Shade: **All curled up under a blanket in a box Garfield-style, chewing on her teddy bear's ear while she dreams**

**The room is stocked with boxes with little, golden tags on them with labels reading things like MUSE, INSPIRATION, PLOT, and for some odd reason, ARTICHOKES. Easily accessible! Plot diagrams! Explanations! And *gasp*, dare she dream it, one solid, decisive ending (complete with a little blue road map with detailed, Shade-proof instructions explaining exactly how to get from point A to point B)! Truly, this must be-**

**POOF**

Shade: **wakes up suddenly-** PLOT!! Finally! ^________^…eh?

Muse: **Wanders by her carrying two over-stuffed suitcases with bumper stickers pasted all over them that read 'Fiji or bust!'**

Shade: -.-; I've got to get a leash for that thing…

Muse seems to do that, doesn't it? Actually, it seems to be sticking around for the moment at least. I did start another plot map, so I have the next several chapters laid out, including a rematch in about six chapters or so. Wait, two rematches I guess you could say. Bwehe ^^. And I sit and snicker.

Kejeth- Garren the next thunder dragoon? You'll just have to wait and see...

Sors- Advancements in science and magic? Muchos, though I haven't really touched on it. Although I really can't wait to see what certain winglies do with a keg of gunpowder…

Side Story 5

The sun was sinking slowly under the western horizon, setting the crests of the ocean waves afire as they ran up to the rocky island shore. The sky was scudded with clouds, but they were for the most part far off to the east, their woolly underbellies purple with the promise of rain. There was a gentle onshore breeze; it stirred the long leaves of the smooth-trunked trees surrounding the platform, setting them to rustling and the roosting seabirds into the air, crying out stridently as they circled on the wind.

On the platform below most of the students had dispersed, grumbling stomachs calling them home more insistently than any dinner bell could. Even the masters had long since retired, giving in to the heat of the day rather than fight it. Now but one remained, callused feet sliding and stepping over the rough boards with a quick precision that far surpassed the talents of any but the most practiced of dancers.

Sweat ran in rivulets over Garren's bare shoulders as he finished the kata, and clasped his hands tightly in front of him as he took steady, shallow breaths. He held the stance for a few seconds before breaking, dipping a quick, respectful bow toward the setting sun and then heading to the log at the edge of the platform to retrieve his shirt.

Pulling it over his head, he fished around behind the log for the wineskin he had left in the shade earlier that day. Out of respect for the people's sense of morality wine and other alcohol were scarce on the island, so the skin contained little more than warm water mixed with a pulped lemon, but the wingly gulped the sour mix down as though it were the finest cold ale.

"Careful. Drink too fast and you'll get pains in your belly later on tonight."

Garren took one final, long swallow before wiping his mouth on his wrist and stuffing the bung back in the neck of the skin. "You tell me that every night Mary, and every night the same thing happens."

"And what, pray tell, would that be."

He shrugged and dropped the skin. "I get a bellyfull of pains. What else?"

Mary shook her head, sucking her bottom lip. With wispy white hair even paler than the wingly's, she had spent so many years out under the ocean sun that her skin looked like old leather, creased and pinched like a dried apple. At eighty-three she was old for a human; older certainly, than anyone else on the island save Garren himself. But in spite of her advanced years she still remained an active part of the village; no longer able to work nets on the fishing boats, she now oversaw the young woman who cleaned and gutted the day's catch, providing assistance where needed and picking out mistakes with a sharp eye. Now she watched Garren critically, her tongue probing the gum between a gap in her teeth.

At last she turned away, tossing her hands in the air and snorting like an old mule. "I give up. One of these days I'll slip some lambswort leaves in that juice of yours. That'll teach you to guzzle it down like you do."

"If it makes you happy, Mary." Garren clapped her on the shoulder, grinning as her knees buckled slightly. "Seriously, though. Why'd you bother coming all the way up here? Someone so old and venerable as yourself shouldn't have to be climbing up all those stairs."

"Call me venerable again and I'm gonna kick you down those stairs. Hasmond sent me out to tell you to quit with the workout before you tear a muscle again. Exercise is good, but if you take it too far all you're going to do is hurt yourself."

Garren made a face. "Some things you have to learn the hard way, I guess," he muttered, picking up the skin again.

"You already smashed your fist up on that pillar last year. If that didn't learn you, nothing will. Oh," she added as an afterthought, "Hasmond also wanted me to tell you that there's a young lady looking for you in the village. Pretty little thing; has hair like you. Know her, by any chance?" She asked when Garren dropped the canteen.

"What? Why didn't you say so in the first place?" He demanded, pulling the cord free that had been holding his hair back.

"Must have slipped my mind," she said smugly. "What with the venerable memory and all, there's bound to be some holes in it somewhere."

"Gawwh…" Giving up, Garren hopped off of the edge of the platform, feet sinking into the rich earth as he landed. Pushing his way through the undergrowth he stumbled out onto the path.

Pebbles poked and jabbed at the soles of his feet as he jogged, but after the past few years spent on the splintery wood of the platform he hardly took any notice of it. Emerging out of the woods, he paused on the outskirts of the village to survey it with some measure of fondness. He'd come here once or twice before with Dart long ago, and time eternal had changed the coastal village little since then. It may have come to depend a little less on the fish and a little more on the goods merchant ships brought from the mainland, but the houses were still built on struts out over the water, with narrow catwalks and wharves making a walkway from door to door. Shallow canoes and dories were docked in the shade, out of the damaging sun. There were more houses than there once had been for sure, and more than once the better part of the village had had to be rebuilt in the wake of one of those damaging tropical storms that ravaged the coasts in the hot summer months, but it still retained the familiarity of the past years.

A small crowd had gathered on the arm of the wharf nearest to him, all talking and gesturing excitedly. Amid the riot of color that was the islanders he could now and then pick out a glimpse of black, tastefully accented with silver thread. Despite himself he shook his head knowingly. Expecting Nova to change out of a Ularian dress was like waiting for a rain in the desert; it happened rarely and only out of absolute necessity.

At the moment she was speaking in earnest to a squat, vastly muscled man with short cropped hair. Hasmond was in his middle years; flecks of grey had only just begun to appear at his temples and in his beard. He stroked it now with broken nailed fingers as he spoke, though the words were lost upon Garren at such a distance. Nova appeared to be listening attentively but she was twisting a lock of hair anxiously around her index finger the way she always did when she was impatient. When her eyes flicked away from Hasmond's face Garren raised his hand, giving a little half-wave to catch her attention. Without missing a word of the conversation she nodded, indicating that he join them.

What is she doing here? Garren wondered as he started across the catwalk. Did something happen in Ulara? His breath caught in his throat for a moment, but came back slowly as he thought it through. No, Nova wouldn't be half so calm if something had happened to their home. She could be surprisingly emotional at times, not made of ice like some people whom he could name. So what then?

As he came into earshot Hasmond was shaking his head. "No, the mainland temples haven't made any attempts to establish themselves here. Heck, beyond a few letters sent with some of the merchant sailors, they've pretty much ignored us." He leaned back, scratching the back of his head as he grinned. "Anyway, why would they bother? We're just a backwater port filled with people who have backward ideas and shout 'HAA!' a lot." He twisted his head around as Garren approached. "Oh, there you are kid. Thought Mary must have fallen down those steps or something, you took so long getting here."

"I see." Nova nodded her thanks to Hasmond, then brushed past him to grab Garren rather firmly by the elbow. Still calling out thanks over her shoulder, she steered him very firmly back along the wharf, away from the little crowd. When they had gone far enough, she pulled him down slightly so that she could speak in his ear.

"Is there anywhere moderately private we can go? There's a lot we need to discuss."

"Uh…the platform, I guess." He gestured toward the dimming horizon. "People don't usually bother going up there after dark unless there's a meeting or something."

"Good." She released his elbow. "Go on, then. Lead the way."

Earlier that day some of the younger students had been around to tidy up the platform. This generally included clearing away fallen branches or leaves and changing the oily rags on the torches. They sprung crackling to life as Garren went from one to the next, lighting them from the tongue of flame sitting in the palm of his hand. The dark deck gradually lightened, until when Garren at last let his own flame die out the platform had become a spot of golden light, supported by struts over the rocky shallows.

Nova sat on the edge of the deck, letting her legs dangle out into open space as she watched the churning surf below. Until now her experience with the sea had been brief and rather fleeting; the cold frigid waters surrounding Millie Seasue had been cold an uninviting. Here though, the tropical water was almost as warm as a bath. Making a mental note to go swimming, or at least for a quick wade if the chance came, she sidled over as Garren crouched down next to her, balanced on the balls of his feet.

"You look like you've been doing well."

Garren shrugged, staring out to see. "The people are nice here. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff they taught me."

"That's good." Picking a piece of bark off of the strut she dropped it, watching it fall. "Everyone's on edge back home. We haven't heard anything about what's been going on since the last time you paid us a call."

"What?" He looked over at her sharply, blowing the hair out of his eyes. "What's going on with Dart?"

"I was hoping that maybe you'd know." She shook her head. "You know what he's like when it comes to keeping in touch. He could be dead for all we know. Not that he is or anything-" she added hastily, catching the look on his face, "-I just mean that we've been getting worried, that's all."

"What about Tygris? Can't he tell you anything?"

"He's a dragon, Garren. He can't exactly go up to someone in the street and strike up a conversation. Besides, Charle doesn't want him taking any over-extended vacations anymore. Guarding the cygnet has become more important what with Ayrel loose and all. Speaking of which, he's on the other side of the island at the moment waiting to give us a lift back to the mainland."

"Huh?" Garren rocked back onto his heels, then fell on his bottom with a thump.

"We're going to try to find Dart and Ragnarok. I've been going crazy sitting around in Ulara, and quite frankly I'm sick of it. Besides, I missed you. You have no idea how boring it can get when you have no one around to laugh at for falling into a fountain."

Garren flushed at the comment. "Hey, I only did that once."

"Twice at least. And that was while you were sober. I've lost count of the other ones." The torch overhead spluttered as the breeze gusted suddenly, sending sparks swirling out over the water. Nova searched through the pockets of her dress and pulled out a wooden clip and twisted her arms awkwardly behind her head as she twisted her hair into a knot. "In any case, we're going to have to look at leaving sometime early tomorrow morning. Tygris isn't overly anxious to get back and be told off by Caron and my mother, but he's a bit nervous about being away for too long too. Says that he'll try to keep an eye one u when he can, though. Besides, everyone back home will be glad to have some way of knowing what's going on, even if they won't admit it."

"I guess so." Rocking back and forth once he somersaulted over backwards away from the edge. Getting to his feet, he stretched. "Well, if we're leaving tomorrow then I have some things that I'd better take care of first. Do you need a place to stay?"

"I already have a room at the inn. Just come and get me before sunrise."

"Right." He started toward the stairs, then stopped. "Coming?"

"I'll stay up here for a while, if you don't mind. I like the sound of the ocean. Oh, and Garren? Go take a shower or something while you're at it."

"What?"

"You stink like sweat. There is no way you're getting on that dragon with me tomorrow if you smell like that." She turned away, watching the reflection of the torches on the heaving backs of the waves below.

"I'll keep that in mind."

She listened to Garren's retreating footsteps without looking back. Only when they had faded completely did she get to her feet, not bothering to shake the wrinkles out of her skirt. The wind was picking up slightly; the cool air was heavy with the sharp salt tang of ocean, mixed with the gentle perfume of flowers blooming further along the shore. What month was it anyway? Nova let out her breath with a sigh.

Overhead the Moon hung in the sky like an unspoiled pearl; the spider-like network of ridges crisscrossing the surface seeming to shift and shiver in the clear night air.

Bwe. Big contrast of length between the two chapters, ne? Oh well. Side stories aren't meant to be very long. So there you go. Nova and Garren are officially back in the running…

Poll Results?

Ragnarok takes it by a long shot. ^^ Dart and Garren are wandering back somewhere in second and third…well, I think Garren got a little mowed down along the way.

Garren: **laying on the floor twitching**

…methinks you may have glomped him a wee bit too hard Fifi. **Slaps herself** What am I saying? You can never glomp your favorite too hard! **Latches onto Garren's leg** ^-^