If Cornelia had to compile a list of things she hated most in life, the first point would have probably been mud; and Haven was nothing but mud. It looked as if the last rain had fallen a few days ago, but the too-used paths were still slick with it. It clung to everything and everyone. Elyon didn't seem to mind, but then again, there was very little Elyon minded in the world. Cornelia could be as cynical and bitter about the world as she wanted, but it all seemed a little brighter with Elyon at her side.

Even now as they trod down the paths of Haven to the makeshift stables her sister was humming a playful tune, she couldn't place it exactly, but it seemed to make her step easier. She could use it this morning; she hadn't slept well. Visions of what seemed to be her own image had berated her lack of intelligence and beauty. Indeed, the pseudo-Cornelia was herself without any of her real physical flaws. The slight gathering of fat around her hips that she could never shake was gone and instead migrated to fill her petite bosom, her lips were perfectly even, and her hair lay flat and splendid, shining like brushed gold in the light.

She didn't even look real, she thought, reflecting back; like a vengeful goddess come to haunt her steps. Maybe that's what it would have taken to catch her husband's eye. Elyon seemed to notice her down mood, and asked her,

"What's wrong? I know it's kinda dirty here, but it's not so bad!" she gestured out past the camp to the grass plains, where their verdant green stalks swayed gracefully in the wind.

"Just tired." she told her.

Her and Elyon shared all their thoughts, unless it concerned her brother. For whatever reason, Elyon thought her brother could do no wrong. As far was Elyon was concerned, her and Phobos had a very private, but wholesome marriage. To tell her otherwise; well. It Elyon's only real fault, but any criticism of her brother would somehow wind up as a slight against herself. And honestly, Cornelia had always felt it a problem she should fix on her own, even if she was failing so far.

Lady, her horse, looked as unhappy to be here as she was. She had never left the Escanor estate before, where she and Cornelia would ride in the covered arena and on the very rare occasion along the path behind the manor to the dry creek bed that ran along the length of the property line. Beautiful blue lilies, whose petals shined and shimmered like crystals grew on the craggy edge of the ravine. She loved them, the only thing she had ever enjoyed going outside to see, but she could never bring herself to pick them and put them in a vase at home. Or uproot them and plant them in Phobos' garden. No...they had belonged out there and to take them away from their home would be wrong.

She had never really liked Phobos' garden. She didn't mind the roses, which had their own dedicated spot in the center, but the rest of the garden held more exotic fares that she didn't find as pretty. Dark red amaryllises that spiked at the ends like dripping blood, huge thorny vines that sprouted little pink flowers that seemed innocent enough but were highly toxic, and huge, black stalks of foxgloves that didn't grow upright but instead twisted in on themselves, forming strange twisted masses of flowers. Her lilies wouldn't have looked right within all that.

Lady was huffing in displeasure, she was used to having her own stall with a clean wooden floor. Here, was in a small coral with Adira and Spirit, Elyon's new palomino. She had spent the evening before brushing him carefully, and he shone like pale, rose gold in the light. Adira had herself tucked into a corner away from the others. Lady and Adira had never gotten along, constantly trying to one-up the other as mares tended to do. Lady was always trying to sneak a nip on Adira when she could, and now that they were together she could see the white mare had quite a few bite marks on her.

"Aw! Poor Addie!" Elyon cooed, rubbing Adira's roughed up nose.

"You're so mean." Cornelia told Lady, who merely stamped in the mud as an answer. Adira was good horse, even if her owner wasn't as enjoyable. She was a very mild animal, happy to lazily trod wherever directed. Lady could be like that too, when someone was on her, but was quite a handful when she didn't have a rider to watch out for.

Drake had already gotten the saddles on Lady and Spirit for their trip to the lake. Elyon had never rode Spirit before, but she had ridden Lady before and managed to climb up on him easily enough. He was a little fussy, but Elyon wasn't a demanding rider by any means and simply sat there, stroking him behind the ears.

"He's so nice!" Elyon told her, looking even happier than when she had first received him.

She hadn't tucked her skirts in right when she climbed up, and they were hiked up around her knees, but her riding boots were long enough it didn't matter. No one had taught her to ride side-saddle either, and besides the only one they had was on Lady. She looked like a child her father had propped up on her first horse, but the thought only made Cornelia smile.

She had just mounted Lady, when a voice from behind startled her the both of them.

"Good afternoon ladies,"

It was Caleb Hansen, come to escort them after all it seemed. It pained her to admit, that yes, he did look much better without the layers of dirt. He looked troubled, though. His eyebrows just ever so slightly furrowed in that if she hadn't been staring in such an unladylike manner she might not have noticed.

"Er. I didn't know we were riding there." he commented, his hand rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

"Don't you know how?" she asked, a little annoyed. Every man should know how to ride, she thought.

"Well, yeah." he said, an incredulous tone entering his voice. He looked over at Drake, who had mounted up Adira, bareback. Cornelia rolled her eyes at him, horses were meant to be ridden with saddles, she thought harshly. She imagined Phobos wouldn't be pleased if he came looking and she was gone, not that he ever rode her. And, why, was he coming along if Caleb was already going with them?

"It's just, I don't have a horse." he said, a hint of pink creeping unto his cheeks.

"Oh no!" Elyon despaired. "It's quite far for a walk."

An idea floated into Cornelia's mind, but it wouldn't be right. It would look bad, improper, silly. She couldn't. And yet...

"You can ride Lady with me." she said, locking gazes with the man. He didn't look shocked, but instead, amused? It was her turn to blush now. She was imagining the look on her husband's face if she suggested that to him.

"Of course, my lady." he said, his tone light and teasing. He was making fun of her, behind that stupid grin, he must be. She felt her heart twist at the idea. She glanced over at Elyon to read her for any signs of displeasure but the girl seemed fine, giving Cornelia the smallest of smiles.

And just like that Caleb hoisted himself clumsily unto Lady, without the help of a saddle, behind her. She felt her eye twitch, this man would ride behind a woman? Wasn't he embarrassed, ashamed? He simply nestled into Lady, trying to find a steady spot to sit without an aid. Lady pinned her ears against her head at the added weight; attempting to roll her shoulders and force Caleb off. Lady was large enough to hold them both, she simply didn't want to.

"Stop that." she ordered, nudging her harshly. Lady stopped her rolling, but her ears remained pinned. Caleb settled in behind her, pressing up against her back. It was the closest she'd been to a man in quite some time. Her throat was closing up on itself, blocked by a tight, white heat.

Oh god, this is so wrong, she thought to herself, while simultaneously begrudging herself for not wearing something nicer. She had on a simple white and pink riding habit with big golden buttons and lace.

"Lady, huh?" asked, patting her rump even as the horse groaned and flicked her head in annoyance.

"This is Spirit! And that's Addie! But I guess her real name is Adira." Elyon chimed in. Adira didn't disturbed in the slightest to have a stranger on her and in fact was quite happily munching on some grass due to her lack of bridle.

"I had a horse going up, his name was Fred." Drake informed them.

"That's a terrible name for a horse!" Cornelia said, offended by the mere implication. Drake merely shrugged, and started guiding Adira out the stables and towards the lake. She prodded Lady into a slow trot, so Caleb wouldn't fall off.

Even if the journey's landscape had been more breathtaking than the simple wheatfields, Cornelia doubted she would have been able to pay attention to it. She could feel the heat from Caleb's body, even through her thick jacket. She could smell him; he wore no cologne or any other perfumed smell, but instead smelled like canvas and leather. She had never found that scent pleasant until now. Every time she breathed it in, her chest felt tight, tense enough she had trouble letting her breath back out. How foolish she was. There wasn't even anything special about this man. Haven must have had a hundred men like him, dirty and lowborn and, and…

"So, uh...where are you from?" Caleb asked, his voice sounding somewhat uneasy.

"I'm from the capital! Phobos and I were both born there!" Elyon supplied cheerfully, though Cornelia suspected she hadn't actually been the one been asked.

"So I am. My family's estate is just outside of Meridian City. I've never left it, before now." she said. As much as she despised Haven, she found no great longing in her heart for the capital or the Escanor manor.

"And where are you from, sir?" she asked him.

He left out a dismissive sound and answered, "Oh, nowhere special. Around the Grey Woods."

"Ooo!" Elyon cried, nearly lurching off her horse in excitement. "I've heard the best stories about the Grey Woods! Is it true they still have shapeshifters there that can change and stalk the woods looking for people to devor?"

Even Drake turned back to look at Elyon after her outburst. Elyon looked abashed but still eager for her answer.

"Where did you even hear that?" Cornelia asked her, as Caleb's chest rumbled against her back as he laughed. It felt so good...Phobos never laughed, and if he did it wasn't around her.

"I don't know!" Elyon said. "Maybe I read it in a book?" she finished meekly.

"There's bears and shadow cats, and even some nagas in the deepest parts of the forest; but I don't think they ever go around trying on clothes." Caleb said.

Drake laughed at that jibe, and even she chuckled a little. So, he was funny too. Great…

At this point Cornelia wasn't even sure what to expect, but once again, the lake was not it. It was simply a large body of water in an otherwise grassy field. The water was still, and dirty looking, and just…

Boring, it was boring. Elyon seemed excited, however, because of course she did.

"Oh how pretty! I wish I had brought my sketchbook!" she lamented. Cornelia laughed in earnest then and reached into her saddle bag and pulled out the tattered, but well loved sketchbook.

"I'd knew you would forget it." she told her. It didn't really matter what the lake looked like, Elyon's huge grin was worth the trip. She slipped off Lady and handed the book to Elyon.

"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cried, hugging the book to herself. Caleb was staring at her again, his eyebrows raised and a slick grin creeping across his face.

"Are you alright, Mr. Hansen?" she asked. Caleb just...kept staring at her, not looking away even when their eyes met. It was strange behavior in her circles, but that didn't stop her heart fluttering like he was noble who had just presented her his heart and coin purse.

Finally, he slid off Lady as well, who seemed quite thrilled to be rid of him. Huffing at his back, Cornelia couldn't help but giggle again.

"I don't think Lady here likes me much." he said, pointing over his shoulder at her.

"No, she doesn't," she told him. At least one of them still had control over their senses, even if it was her horse with more common sense at this point. It was so...quiet here, the only sound of note the lush meadow swaying in the wind. She kept her ears primed for the buzzing of ground bees too, however.

Elyon set out her big, red blanket upon the thick grass, and collapsed upon it to keep it from blowing away. They were on a small ridge still a far distance from the lake itself. There were no trees to tie up the horses, so Drake staked their leads in the ground, though if they really did get spooked, it wouldn't stop them from charging off. Elyon eyed Cornelia, her expression unreadable, even with all her years of experience. Suddenly her sister sat up, grasping her book and stated.

"I'm going to draw some lily pads," her usual enthusiasm damped somewhat. She looked back at Cornelia as she and Drake wandered closer to the lake, her eyes trying to give Cornelia some message she wasn't understanding.

And then she was alone, with Caleb. Thankfully, she wasn't one of those women whose words couldn't form in the presence of the opposite sex, indeed she was nothing like that.

"What brings you out here, Mr. Hansen? Do let me guess, money?" she half-joked.

Caleb took off his filthy leather hat and set it aside, running his fingers through his thick brown hair. Cornelia felt the lump in her throat again.

"I guess. Actually, I'm not even sure what I'm getting paid." he shrugged.

"How can you not know what you're getting paid?" she asked, flabbergasted. That would have been most people's first question.

Caleb still seemed very nonchalant about the affair, laughing at her shock. It was pleasant sound, it was what laughter should sound like, rich and deep and honest. It made her feel...well, honestly she didn't have the words to describe it, but it was good.

"I didn't ask. I might have, but when I came in I was barraged with problems, so it just slipped my mind. Guess I should ask later." he smiled.

Cornelia shook her head, not even believing him. "How does that work?" she questioned.

"Hey, I'm more concerned about these men than money, unlike some people."

Cornelia felt the heat in stomach again, but lust wasn't the culprit this time. "You shouldn't insult ladies in their presence." she told him.

Caleb cocked his head at her, his brows furrowing slightly.

"I was thinking more of your husband, but if the shoe fits I guess."

She would have let that go, if he hadn't compared her to Phobos. She was many things, and she knew it; but she was not like him. She stood up suddenly, indignant rage filling the empty spaces within her.

"I think I shall join Elyon, thank you Mr. Hansen."

"Hey, wait!"

Caleb grasped her hand quickly, halting her fleeing. She looked down at him, his face twisted somewhere between sorrow and amusement. It would have looked stupid on anyone else, certainly, but Caleb could pull it off.

"Sorry, not my best move." he said.

"I should say not." she spat back, though she didn't pull away.

Caleb just smiled up at her, that stupid grin she already hated. It was pure, and sweet and not something she would have expected on the harsh faced man she had met yesterday. It must have been because of her. It was a self-centered, but rational thought, and yet it filled her with a deep happiness she hadn't felt in some time.

She found herself slowly lowering back onto the blanket. He still hadn't let go of her hand…

"So, ah…" Caleb was staring their hands, clasped together, and past that to her wedding ring. She gently tugged her hand free, the desire to toss the gold and diamonds away was not unfamiliar but never had it been so strong.

"I didn't mean to upset you. My mouth works faster than my brain sometimes." he joked.

"I'm fine." she told him. In truth, despite it all, she was better than she had been in ages. Many man would turn their eyes at her, but with Phobos as her husband no man dared to do more. The last man who had held her hand was Harold Hale, when she left the estate to move in with Phobos and Elyon. That was two years ago.

"So, you fought in the war, Captain Hansen?"

"Caleb. Yeah, I did." The glow seemed to face off his face now, a shadow replacing it.

"What was it like?" she asked. The war was a hazy dream in the capital, most of the local boys hadn't even bothered to go, and for the highborn it was merely a topic of conversation more than any real threat.

"It was war, I'm not sure I could explain to someone like…" Caleb faltered then, worried about offending her and perhaps not wanting to discuss it in the first place.

"You're family then? Is there a Misses Hansen lurking around here?" He wore no wedding ring, but she had to ask anyway.

"No, no wife. Parents are dead." The weight of the words should have crushed him, but his expression barely seemed to change. This was the hard man of last night, a man that war and death had created. He suddenly seemed very out of place in the green fields next to the woman in pink.

"What about you? Shouldn't a woman your age have ten kids running around by now?"

She hugged her knees to her chest like a stressed child. She didn't answer him; she didn't have one for herself either. And anyone she could give would make her look foolish.

"I guess money doesn't fix everything." he stated. She couldn't look at him, in the fear that perhaps he thought this was funny, or that she deserved it, or…

He lifted her head gently, his rough fingers scratching her chin as they gazed at each other. He didn't look amused, or harsh, his green eyes so soft she could feel herself falling into them, like every stupid romantic cliche she had ever longed for but had never gotten.

"I'm sorry."

So was she. She jerked her head away, desperately trying to regain her composure. She knew her place, had known it for a long time. The dreams of silly little girls being swept off their feet by good, handsome men were long dead. Cornelia Hale dealt in reality; no matter how harsh.

"Perhaps we should join Elyon, Mr. Hansen." she suggested coldly, her voice empty.

Caleb quickly jumped up to his feet, his hat forgotten at his side on the ground, offering his hand out to help her up. She counted the swaying grains before her, anything to distract her from the people around her. Caleb at her side, Elyon with her lips twisted ever just so as she traced the petals of the lilies unto her paper. It was everything that should have been, and everything that wasn't. It would have hurt her greatly, if she would had let it.

"No! No! No!"

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

Irma leapt to feet, stretching her arms out in joy. The dirty dice on the floor read seven, and Alchemy's face read mad.

"Pay up, darlin!" she trilled, even as her partner crossed her arms in disgust.

"Not fair!" she complained. Still, Alchemy was never one to rehash on a deal.

"Go then!" she spat, without any real venom.

Irma practically launched herself out of the tent then. Her little game got her shift covered, Sondra didn't care was in the tent as long as someone was, and she was free for the night. She felt a little bad for Alchemy, but she had accepted the bet.

After all, it was Demosa, her favorite feast-day. It was more of a peasant holiday, she supposed, but she was a peasant. It consisted of dancing and drinking and eating, and other things snobby nobles looked down their noses at, even though everyone enjoyed dancing. Honestly, it wasn't even that big of deal, and most people didn't celebrate it this far North, but Irma was always happy for an excuse to party.

The sun had just set, and she could smell the fires burning the little amount of wood that was left in camp as they made their way through the plains. What little excess food they had was busily being cooked, and a flock of chickens was noisily escaping camp and becoming dinner. Miranda was already waiting for her by the tavern; which had erected shabby walls since the day before, a sign they would not be moving camp for some time.

Miranda looked bored, as she often did when Irma forced her into 'Merdianite' things. Sevitians didn't believe in the Light and no real interest in celebrating her holidays. Still, all Irma ever had to do was give her the puppy eyes and Miranda would tag along. She longed to go to Miranda's country one day; it seemed like a much happier place than her own.

Irma Lair lived in the here and now however, and now, she and Miranda had some serious drinking to do. Even though Miranda didn't do much drinking herself, she could be counted on to not let Irma fall in a mud puddle as she hazed around or fall into the bed of unhandsome man.

"So, this is basically an excuse to eat and drink, which is something you do everyday, am I understanding this correctly?" her friend drawled, picking at a loose string on her cuff.

"Oh, lighten up. What do you people do for holidays across the sea anyway?" she asked, draping her arm across Miranda's freckled shoulders.

"Well, we don't feel need to pretend the Light is taking a nap or looking the other way, or whatever, when we feel like engaging in more carnal activities. Most of the holidays are from the old times, and the things they celebrate don't even exist anymore; the royal family, magic, dragons."

Irma found that incredibly sad. The Path of the Light taught that many years ago, when magic still flowed through the veins of Meridian, an otherworldly menace had threatened the whole world. 'The Light', the human queen of the time had sacrificed her heart to stop it; and when she had died all the magic of the world went with her. It was a pretty story, although no one knew for sure what had caused the arcane energies to disappear, but when they had, Meridian was forever changed. It had been a world of magic, reduced to the mundane, and they were all a little duller for it.

"So, you don't celebrate anything?" she asked. Miranda's eyes narrowed at her, the woman's second most common expression.

"I didn't say that. I just said they didn't make sense. What's the point in celebrating some dead thing anyway?"

Irma merely shook her head at her friend. Miranda could be deathly serious at times, actually Irma thought that might be her default setting and her snide humor was just a side effect of her cynical nature. Still, she was her favorite.

"Oh come on then." Irma said, leading Miranda into the tavern. It was busy, as it always was this time of day, with men and a few woman milling about spending their paychecks. Raythor was perched near the back of the bar, a glass of ale he'd barely slipped at his side. Which considering the attitude in town lately was probably a good thing. Demosa was a southern holiday after all, and accordingly the bar was filled with many galhots as well as humans. Irma didn't mind, she thought their brightly colored skin was pretty and their deep rumbling voices were so interesting to listen to. Not...many humans shared her opinion on that matter.

Not even Miranda, who thought galhots extreme devotion to their gods made them ignorant. She thought the same about Meridianites, but didn't voice it as often. Irma didn't really believe in the Light, but it was a pretty story and she had liked going to church as a kid. Now, she found the rules too restrictive and pointless. She doubted some long dead god-queen cared about who she rolled around with, or what she wore, or who people loved; and if she did, Irma didn't want any part of her anyway.

"Good evening ladies, out on a traipse, I see."

Like Matt, Raythor always called them ladies but without the mockery behind it that other men often used. He was a good man, who reminded her of her father, all honor and justice and kind, gentle eyes behind a hard face. He had his shotgun with him, and a pistol, waiting in the dark for something to go wrong; because something was always going wrong at Haven.

"Oh yes, I won a free shift from a dice game on of Miss Alchemy and now we are out 'prowling'." Irma said, winking at the older man.

Raythor merely rolled his eyes at her, while Miranda slid in the booth beside him. Raythor and Miranda were almost as good of friends as she and the girl were, but with benefits. And no, not the fun kind of benefits but the emotional hang ups that come with age and loss. The old lawman said Miranda reminded him of his daughter he'd lost long ago, and for her part Miranda was happy to accept any protections his affections would bring her in the town.

"Be careful ladies," he warned them. His eyes were grave as he did, watching the increasingly drunk men push each other around the bar. "Today's probably not the best night for you to be out and around."

"Raythor, we are beautiful women in a railtown, when is it ever safe for us to be out bumming around?" she questioned. He conceded her point with a sign, and curt nod, but looked displeased regardless. Miranda had taken over slipping his ale now, her face sour from the unpleasant taste.

"I appreciate you looking out for us but-" before she could continue, she heard the familiar strums of a guitar wafting through the noisy bar. Matt must have been outside playing, and where Matt and his guitar where, so was she.

"Oh, just go." Miranda drawled, having heard the music as well. "I'll catch up with you in a bit."

Irma didn't need to be told, but she smiled and in a dramatic fashion gathered up the sheer ends of her red dress and gave the two a farewell curtsy. She started slipping her way through the crowd, towards the upbeat tune and the man behind it, and was just out the door when fate decided she didn't need to hear any music tonight.

She was sneaking past the large forms of Vathek and the handsome tattooed man who guarded the Escanor ladies, on the bar's porch when she spotted him. All alone, at the edge of the party, gazing out into the gathering moonlight. It was like, the pivotal moment in all her romance novels, when the woman found her true love in the strangest of places. How could she not go talk to him?

"Hey, it's Aldarn, right?" Everyone in the town had heard what had happened two days before, the fight between Vathek and Frost had seen to that.

He looked back slowly at her, like a near-drowned man trying to dislodge water from his head. His expression was blank, but it slowly slid into confusion as he looked up at her. He didn't answer her, barely acknowledged her save his stare. Most people would have felt off put by that, but not Irma. Instead she sat down across from him on the porch, and gave him what she hoped was her softest smile.

"Well, I'm having a terrible day; what about you?" she asked him. It was her favorite 'sad time' icebreaker. He blinked, his head crooked like a bewildered puppy.

"I...what?" he asked. The blank expression on his face had been replaced with confusion, which is what she was going for of course.

"I'm sorry about your father," she told him. She really was. Irma had left her family to go seek out her grand adventure, but she still thought about her papa everyday, even though she knew he wouldn't approve of her lifestyle. She knew he blamed Frost for his father's death, and whether that was true or not didn't matter to her; though she could see the bruises on Josie's neck in her mind and didn't doubt he was capable.

"You are?" He sounded very much like he would like to believe such a thing, but didn't dare to actually do so. His face then started to harden, the bony ridges that made up his brow line protruding farther out as they knit together.

"What does it matter to you?" he snapped, then look ashamed at himself for doing so. "I…"

"It's alright." Irma told him, forcing a grin on her face so he would feel better. He just kept staring at her like she had sprouted three heads and flaming hair.

"Why are you talking to me?" he asked. Irma was a little surprised by the question.

"Should...I not be talking to you? Was that an edict of the war I missed out on? Dang, I knew I should have paid that penny for the newspaper last year."

He looked like he wanted to laugh, the corners of his lips twitching slightly. She held out her hand to him,

"Irma Lair."

He smiled back at her finally, as he shook her hand. His hands were rough, but his touch was gentle, as if he were grasping a newborn kitten rather than her hand.

"I only asked because, most humans you know…"

Irma grew up in a small town just outside of Carhaiz. It had taken her near five months to get to the capital from there, it was just about southern as one could get on the mainland. When the war had started her father had just shook his head and bemoaned the 'festering greed' in the capital and praised the Light that her brother was still to young to fight. It was honestly a coincidence that the South was mostly galhots; and some fancy wheeling in the capital had twisted the story of expansionist greed to the 'evil' galhots and their desire not to conform to the country. Winning the war allowed them to paint the story of it.

"This is the part where you tell me I'm not like other girls." she quipped, ruffling her caramel locks for emphasis. The poor man looked like he was suffering from whiplash. He probably had only dealt with galhot women who flushed at a glance; or maybe no women at all.

"I'm sorry, I'm not really…"

She could practically see the dark shadow cloud his face. Compassion filled her, her heart twisting so fiercely her chest hurt. She knew only one good way to make people forget their problems. It was why she had money in her pocket after all.

She offered him her hand again.

"Come with me."

He blinked, ashamed. "No, I'm sorry, I don't want-I don't have any money."

"This isn't about money, come on. Let's get out of here."

"No, Miss-"

"Come on." she told him, a little more forcefully this time. She lifted him off the ground and he followed her in a daze. Irma had no qualms picking up strangers to her side; it was an important part of her job after all; and if it actually helped someone for once, well then it was a good thing. She made sure no one saw them go, she would never get another customer again if they knew she was sleeping with a galhot.

The crowd was too busy notice the two slipping into the shadows past the last rail car. All except Miranda, who stood on the porch, her arms crossed and lips pursed. With a sign and a near laugh, she wandered back to her tent alone, as she often had since meeting Irma many moons ago.

AN:

So, here we have the introduction of two of our main romances, which are parallels of the other. The traditional 'great buildup' with Cornelia and Caleb, meet, talk, kiss, etc. Whereas Irma and Aldarn start on the opposite foot first, and work backwards almost. I had a really hard time with this chapter despite most of it being already written. Romance is not my strong suit, but it's a very important part of this story, so hopefully I will get better at it. I could use any constructive criticism on such matters if you have it. Next chapter will deal with more of the rails problems, and may take some time as I recently injured my hand at work (a friendly reminder to be careful sharpening knives out in the woods). Thanks for everyone's support and for taking the time to read my story. RoR out.