde hair either. Sighing, she dumped down on the bed and gazed at the ceiling. Was that a gold pattern? In the ceiling?

"Meh, whatever," Ania said and rolled over on her stomach. She stretched out her arms and studied them, for the hundredth time comparing the left to the right. Whenever Ania had lamented over that bizarre-looking star of a scar on her left arm, her mum had always told her that it was an "original trait" and that she should be proud of it. Sufficient to say, when her mum said something like that, Ania was not proud of it. But, thanks to Mat, she now had to show it off to everyone.

"Well, at least Aiel find scars attractive," she said aloud to no one in particular.

"They do?" came a musical voice from the door. Ania started, got up, and had her first view of Moiraine. Another point in her mental list was ticked off as she took in the ageless look. And she was short! Ania thought her nine-year-old little sister was taller than this woman!

"How did you get in?" she asked. Maybe I should send for those seamstresses to make me a silk dress, she thought, as she noticed how nice Moiraine's dress looked. She shook off the thought when she realized how stupid it sounded, especially with everything that had happened tonight taken into account.

"The door was unlocked. You're really lucky none of the Shadowspawned got in here," Moiraine said.

"But," Ania said, staring in confusion at the open door, "I locked it! I swear I did!"

"Then please explain to me why it was unlocked just a minute ago." Moiraine looked expectantly at Ania, and continued when Ania did nothing but stand around, looking flustered, "There you go. Now, Rand sent me here to check if you everything was alright here, is it?"

"Yes." Ania remembered her supposed profession, "he tried to revive a child, didn't he?"

Moiraine didn't look surprised at all. Ania supposed Rand had told her.

"Be glad I'm not a Brown," Moiraine said, her voice sounding amused, "I will leave you now." She turned and left.

Ania was left staring at the door, questions buzzing in her head. Why had her arm healed so fast, twice? And why had the door unlocked itself? It made no sense.

The Aelfinn will know.

She jumped out of the bed, and walked determinedly out the door.