Forenote:

I will be starting something new for myself now, something called 'forenotes'. It'll be a quick note relating to the story, something like a preview or warning, although not quite. It'll be a sentence or too that hints some contents of the story, or on some days it would just be purely warnings. I like the name (forenotes, forenotes, forenotes, it's catchy, is it not?) so that's what they'll be. And if ANYBODY – ANYBODY – tries to take this idea, it's their neck. Really.

The actual forenote: Chapter 9 is, sadly enough, full of sadness. The beginning is pleasant with sadness slipped in, the middle drama with sadness slipped in, and the end is just purely sadness. It's brilliant! Ooh, the grimness…

Responses:

TrudiRose – To your little scruple about the gypsy-nomadic thing… gypsies are known for their traveling, but it's usually within a single country, or perhaps even two countries. Otherwise it'd be very difficult for a whole pack of people to survive traveling to the other side of the world, and that's precisely what Lieron had been wanting to do. And it is true that he asked Azalea if she could go with them after they wed, but if you take it into a certain perspective, you realize that the entire tribe consider one another family. Azalea couldn't even imagine leaving everyone for the sake of traveling, because she didn't share the same dream and shared one that was quite the opposite: living a domestic life with three children, growing old with the faces she had grown up with… she was that kind of person. And Lieron knew Azalea couldn't wait… she was young and eager, and Lieron knew he'd be traveling for a long time.

:reads above: Wow, I should've included everything more clearly, shouldn't I? But I figured I had enough details ((I even included colors!), so I didn't really feel that I should've added that. But I guess I should've…

And your next inquiry was rather interesting as well, and something I had previously thought of once or twice while writing this story. But Eszti had been forced to explain everything to Clement (excluding her true name) to keep from being a true prisoner, and that included her friends (although she didn't use their names either). She had to explain why she tried to take the horse, and as you know, it's mostly her friends' fault -D But coming to the point, Clement knew that Eszti's friends could've guessed what happened to her, and being panicked they'd notify the camp, and Eszti's absence would be explained. So basically, they could barge into the palace and try to steal Eszti back, but they'd die before reaching her ((it would be considered a royal offense and an attempted robbery – and perhaps kidnapping, since Eszti is thought to be a noble guest)). Interesting, isn't it, how everything seems to work out in the royalty's favor?

flyinghigh808 – Omg, thank you! I'm glad that I didn't make an arse of myself with this, and I hope I don't disappoint you anytime in the future ((although my updating rate has probably already accomplished that for me)). I don't think I'd be encouraged enough to continue this fic had it not been for supportive readers like you -)

Arein - I'm glad I'm not the only one likely to swoon for Clement -D And I wouldn't say that she's mad in love with him at the moment… no, she knows she's slowing falling ((painfully falling)), but doesn't want to. And being truthful, her love will not end up unrequited, although that would make an excellent plot :is whacked with giant planks by editors for revealing that: However, I will not guarantee a happy ending -D

Note: I am savoring a time when all my readers are still fond of the direction in which I am going… this is because I know there will be a time when everybody will hate me. Oh yes, believe me, every Eszti-fan will hate my guts, lmao. And I look forward to it ((yes, I am very insane)).

Holly – Lol, don't worry… so long as I draw breath ((or still have Internet)), this fic isn't going anywhere. Wait… it will be going somewhere because there is a plot, but it won't be moving… like ending… before its time… whatever! You get my point!

chandni – We meet online again, Mimi :grins: And I certainly will update until I reach the Epilogue ((which will certainly be uploaded)), because otherwise I'd feel guilty that I'm depriving you people of my wonderful fic… lmao, just kidding, but I would get guilty. And remorseful. But no worries… this fanfic may take a while to get updated, but at least it'll be finished ((:grumbles: unlike some other wonderful fanfics in the world…))

LindyLou78 - You thought that was sad! Wow… you people will not make it through this chapter. It even got me a tad depressed, since I am strangely empathetic ((I cry for any sad movie… Bruce Almighty was one – hey! stop laughing! Grace's prayer was sad, okay!)). But yes, I admit, Azalea's story was a sad one. And lol, I'm really sorry to say that you're right, in a way… this story does not have a good ending or a sad ending… it's up to the reader to decide. As you can tell, Eszti is torn between two worlds, and she cannot have both at one time.

Clavel – Thank you! I like sweet… it's fluffy, and fluffy is undiluted sugary-goodness.

P.S: You're welcome, but know that you wrote it, and everything LM's earned is something you brought about.

blueforest – Bimbos are hilarious, I agree, and for that I shall bring her about in times of drama and monotony, just to watch something funny happen. She will be very jealous, and that makes it funnier. But sorry to say, only a mention of her is in this chapter, although she will certainly be starring in the next -D

Should I ruin another dress of hers? A prettier one, maybe? It's your decision!

kerricarri – You seem rather happy today, don't you, lol? And don't worry, blah is an excellent word! I use it on a decent basis as well, especially in frustration or times that deserve a "Yeah. Great. Whatever." Well, someone did manage to flame my fic, but only because she thought gypsies shouldn't wear purple. DOES ANYONE BLOODY CARE WHETHER THEY WEAR PURPLE OR TOILET PAPER! It's my fantasy fic, and I can do whatever I bloody want with it!

:sighs: I'm sorry for the outburst, but her flame was so pointless and was soooo far from constructive criticism that I exploded. It was POINTLESS. You can view it, but you'll just wonder why she has to be so… unfair. Unjust. Inconsiderate.

And I hate those ideal, stereotypical fairytales! They have no practicality at all! Nobody gets sad, nobody gets mad, and nobody dies! Ahh… nobody dies! That's what unbalanced me! No balance! But this could hopefully break that stereotype with this fic, and that's pretty much my general goal. And I'm planning to create a revised, more sensible version of another popular fairytale, but I won't say… I don't want the idea to get out ((it's a very original idea, actually)).

mistyqueen – Lol, here's the next update! But I didn't include much of Marcella in this fic ((to be honest, I didn't include her at all :smiles apologetically:)) but it focuses on other aspects of the story, so I think it's necessary. But her story's not done… oh no, it's far from that, lol.

-

Chapter 9: Farewell

-

My hands were aching beyond description, and I was sure that the flesh was now so tender that it would start bleeding in a matter of minutes. But I ignored the swelling of my palm as I gripped the stone pestle, grinding the astirae flowers even harder. And for a precious moment, I felt like I was home again, working on a new concoction that I heard had miraculous effects. The potion I was making, however, was one I had made many times before, but I needed its aid now more than ever, and so I ignored the continuous tensing of my shoulders.

I had been grinding the astirae into a colorless, glutinous powder for a little past an hour, but that was only how it felt. Maybe it was longer, since I had been entertaining myself with the countless fairy tales I had favored so much. But I was grateful for the opportunity to make the emotionally-soothing astirae tea, so I dared not complain. I had fortunately gotten permission to use the royal healer's tower and stores to make the astirae tea from Clement, and I had been working at it for a good part of the morn.

It was getting late in the morning, but I had been here since the early dawn. White-gold light was now streaming through the tower window, and I had opened it halfway earlier to let in wafts of air from the coasts, which weren't far from Arvette. At the moment, I had prepared the bubbling hot water for the tea, and I had already added the lentils, saffron, and dried chamomile flower heads; I was merely preparing the viscous powder that required a good handful of astirae flowers. It was not too easy a task, but Lieron needed it, even if he didn't entirely deserve it, I thought with some bitterness.

The locks on the wooden chamber door clanged and rattled, and the door opened to reveal Clement, who was smiling lazily in a hunter's outfit of sorts. He glanced at the herbal ingredients scattered on my working table for a brief moment, and then smiled wider at me in greeting.

"Been up long?" he asked, taking a seat by my table. I did not look at him, but only concentrated on my concoction. If I distracted myself now, I would never finish.

"You wouldn't believe me if I explained," I croaked, stopping for a moment to mix around the powder, and then I started up my pounding. But of course, I thought with a little exhaustion, my last cup of water was – what? 15 hours ago? No, wait, that was wine… I groaned.

"Oh, I would believe it… I've already guessed," Clement responded. I stopped for a split second to raise my eyebrows and replied, "Going out hunting today, aren't you? So long as you don't take Lieron with you, I won't snap."

"It is the other way around, Rozenta. He invited me hunting today, because he'd be leaving tomorrow. He didn't tell you?"

I sucked in my breath sharply; he was leaving tomorrow? And he would barely be here today? How could I find the guts to apologize for that dreadful story before then, and more so find the time to give him this potion? I wasn't making this tea for nothing.

"Tomorrow? Are you sure?" I resumed my steady pounding; thud, scrape, thud, scrape.

"He told me himself. What have you been killing yourself making anyway, Rozenta?" He looked curiously at the series of ingredients scattered on the table, picking up few dried chamomile flower heads and examining it closely.

"A tea," I said in a strained voice, hastening my pounding. "For Lieron. He didn't take the news of Azalea's death well."

Clement was silent for a moment.

"No, I'd imagine not. The tea would do him good, I suppose."

"Would do him good? It'd do him more than a miracle… rather, a tenfold of miracles. This sort of tea is very strong, you know."

"I trust you then, so long as you're sure this won't kill him. Just make sure he doesn't go so happy that he forgets to weep for Azalea. A man is nothing without his grief."

This knocked a laugh out of me, and my task of pounding and scraping and lifting and pounding again became a little easier to bear.

"A man is nothing without his grief? Is that so… I always thought you were proud, bold creatures that would never show their feminine side. I suppose I was wrong."

Clement sniggered and watched me pound and scrape and lift and pound again for a long moment, his look softening. He raised his eyes and watched my face, and I subconsciously found myself not minding it. I denied it however, but my subconscious mind was choosing to let my mind wander.

He's so different now, thought a twittery, girlish part of me. He used to be so vexing but now… he's just too sweet.

The hand gripping my pestle stopped, and I mentally raged at myself for allowing my mind to wander into such dangerous territories. This rage went on for half a minute, and afterwards a single thought floated through my mind: By the light of Grace… I am falling for him.

By impulse, my head whipped around, and I glared at him, annoyed.

"Stop staring at me like that, you tyrant," I snapped, bristling and resuming my task. He didn't answer, but only smirked swiftly and made his way to the door. I did not stop pounding again to acknowledge his leaving, and he showed no response to this.

"I'll be off hunting with Lieron, and I'll be back tonight. Look for me then." He did not smile, and only left without a word. The door clicked close, and only then did my pestle stop. But it only stopped long enough to let me say one thing mentally.

I am not falling for you, Clement, and I will not look for you. Oh, by the light, I am not falling for you!

And so it started up again: thud, scrape, thud, scrape, and thud again. The One-Eyed Crone, a story my mother loved telling, played itself in my head, and no thoughts of Clement pestered me for the rest of the day.

-

Clement and Lieron had returned early from hunting that day, though they did come back in the evening. I had long finished the astirae tea by then and was only aiding the kitchen cooks (along with Eder – Elaine had been given the task of Marguerite's right-hand serving lady, so it wasn't surprising that Elaine had barely any time to spend with Eder and myself that night, save for a few hellos). Marcella had come into the kitchens and told me that Clement was requesting my presence in the parlor. I had sighed – though it sounded exasperated, it was actually one of remorse – and left to the parlor with Lieron's astirae tea in a silver goblet with a black embroidered napkin on top, just because it had a pretty effect.

Clement and Lieron were deep in conversation when I arrived, and both were tan and merry after their hunt. Lieron looked considerably happier than when I had met him last, but those hollows under his eyes were still there, and he was still considerably quieter, but Clement and I knew he was getting better. And the tea would only top off all things good.

"Rozenta, hello," Lieron said cheerfully, welcoming me with a hearty smile. "Good to see you again. You're doing well, I trust?"

"Of course, Lieron Dairin," I laughed good-naturedly. "It was only yesterday when we spoke last."

"You didn't look for me, Rozenta," Clement said lazily, an idle smile on his face. Mines faltered and I only looked him in the eye for a second before deftly dropping my gaze.

"I was busy," I countered gravely, no trace of a grin on my face. Clement noticed this and frowned, but I had already turned to Lieron and had graciously handed him the silver goblet.

"Here, Lieron, take this. It's a very warming tea I made for you this morning," I offered nervously, knowing it was more than just a tea. "I guessed that it would be a decent way to say 'I'm sorry' for telling you of… Azalea."

A shadowed look passed over Lieron's face for a fleeting second, but it was very swift. He still wore his smile as he just-as-graciously took the goblet and pulled the napkin from over it. He breathed in a waft of the concoctions, and instantly his eyes brightened.

"I thank you, Rozenta, but you didn't have to make it for me. I could've made myself a tea, you know."

Not an astirae tea, you can't, I thought to myself, but I didn't voice this. Instead, I said, "It wasn't a bother, but I won't drop this sweet nature of mine so long as you down all of it."

He grinned. "A sweet Rozenta is a rather disturbing thing, is it not?"

I laughed, and Clement's rich laughing tones joined in as well. I flashed him a smile without knowing, and then I mentally gasped in horror as I realized what I had done.

Lieron noticed the rather sentimental exchange between Clement and I (although I wasn't doing it voluntarily, I swear!), and his eyes grew smoky.

"What do we have here, eh? Think you're fit to be queen, Rozie?"

I gasped and made a move to strike him, but playfully so. Clement watched our banter with what I suspect was bliss on his face.

"Well," I said hastily, my black eyes flashing dangerously with anger as I changed the subject. "You should've told me you were leaving tomorrow, Lieron. I didn't know."

Lieron frowned. "Nobody told you sooner? Well, I thought it would've gotten to you earlier, but I suppose not." Then he finally took a sip of the astirae tea, and the deep breath that followed seemed relieved beyond words. "This is an excellent tea, by the way, Rozenta. Warms me from my head to my toes."

I nodded slowly in gratitude for the compliment. At least I knew that I had done the potion right, and that it was having a rather satisfying effect on his mood.

"Thank you, Lieron; I didn't think the tea would be that appetizing. I am not a fan of tea. Well, I do not know what you and the Prince have planned next," I said, "but I shall be getting back to the kitchens, now. Cook Brinya promised me two servings of the calyum berry cake she is presently making if I am of any assistance. I will see you tomorrow, Lieron, before you leave."

And with a final nod, I turned and headed out the parlor door, but didn't notice Clement follow behind me.

-

I jumped when I felt someone suddenly grip my arm in the hallway, for I had been too engrossed in my own thoughts. I whipped around and saw that I faced him directly. I flushed unconsciously and wrenching my arm from his grip, I made to hurry back to the kitchens. He had a strong grip, however, so I was wrenching to know avail whatsoever.

"Are you mad at me, Rozenta?" he asked suddenly as I struggled against his grip. "What did I do to deserve your wrath then, if that is the case?"

I stopped fighting for a moment to look him in the eye, searching for any sincerity. And I wasn't disappointed; his eyes held stretches of feeling for me, but I didn't like this. This scared me, and I knew that if he continued like this, I'd find it hard to avoid falling for him. If I didn't fall for him already.

"Why do you care?" I demanded brusquely, my face emptying itself of expression.

"You called me 'Prince' back there, Rozenta! That isn't normal! Why have you been avoiding me? I thought we were on decent terms!" Clement exclaimed, his voice rising with every word. I had the vague feeling that a nosy little maid or two would eavesdrop on us sooner or later and start up new rumors, but that was the last thing I needed to worry about right now; and Clement was not making things any easier for me.

"I can call you whatever I like, Prince," I snapped formally, wrenching once more. But the grip had gone tighter, and it was starting to hurt. I winced and blinked a little from the pain of it, but overall I defiantly ignored the fact that I would probably be getting a dandy little bruise out of this.

"Rozenta," his voice was surprisingly desperate right now, and I refused to look him in the face. "Just answer me. Why are you mad at me?"

Silence reigned for a stretching moment, and I was thinking too hard for an excuse. And ironically, my brain was currently shutting itself off, and that was something that was highly inconvenient in a situation like this. I had stopped fighting while he was still pleading, and I paled. I could think of nothing to say, and I wouldn't dare say the truth. Oh no, I would've thrown myself into the sea before saying the truth, and the even sadder thing was that I wasn't even sure of what was the truth anymore. I couldn't tell the difference between the cold, hard truth and the little whims my sentimental side liked to fabricate.

An anticipating pause. And then –

"I am not mad at you, Clement. But you have no idea," and here I laughed mirthlessly, a cold, hollow sound that made my own flesh shiver. "Oh, by the light, you have absolutely no idea what I'm going through because of you. And I'm not going to tell you." (This answer was dreadfully vague because I couldn't exactly specify why I dreaded his presence so.)

My lips curled into a smile as Clement stared, dumbstruck, at me. I found his grip on my arm had slackened, and I took advantage of this. I wrenched my arm towards my chest and lifted my skirts, making it easier for me to run to the kitchens.

He called my name once, but I was too busy laughing like mad at my own stupidity to hear it.

-

The next dawning was rather depressing for me, and I began to miss home more enthusiastically than ever. It was as though coming to the castle had completely altered my life, and was killing me inside. I didn't believe for a second that I could actually have fallen for the Prince (as I was now resorting to calling him), and I found that to be a rather dangerous situation. Marguerite, for example, hated me much more than ever when she would ever see Clement looking at me in that funny way, and I knew for a fact that Clement's father, King Ignatius, would hate me also. King Ignatius loved the idea of Marguerite as queen, so I couldn't possibly please him, as un-Marguerite-like as I was.

And so, to get to the point, I was beyond miserable and I wept, yet again, for home.

That day also brought me saddening news: Lieron was leaving today. He was my one consolation through these past few days, as a fellow camp member, but I knew he couldn't stay. There was nothing here he had to stay, least of all to only satisfy my wants.

I could've asked him if I could travel with him only long enough to reach Arvette Forest, but I was sure that if I even bothered asking him, he'd only laugh and call me a silly little girl.

And so, it was with an unutterable dread that I dressed (into a grey-and-black gown, to express my mood) and hauled myself out of the refuge of my room. I had managed to steal a corner of quiet in the library, where I knew Marguerite (she was the last person I needed to see at a time like this) would never wander. My face was buried in a tragic, age-old story, but my mind was elsewhere.

Two familiar figures came into the library, one slender and tall and one plump and short. Frankly, I was avoiding them, but of course, I was currently avoiding everyone. It seemed that everybody was one the side of Clement and Lieron lately, and that I was always wrong. Eder and Elaine were among them: they thought that everything was going along fine, and that I had no reason to despair. And I was too tired to bother correcting them; the story was too long.

They found me, of course, and came over, their eyes gazing at me with concern. I sank into my seat and completely hid my face in my book, tears starting at the corners of my eyes. I heard a gasp – from Elaine, I would guess – and I felt a plump, snug arm come over my shoulders – from Eder – and someone rocked me back and forth. And the tears finally spilt, coming forth as sudden, silent, translucent streams.

"Oh, goodness, child," Eder scolded warmly, her voice sharp with motherly care. "Don't cry… Lieron Dairin is not worth all these tears."

"It's not that!" I cried out indignantly, my cry hoarse from tears. Eder and Elaine exchanged confused looks, and I heard Elaine whisper to Eder, "Then what?" I wanted to jump up and glare at them, but found I couldn't. They were being so kind to me right now, when I was breaking down, and I couldn't' possibly "thank" them in such an ungrateful way.

So I settled at protesting unnecessarily loud, and being unnecessarily brutal.

"Why would I cry over Lieron? He was being a selfish brute anyway, when he left Azalea! He should've waited until they were wed, and then he could go and see the world! Couldn't he have waited the few remaining months? But I don't cry over men!" I cried, the last being a semi-explosion. And I curled myself up, and let Eder hold me tighter, and let Elaine shush me with soothing words.

But I didn't listen to their rational explanations, I didn't want to care. I was tired of being rational, or waiting to return home for so long, of enduring the torment that Clement had so ruthlessly caused me! Oh, how I hated him! Why couldn't he see that his attempt at taming a free spirit was entirely in vain? Why couldn't he see that I was slowly deteriorating, waiting painfully to return home? Why couldn't he see?

And why could no one understand!

My tears grew stronger (although still very silent), my breath coming in quicker, less satisfying breaths. Maybe if I died, they'd understand what was happening to me. Maybe. Maybe if I killed myself – something drastic, but appealing at a moment like this – by holding back my breath long enough, they'd notice what they did. What Clement did. And what no one bothered to stop.

"So then, Rozenta dear, why do you cry?" Elaine asked gently, her voice full of harmonic desperation for my sake.

"Home, Elaine! Home!"

My tears began to cease, and my breath was lengthening, much to my disappointment. I wasn't strong enough to hold back my breath at the moment, and even if I was, I was too eager for their response to kill myself before I could get it. There was a deathly silence after my outburst, and Eder and Elaine shared grave looks. Finally, Eder gave me a brief, final hug and watched me sadly with her grim gaze.

"I know, Rozenta. But there's not much you can do about it."

Silence. Oooh, the powerful silence… nothing was said for about 5 minutes. Contemplation reigned all. But then Elaine spoke, quite suddenly, with a tender tone that did not match the stony look in her eyes. But even her eyes seemed softened with sadness.

"Do you really hate Sir Lieron that much, Rozenta? Do you?"

I replied slowly, my voice thick with guilt and remorse. "No, not really. That was only an outburst. A very unnecessary one." I sniffed once.

Eder scoffed suddenly, eyeing me with exasperation. "Then don't hate us when we tell you why we came. Sir Lieron and his Highness sent word that his Lordship – Lieron, I mean – is leaving. Now. They are at the front of the palace, on horses and in idle conversation."

My jaw dropped. Leaving? NOW? And I spent all this time crying! He was probably gone already, and I didn't even say goodbye! And I needed to see if the tea worked! How could I have been careless with the time? How!

"Now?" I asked Eder and Elaine in a small voice, losing hope is great quantities.

Elaine's frigid gaze widened. "Oh, hurry Rozenta! They'll be leaving soon! They might've already gone!"

I didn't need a second telling; Eder didn't flinch when I wrenched myself from her hold, which I did, and Elaine did not block me. In fact, the scary thing was that I barely faced any obstacles, or perhaps I did but was too preoccupied to notice. Either way, I got there fine, but with eyes red-rimmed, face pale and thin, and cheeks stained with dried tears. I must've looked a madwoman, for I frightened more than a handful of servants (and perhaps a noble here and there, and maybe even a guest, but I wouldn't know…) but eventually I made it to the front, but the sight was not one that greeted me with jollity.

Lieron was already riding away, with a soldier escort or two riding closely behind, and he was soon becoming just a miniscule speck in the distance. Clement had not gone with him, but had simply watched him ride at the front of castle, on his grey (white and black at the same time, like the winds) stallion, Aeolus. Clement watched him go with a far-off, distant, mixed with remorse.

I walked up behind him, biting my lip and staring into the distance through which Lieron rode. Where hysteria was, there was only exhaustion. Where there had been a fighting torrent of feelings, there was only a hollow emptiness, the sad kind of emptiness that though it was nothing, it still gave off traces of what it had. I could still feel the pit of sadness, but it was barely there; just a shadow of sadness. I could still sense the hollow of anger, but I scarce could feel it; it, too, was a shadow. In me, nothing was real. I was empty.

Clement turned, horse and all, and faced him, his expression utterly unreadable. Thick, developing clouds of thunder were rolling onto the dreary firmament, and they gave off rumbling noises that indicated the coming of a storm. I still stared into the distance, still clutched inwardly for the feelings I once possessed.

Was this how Elaine always felt, I wondered off-handedly, having no emotions? But I was being silly; of course she had emotions, but she rarely expressed them, and she never expressed them through her eyes.

"You should've come earlier," Clement said to me, his tone unreadable. "Then perhaps you would've said good-bye."

Silence. A pause. Then –

"Perhaps. But it's over, he's gone, he won't come back. Not for a while. It doesn't matter." I sighed, and where there was no emotion, exhaustion filled every bit of it.

I was tired, and cold, and hungry. Oh yes, very hungry. My breakfast was not substantial for even a few hours, and I had no lunch at all. And now it was coming to dinnertime, and I was ready to cry from everything. Everything. Hunger, confusion, remorse, homesickness, and just plain sadness. But I kept calm and looked at Clement with serious eyes.

"Will you walk or ride?" He asked suddenly, his mood brightening. I stared at him in confusion, and then I glanced at Aeolus, who was named after the god of winds. I had seen him ride before, and I had been impressed; he was an excellent horse. But to ride him right behind Clement? No, it was a ludicrous idea, and I was not a weak, hapless little lass.

"I will walk, thank you," I said defiantly, turning strictly on my heel. Hunger still had me a bit dazed, and sadness was burning like a furnace inside of me, but I wanted none of it. I would return to my quarters, to brood in the desperate silence, and perhaps to die of starvation. Yes, that was a rather tempting idea. Perhaps I would try it…

I walked, like the ghost that was Rozenta and a shadow of what Eszti had once been, in silence to the guests' building. Clement stared after me, or so I felt as I walked on, but said nothing.

That night I actually managed to make it to my quarters, and although I was sure I had fainted, I had fallen into a cold, stony sleep. And no one disturbed me.

Afterthoughts: I have officially (in a way) decided to stop using Author's Notes! Hooray for me! I was simply in the mood to start something new… the forenote will be called the 'Forenote' and the end note will be called 'Afterthoughts'. Is that too hard to digest? And remember, this idea is officially (in a way) copyrighted ©.