The next day's sun rose east over faraway hills, and shed the first rays of dazzling golden light over the Lavellan encampment. As it did every cloudless morning, light bounced fiercely off of the bare and stony cliff side that the northern edge of the camp nestled up to, and the veins of shimmery quarts in the rock caught fire, making the massive rise of rock glitter and spark like blazing gold.

It was a sight that Eilahnen had loved for as long as she could remember; her clan nomadically wandered the craggy plains inland of the Wounded Coast year after year, and the land had many beautiful views to offer. But the glittering bulwark of dazzling quartz had long been a special favorite, and whenever the clan found itself nestled again in its grassy clearing (the Keeper favored it because the cliff offered protection from the elements and potential hostilities both), Eilahnen made a point of rising with the dawn on many an occasion, so she could feast her eyes on the sparkling pillar.

That particular morning was no exception, and as the day began, more than a few people in the camp stopped their busywork to stare up at the cliff and sigh in contentment. But Eilahnen wasn't one of them. Despite the fact that she was already up and out of her aravel for the day, despite the fact that she sat directly facing the wall, she was utterly blind to the beauty that usually delighted her.

For the weaving circle, the day's lessons had started very early, and promised to be long. She and the others had gathered for the day at the crack of dawn, and had sat in their usual circle as Brierdahla gave them a lecture about the new tool they would be using to twist the ropes together. It was something she should have paid attention to, she knew, but Eilahnen had found she simply didn't care enough to summon the will. The words had gone in one ear and out the other.

Then again, she wasn't particularly surprised that she was having a hard time concentrating.

She'd had a virtually sleepless night, after her run-in with Elendren. Try as she had to let sleep claim her, she had tossed and turned for most of the night with an anger and uncertainty that she had never felt before—dogged with worries and doubts, questions she had no answers to. She'd risen that morning at her father's sympathetic prodding after only a couple hours of rest, and had dragged herself through the morning's tasks in an irritable fog.

Now she sat cross legged on the ground in her simplest brown dress, face paler than usual and hair unbrushed, with circles under her eyes only a fraction as dark as her stormy mood. She didn't see the lush green grass beneath her, or feel the warm wind tickling her hair around her face. She didn't hear the birds joyfully singing. It was a particularly beautiful morning; one of the first true days of spring. But on Eilahnen it was wasted. All she could see in her mind's eye was a taunting honey-colored stare, and all she could feel was the misery of doubt. Something inside her had shifted.

'Eilahnen, are you okay? What's happened to put you in such a foul mood?'

She shook her head as she felt the touch of Revassa's hand on her knee, took in her concerned stare, and bit off a sigh.

The sun had properly risen as her mother had given her demonstration, and upon her conclusion the class had been broken into pairs. The wooden ropemakers had been passed around, and the air had filled with that easy communal blend of idle chatter, peppered with frustrated sighs and the occasional muttered oath when someone had too much trouble with their strands. Eilahnen's mother was a cheerful woman, but usually a strict teacher; this morning, however, she had fallen into absorbed conversation with Elora, another senior weaver, and was paying her students little mind. And so the pace of the day's lesson was easy and relaxed, and it had been the perfect atmosphere for Eilahnen to slip into another bout of silent stewing.

But no longer. Her friend had sucked her out of her reverie as one sucks their foot out of a bog, and she pressed the ridge of her palm to her brow as she looked around, trying to shake free of her thoughts. Revassa had done her best to man the ropemaker by herself, and the somewhat questionable progress was now lying in her lap, temporarily forgotten.

'Eilahnen, answer me. Eilahnen!' Revassa was starting to sound a bit cross herself, shaking Eilahnen's knee vigorously, eyebrows hiking higher and higher up her forehead.

This time, she did sigh. 'I'm sorry, Revassa. I'm kind of groggy this morning...I hardly slept last night,' she admitted.

Sympathy instantly replaced irritation, and the dark-haired elf leaned in to put a hand on Eilahnen's forehead. 'It may be more than that,' she cautioned. 'You look really awful this morning.'

Eilahnen laughed weakly. 'Thank you very much for noticing.'

Revassa rolled her eyes in turn. 'I'm not insulting you, delav'en. Only telling the truth. What's happened to upset you so badly?'

Eilahnen shrugged off the minor insult, but wasn't sure how to reply. Should she be truthful, and if so, to what extent?

She had just made a decision and had opened her mouth to reply, when she caught some distant movement from the corner of her eye. She turned her head to see what is was...and there was the man himself. Elendren was striding across the clearing about thirty feet from their circle, and just as she'd recognized him, he had stopped in his tracks and turned to look right at her. Her mouth clicked shut and her eyes narrowed into a fierce glare as they took each other in.

'It was him', she snarled, and Revassa whipped her head around to see who she was talking about. Eilahnen hadn't looked away from the hunter for even a second since she'd spotted him, and that was just the way he'd wanted it, she was sure. It was obvious to her that he had passed through this particular side of the clearing just to goad her with his presence. Soon, she was sure of it; as they stared each other down, his mouth pulled into a taunting smirk, and he winked at her. Then he raised his hand in a mock salute, turned on his heel, and continued on his way.

Instantly seething afresh, she turned again to face her friend, who was looking very confused.

'I thought you said he was supposed to be nice', she said through gritted teeth.

'Who, Elendren?' Revassa looked dismayed. 'He is nice. I don't understand. What—'

Eilahnen snorted, cutting her off. 'Sure. He came up to me last night while I was finishing up for the day, and started a little conversation. Let's just say that it didn't go well.' She grumbled, shaking her head. 'A perfect stranger...the nerve!' Revassa looked as if she wanted to ask more questions, but Eilahnen hurried on.

'Anyway, nice is not a word I would choose to describe that man. I'd be more inclined to use mor'salin'en masa.'

'Eilahnen!' Revassa was agape. 'I'm shocked at you! You don't even know Elendren.' Slender hands went to ball at her hips, and dark brows crumpled.

'What could he have possibly said, to make you so angry?'

This gave Eilahnen pause. Before he had shown up, she had been about to tell Revassa everything—not only what Elendren had said, but about the truth in his words, and the unhappy situation that she had chosen to stay in. But now, doubt started to creep up her spine, making her squirm in discomfort; what if she confided in Revassa, and she started mocking her, too? What if she reacted the way Elendren had, and told her she was foolish? Eilahnen had many acquaintances in her life with whom she passed pleasant conversation, but Revassa was quickly becoming her first true friend, and she suddenly found she was afraid to lose the girl's favor.

Ultimately, her worry stole her confidence, and she averted her gaze from Revassa's searching green eyes. The silence stretched on before she finally spoke.

'I don't want to talk about it.'

'But, Eilahnen...'

She shook her head fiercely. 'I'm sorry, I just can't right now.'

Revassa clearly wanted to argue, but fell silent when Eilahnen raised her head to meet her gaze. 'Come on, then,' she sighed, tucking back some long flyaways and reaching for the ropemaker in her lap.

'Let's figure this thing out. I know you didn't hear a word your mother said—I'll run you through the basics.'

Eilahnen sighed in relief and nodded gratefully, glad for the change in subject.

'I'm listening.' She flashed her friend a weak smile, and tucked back her own hair. 'In fact, I'm all ears.'

'Ha, ha. Very funny.'

As another day began to wind down, and the sun to follow suit, the bustle of activity in the Lavellan encampment took on a more relaxed and easy pace. For most Dalish, sundown marked the beginning of the respite for another day's toil, and clan Lavellan was no exception; most of the work was done for the day, and soon people would look for more leisurely ways to occupy their time.

As the sky went from blue to dark pink, this was evident everywhere; the Hahren emerged from the tent beside his aravel in which he held his daily communion, and called out as he spotted a friend returning from border patrol. As they walked off arm in arm towards the camp's central fire, two young mothers with babes strapped to their backs talked and laughed, finishing up their washing in two large wooden buckets. A scout came trailing around the cliffside from the west to announce the hunters' return, and a minute later said group broke through the trees and headed to the center of the camp, dragging their kills behind them on bark sheaves with rope reins. They were bringing the day's bounty to the Hearthmistress, who would divvy up the meat and take what she needed for tinctures. Along the easternmost stretch of the camp, the Herdmaster could be seen bringing the halla back from their grazing; his apprentice, the elder Sabrae sister, trailed along beside him.

To Eilahnen, they all looked very small.

She was watching the familiar proceedings from high above, about a hundred feet, perched cross-legged on the edge of the rocky clifftop. This was nothing unusual; for an able-bodied person, it was a brief hike through a steep and rocky pass to the top of the cliffside, and it was a trek that she enjoyed making every so often for the view and isolation it afforded her. The two were equally valuable, in Eilahnen's opinion.

Alone atop the cliff, Eilahnen reveled in the cool wind sweeping her hair clear of her face, ruffling her dress. The first creeping indigo fingers of night were gliding far above her head like an enormous celestial hood, and when she looked directly out to the coast, she could watch the blood-red sun crash slowly into the glittering sea. Staring at that breathtaking view, the whole world seemed to be shrouded in sacred silence, and although the jovial voices of her clan floated up on the evening air to meet her, she couldn't hear them.

Finally alone, Eilahnen had succumbed to the thoughts buzzing in her head. With no other distractions, those thoughts were ushering her to different places. Different times.

What did you think? I always appreciate feedback!