20. Healing

The weeks after the attack were busy. The men were busy strengthening the fortifications and repairing whatever parts of the fort were damaged. Braewyn walked to the fort every day with Zoe, Zoe to clean blood off clothes, to mend tears, or to help Blanchefleur and Evelyn make new clothes for Roman soldiers or knights, Braewyn to watch Gawain, make sure his wound hadn't festered, and that it hadn't torn, that he wasn't stressing himself too much for his body to heal. Once she had finished with Gawain, she would go and help with the other injured men before leaving to do what she normally did during the day: tend to her herb patch and, occasionally, care for whatever sick or injured the village had.

Zoe would sit in the laundry, tell the girls that Gawain was doing better every day, but that he wasn't out of danger yet, and deny any involvement between her and Tristan. She was grateful for the chances she got to get out of the laundry, because she was getting sick of all the questions the girls threw at her about her supposed relationship with Tristan. Evelyn and Blanchefleur would pester her for details-when their love had started, how Tristan acted as a lover and so many things Zoe didn't know. Lucia sat there with a disapproving look on her face that said she was disappointed Zoe was sleeping with a knight and Liliana was constantly trying to get Zoe to stop these rumours. Which would be great, except Liliana's preferred method to stop the rumours was for Zoe to announce she was in love with Gawain.

It made Zoe's job delivering the clothes up to the knight's quarters really embarrassing. Lancelot kept shooting her these odd looks, Bors, when he was there, asked her how many children she would give Tristan, Kay winked conspiratorially every time she went anywhere near Tristan's room and Galahad had pulled her aside anxiously one day and asked her if the rumours were true, and to tell her that if they were she should be very careful of Tristan's temper and that he hoped she could make him relax a little.

And that had been awkward, because as Zoe was leaving Galahad's room, blushing and stuttering denials there was a girl, Iona, going in to Gawain's room and she had heard everything. She was the one who had been dancing with Gawain at Yule, and she was much prettier than Zoe was. For one thing, she was slender, which Zoe was not, and she always smelled like fresh bread rather than harsh soap and sweat. Zoe heard from Evelyn that Iona had been seeing Gawain almost every day, but nobody knew if the two were just courting, or if they were lovers, or if they were just having sex.

But it said quite a bit that the knights allowed her to remain alone in the room while Gawain was as weak as a kitten and virtually defenceless. He still wasn't out of danger; his wound could still fester, or the stitches could tear and he wasn't strong enough to sit up for more than ten minutes at a time.

There were two people the knights allowed in to see Gawain without one of them watching over their comrade. Braewyn was one. Iona was the other.

As the rumours about Zoe and Tristan grew boring for the gossips when neither Zoe nor Tristan acted in a way that could confirm them, the whispers died down. People still asked if Gawain was well yet, but there were more important things to do than gossip, after all. Bellona didn't work in the laundry for a few days, and when Zoe asked after her Liliana said that she was helping prepare a body for burial. She didn't mention it again, and neither did the others. They didn't mention the fresh graves that they could see outside the walls of the fort either. They just did what had to be done to keep life normal. This, unsurprisingly for them, meant clothes.

The work of cleaning, mending or making new clothes was both mind-numbingly boring and physically tiring; Zoe came home every day with sore fingers, an aching back and slightly blurry vision, as her eyes struggled to concentrate on tiny stitches. She always had to struggle to concentrate; even Blanchefleur had noticed she'd been distracted and vague.

'Anybody would think it was your lover wounded almost to death,' Lucia snarled after discovering Zoe's mangled stitching for the third time that day. 'Sit in a corner and try not to get in anyone's way.'

Zoe had never been more grateful to Braewyn for doing all the housekeeping-not only did the old woman do it, but she did it to a standard Zoe was comfortable with, and managed to keep the house smelling nice and almost completely vermin-free. Zoe sure as hell couldn't concentrate on anything, because Braewyn would never say Gawain was out of danger, and the uncertainty ate away at her.

Every day for the month after the attack, Zoe would come home tired and achy, which meant she was bad-tempered. Braewyn would be outside singing lilting Celtic lullabies to herself in her native tongue as she prepared the garden behind their house for the planting season, planted, and tended to the seedlings as the weeks passed. Zoe would shout hello to her as she banged the iron pot around using the excuse that she was cooking dinner. Winter was over, but it was still too early to have anything new harvested, which meant that vegetables and grain were starting to become scarce, and more and more Zoe found herself eating turnips, stringy meat and month-old bread.

Despite being tired and cranky, Zoe rarely slept. For the month and a half after the attack, while the trees were growing leaves and Braewyn's herb garden was sprouting, Zoe woke up every night, sometimes screaming, sometimes with her heart pounding and a cold sweat all over her. Nightmares about a bloodied hand reaching out to her, a gangrenous wound on a man's leg miraculously healing and one on her own leg opening up. Braewyn tried everything to get Zoe to sleep, from sleeping potions, which made the nightmares worse, to lullabies, which sent Zoe to sleep, but couldn't keep her asleep.

'Zoe, you look exhausted,' Blanchefleur remarked one day, about seven weeks after the Woads had come to the Roman fort. She and Zoe had been getting ready to leave the laundry for the day when Blanchefleur had stopped chattering and really looked at Zoe.

Zoe, having not seen a mirror in all the time she'd been in Roman Britain, couldn't help but agree. 'I definitely feel it,' Zoe said, wrapping her cloak more tightly about her. She knew she probably had big bags under her eyes; her hair was sticking out of its shoddy braid and her dress was wrinkled from the hours of sitting and sewing.

'Have you slept at all?' Blanchefleur asked, grabbing Zoe's arm and leading her from the laundry.

'I can't,' Zoe admitted. 'It's just…I can't forget it.'

'Forget what?' Blanchefleur asked, tugging Zoe out of the Sarmatian building. 'Forget the raid? Zoe, it's not exactly unusual.'

The two girls dodged around a group of Romans heading towards their own building and ducked out the gate before Zoe started to explain.

'Where I come from…nothing like that ever happens,' she said, looking up into the spring sky. 'I'd never seen a dead person, much less seen one die. There's war, but it's far away and…' Gawain, Zoe thought. He could still die.

Blanchefleur sighed and pulled Zoe into a hug. 'Just remember that that's not all we've got here. This place isn't all about death, Zoe. You've got to focus on life, too. Go play with Drostan or that Crispin brat, go talk to some of the other girls or that horse man you seem to like. Dance, drink, walk, or go look at the flowers. Don't just look at the blood.'

'Well that was almost profound,' Zoe teased half-heartedly, and Blanchefleur squeezed her once again before turning to head towards her own house.

Even though she'd teased Blanchefleur about it, what she said struck a chord inside Zoe. She couldn't spend her time worrying about Gawain, or being traumatized by the attack on the fort. Which was pathetic, since nothing had really happened to her, and everybody she cared about were still alive (for the moment at least), so she really needed to just stop thinking about it.

It wasn't that easy, of course. It never was. And two days after the talk with Blanchefleur, Lucia threw her out of the laundry in absolute disgust at her absentmindedness and general uselessness.

'You're worse than useless. You're…you're…pathetic!' Lucia said as she shoved Zoe out of the laundry.

Zoe was trudging out of the building the knights lived in when Kay called her name.

'You look…depressed,' he said, somewhat tactfully, as he fell into steph beside her. 'Tristan not been paying you enough attention?'

Zoe hit his stomach as hard as she could. He didn't even flinch.

'I know, I know, there's noting really going on. Braewyn asked us to leave you alone about it-she said something about you being really sensitive about it. Hey…it's not time for you to leave yet, why are you leaving?' The knight had too much energy for someone as sweaty as he was. It was barely even spring and Kay was only wearing a thin shirt Zoe recognized as one of his favourites from the number of times she'd washed it and a new pair of trousers. The shirt was plastered to his chest and back and his curly hair was slicked to his skull with sweat.

'How do you even know what time I'm supposed to leave?' Zoe asked. 'And please, stay away, you smell bad.'

'It's barely past noon! Is something wrong?' Kay asked, suddenly concerned for her and crowding even closer trying to hug her.

'Smell bad,' Zoe choked, trying not to breathe in.

'Oh…sorry,' Kay said, sheepishly moving away a little. 'But if something's wrong, do you want me to go get one of the other laundry girls? Or Braewyn? I could go get Braewyn for you.' He seemed eager to help, kind of like a puppy, but also like a man afraid he'd suddenly have a crying girl on his hands.

'I just need to…it sounds stupid, but I just need to forget everything bad for a little while,' Zoe said. 'I'll be fine.'

'…have you tried ale?'

Zoe glared at the knight, who grinned, before putting a sober expression on his face.

'Fine, I'll give you a suggestion, but if you ever tell anyone it was my idea I'll deny it,' Kay whispered, leaning closer, then moving back when he saw Zoe scrunch up her nose in disgust at his body odour. 'Go play with some kids. Van's got heaps, and she's got her hands full with Four being sick and all.'

'You play with babies?' Zoe asked, trying to picture Kay, with his irresponsible attitude and scarred face making nice with children.

'I'm very good with children,' Kay defended himself indignantly. 'And I sing to them. I'm not good at it like Caradoc, but I don't make them cry.'

'I might just go play with kids then. You don't think Vanora would mind?' Zoe asked, somewhat nervously. The older woman made her feel fragile and timid. There was just something about Vanora that made her seem eight feet tall and more frightening than any of the knights. Except Tristan. Or Dinadan in the morning.

'She won't. I'll even walk you there myself so she knows you're not trying to steal the babes,' Kay offered. He held out an arm for Zoe to take, but then he must have caught a whiff of his own smell because his face screwed up and he dropped his arm. 'Yeah, I smell,' Kay mumbled. 'I'll go change after I show to to Van's.'

The village wasn't particularly large, so it didn't take long for Zoe and Kay to reach the windy excuse for a street that Vanora lived on. The Romans had paved the road to the fort, but the village outside it had sprung up with little to no organization, which meant that the streets weren't straight.

'You can always tell which house is Vanora's,' Kay said cheerily, cocking his head at a particularly shrill bawl from a young child. 'Just listen for the screaming.'

'That makes it sound so sinister,' Zoe objected as they reached the house. Kay was right, though. The sound of a baby's screams and a small child's wails filled the street, cutting over even the noise from the nearby market.

Zoe, with a bit of encouragement from Kay, knocked on Vanora's door. From inside the house, Zoe could hear Vanora scream at her children to 'shut up or eat rats' before the door was wrenched open.

'This is really not a good time,' Vanora hissed. Her hair was, like Zoe's, tide up in a messy braid at the back of her head. Unlike Zoe's, her hair was flecked with vomit, and so was her dress. 'Kay.'

'Vanora.'

'So, what was it you were after?' Vanora asked the knight. 'Is it Bors again? Did the great lump hurt himself?'

'No, I don't want anything. Zoe here, though, Zoe has a favour to ask you. I'm just here to reassure you she's not insane and now I'll leave,' Kay babbled. He was almost gone before he'd finished speaking.

Shaking her head and smiling slightly at Kay's behaviour, Vanora turned to Zoe with suspicion plain on her face. 'Well, what do you want?'

'Um…I was hoping…would you mind if I took your children with me for an afternoon? Just to play, I promise. Nothing bad. At all. Would you mind?' Zoe asked hurriedly.

Vanora's eyebrows rose incredulously as another piercing wail came from inside. Vanora turned and hissed something at her children. It did nothing to stop the wailing, but Zoe could hear child-like shushing noises coming from inside the house.

'That would be wonderful. No idea why you'd be mad enough to want them, but Four's spitting up and I want to watch him in case I need to fetch Braewyn. Take them away, on you head be any harm that comes to them,' Vanora told Zoe sternly.

Vanora yelled at her children to get out of her house and go with 'the nice lady who is going to get you all out of my hair'. The children all looked at Zoe as if she was their saviour and hurried outside.

Zoe introduced herself to them while Vanora went to get Drostan. The baby was still sniffling when Vanora handed him over to Zoe.

'Remember, they get hurt, so do you,' Vanora reminded her.

Zoe nodded eagerly, and, holding Drostan in her arms, she took Vanora's children out of the village. She didn't feel comfortable calling them Gilly, Two, Three, Four and Five, so she asked Gilly, who was the oldest by a year and a half, what his siblings were called.

'I'm Gilly. Me da says it's cos I'm special. That's Aidilh, but everyone calls her Two. That's Three, her name's Epona. Which is funny cos she's scared of horses. Four's called Ban, after Da's friend, but Da just calls him Four. And this is Drostan-he's Five,' Gilly explained.

'Does it bother you? Being Two or Three?' Zoe asked the two girls.

Aidilh, Two, shook her head. 'It's like Ma calling me Addie. Da never gets us mixed up like Auntie Tam does, and he's here half as often.'

'I don't like my name,' Epona said with the absolute certainty only a four year old can muster. 'I like being Three! My bruvver's Four, and he's the same age as me.' She held up four pudgy little fingers proudly.

'She means they're twins, like Ma and Aunt Tam,' Gilly explained, taking Three's hand and tugging her along faster.

'Come on! We don't have all day!' Aidilh said, running ahead of her brother.

Zoe watched the three of them play in the water; Gilly mostly tormenting Three while Aidilh collected whatever budding flowers she could find. They were so happy. Even Three, who was shrieking war cries such as 'I hate you poopypants!' and 'I'll tell Ma!' and chasing after her big brother with a stick, didn't look like a child who had lived through woad attacks and having a Sarmatian knight as a father.

When Zoe thought about it, they would have seen Bors come back from missions covered in blood and gore, or with wounds of his own. And they would have had 'uncles' die before, because Zoe knew that Bors had lost good friends and comrades in Britain.

And compared to the kids, and to the knights, she had no right to nightmares.

'Well if they can forget it all, baby boy, I can too,' Zoe said to Drostan, rocking him in her arms. The baby smiled, made some sort of happy gurgling nose and then drooled all over his chin.

Zoe didn't stay too much longer; Three was getting tired, Aidilh was only halfheartedly chasing Gilly around with a chain of early-blooming flowers and Gilly looked bored with the waterfall rather than enthusiastic. Drostan was getting fidgety, and as Zoe shifted the baby began to whine.

'He's hungry,' Gilly said. 'Ma said to bring us back when he gets hungry.'

'Are you ready to go?' Zoe asked.

Gilly nodded and waved for his sisters to go ahead. Aidilh strung the chain of flowers she'd made around Three's neck, took her hand and started leading her younger sister home. Zoe handed Drostan to Gilly for a moment while she stood up, and the baby started bawling.

'He wants his Ma,' Gilly explained, holding the baby as far away from himself as his small arms could manage. 'He gives me an awful headache when he cries like this. Not as bad as Three, but Ma got his name right.'

'The noisy one?' Zoe scooped the crying infant out of Gilly's arms and rocked him in her own. It didn't do any good. 'At the moment, I'd agree with that. Come on, let's get you lot home.'

Drostan quieted a little on the walk home, but he kept grabbing at Zoe's chest as if he expected her to transform into Vanora and feed him. Walking back to Vanora's house, with most of Vanora's children, got Zoe a few odd looks, but she ignored them and listened to Aidilh explain to Gilly why their friend Leta thought he was smelly, trying not to laugh at the reasons Aidilh was giving her older brother.

She thought that perhaps the reason Leta thought Gilly was smelly was because he didn't bathe, but according to Aidilh it had something to do with him being a boy.

'Vanora, love, they're back!' Bors yelled when Zoe knoced on the door. 'Gilly, my boy! Two,' Bors greeted his children, ruffling Gilly's hair and giving Aidilh a loud kiss on the cheek. He took his youngest son from Zoe, and kissed him, too, although Drostan howled where Aidilh had giggled.

'I think he's hungry,' Zoe said. 'Vanora, thank you for letting me have them today.'

'I have no idea why you wanted them,' Vanora said as she pulled her dress down to feed Drostan, 'but you're welcome to them any time. It was quite a relief.'

'What did you want with 'em anyway?' Bors asked, grabbing Three and lifting her as high above his head as the low roof of the house permitted.

Zoe looked back at the knight, at his family, and shrugged. 'I just wanted to forget, for a while.'

'Ale's better for that, missy.'

'But it won't leave her with a nasty headache, or me with vomit to clean up. Thank you, Zoe,' Vanora said, turning her attention to the infant at her breast.

'You don't need walking home, do you?' Bors asked, jiggling Three in his arms.

'No, thank you, it's not far,' Zoe replied, waving to the children.

They waved back, but were busy telling their father all about their day before Zoe had even gotten out of the door.

When Zoe made it home it was completely dark. The little hut Zoe now thought of as home had a fire going, lighting the windows with flickering orange, and Zoe could smell woodsmoke as she approached.

'I thought you might like to know, I'm absolutely certain Gawain is going to live. I told Arthur this morning,' Braewyn said to Zoe as she walked through the door, handing her a slice of bread and pointing to the fire, where some meat and turnips where keeping warm.

'Oh thank God,' Zoe sighed, sitting down within arm's reach of the fire.

'His wound is healing cleanly, without festering. He'll have a scar for the rest of his life, though,' Braewyn said, standing up wearily.

'Well at least he'll have a rest of his life,' Zoe muttered around a mouthful of turnip. 'You know, I'm really sick of these.'

Braewyn smiled, yawned, and walked over to the mat of furs where she and Zoe slept. 'Bank the fire before going to bed, will you please?'

Zoe murmured her assent, chewing on the stringy meat. She knew that food would be scarcer and scarcer until around the middle of summer, when the first proper harvests would come in.

When Zoe heard Braewyn's light snores she smiled. Everyone she loved here was safe. Braewyn was resting peacefully not two meters away from her, Gawain would recover from his wound, Blanchefleur, Liliana, Lucia and Evelyn were all at home sleeping.

She didn't have nightmares that night.

The next day, Zoe was still tired. But she put that down to not sleeping for the previous six weeks. She was, for the first time in a while, looking forward to seeing her friends. Now that she wasn't looking like the walking dead, she wouldn't have to put up with their tiptoeing around her. And, finally, she could tell them some good news.

'Oh that's a relief,' Evelyn sighed when she heard. Blanchefleur smiled widely and hugged Zoe tightly.

'Well at least we won't have mended his clothes for nothing,' was all Lucia would say about it, but Zoe knew Lucia well enough to know that she was as happy as the others about it.

'Don't you think Tristan will be jealous?' Blanchefleur asked suddenly.

'What? Jealous that Gawain's going to live?' Zoe asked, confused by the apparent change of subject.

'No, silly. Jealous that you're paying to much attention to another knight,' Blanchefleur explained. 'I mean, everyone's been talking about the two of you, and I know you say there's nothing to it, but really, I don't know why we didn't see it ages ago.'

'There's nothing to those rumours, Blanchefleur,' Evelyn insisted. 'Zoe doesn't like Tristan like that, I can tell.'

'But he gave her his shirt,' Blanchefleur whined. 'That's got to mean something, right?'

'Yeah, that he liked to look down it when it was on me,' Zoe grumbled. 'Blanchefleur, men like to look at breasts. It's part of being a man; if there are breasts, they will be appreciated. It doesn't mean true love and lots of babies and a happily ever after, or even that he particularly likes me as a person and not as a walking pair of breasts. And I'm not paying a lot of attention to Gawain, I'm just glad that he's going to recover.'

'If you say so,' Blanchefleur said, looking at Zoe skeptically.

'It's a good thing that you aren't. Iona would get jealous. I've heard from my neighbour that Iona turned down a perfectly good man, Taariq, he tanner, because there was somebody else. And she's been spending hours with Gawain, you know,' Evely babbled.

'Yes, but has she been spending the night hours with him?' Blanchefleur asked.

'Even if she had, I doubt he'd be…up…for much,' Lucia murmured. 'What with his injury and all.'

Blanchefleur and Evelyn laughed and kept speculating about Iona and Gawain's relationship. Liliana kept darting concerned glances to Zoe, who tried to stay out of the conversation as much as possible. Thinking about Gawain with a woman not herself was not something she wanted to do.

Finally, the day ended, and as Zoe was walking towards the Church, Liliana caught up with her and wrapped her up in a hug.

'I know you like Gawain, and I know it's got to hurt hearing this, but I want you to know that I'll listen when you need me to.'

Zoe sniffed hard to stop herself from crying and hugged Liliana back tightly.

'Do you really think Iona's...' Zoe trailed off, not wanting to finish that question.

'I've never seen Gawain more serious about a girl,' Liliana answered honestly. 'Forget him, Zoe. Quite apart from that, he's a knight. You should never be serious about a knight.'

Zoe didn't reply, but went to spend some time in the Church. She still found it calming. There was something about the smell of incense and the familiar figures in the paintings that made her feel connected to where she came from and safe, at the same time.

She knew she didn't belong here, that this time wasn't her home, and that it was so hard to fit in and deal with what these people thought was common. Like, for instance, primitive medical care. But she also knew that there was no technology here capable of explaining her predicament. And she knew that there was nothing she could do to get home.

She didn't spend too long in there, and just as it was getting dark she decided to leave.

'Zoe!' a man called from inside the Church.

She turned around to see Arthur standing behind her. She hadn't noticed him while she'd been sitting inside the Church, which wasn't really surprising. She had been concentrated on herself, and Arthur could be amazingly unobtrusive when he wanted to avoid attention.

'Sir.'

'It's getting dark, let me walk you home,' Arthur offered.

Zoe accepted, if only because there was no way she could refuse. Arthur, she knew, thought it important to protect those who could not protect themselves, even if it was only from walking home alone.

There was silence on the way back to Braewyn's house, mostly because Arthur appeared rather deep in thought and Zoe didn't know what to say. Arthur was…not like his knights. There was something special about him, Zoe knew, something that set him above and apart. Something that would be remembered and romanticized long after he died.

But he still bleeds like everyone else, Zoe thought, remembering how pale and weak he had seemed the night of the Woad attack when Zoe had had to stitch him up.

It didn't take long to walk to Braewyn's house. It wasn't even completely dark by the time the two arrived at the door.

Zoe expected Arthur to leave after he saw her safely home, so she was surprised when the man opened the door for her and followed her inside.

'Arthur? Good to see you, dear boy,' Braewyn exclaimed, leaving the fire's warmth with outstretched arms.

Arthur embraced Braewyn warmly. 'I hadn't meant to bother you until tomorrow, but I saw Zoe in the church and asked if I could walk her home.'

'That sounds ominous, Arthur. Zoe-go eat. Turnips again.'

'Oh joy,' Zoe murmured, and received a playful smack from the old lady for her sarcasm.

'Arthur, come in, sit down,' Braewyn shooed Arthur to the furs beside the fire and eased herself down beside him.

'I have something to ask of you, Braewyn,' Arthur began. 'I am aware of the trouble it will cause you, but I hope you will consider it, at least. My men are being forced to rely on a healer whose first priority is Roman soldiers, not Sarmatian conscripts. And yet, they are injured more frequently than even the most active of legionaries. I want a healer who can be there for us all the time. A healer who would be waiting for us when we return from our missions, who will see to us as her first priority after battles.'

Zoe, chewing rather unhappily on turnips, could see the sense in Arthur's words, and had caught on to his meaning. He wanted Braewyn to be the healer for the Sarmatian knights.

'I won't move from my house, Arthur,' Braewyn warned him, leaning in close to her fire. 'I'm too old to deal with your knights all day every day.'

'I wouldn't ask you to, but I've got another request.' Arthur

'Oh?'

'I would like you to take an apprentice. Or perhaps two.'

'Why?' Braewyn asked.

Zoe listened attentively as she cleaned her meal.

'I need to look out for the future of my men, and, as much as I will grieve your passing, I need to look out for the world after it. I cannot prevent time from taking you from me, but I am hoping you can help me save my men by passing on your knowledge.'

There was no sound in the one-roomed house except for their breathing and the crackling of the fire.

'You know I have not wanted an apprentice, Arthur,' Braewyn murmured.

'And I will still ask you to take one.' Arthur's voice was implacable.

'Zoe,' Braewyn called suddenly. 'Please stop sulking and come sit by the fire. I'm sure you've heard everything that we've said.'

'I have,' Zoe agreed, sitting down next to Braewyn and the warmth of the fire. The three sat in silence for a while, Zoe uncomfortably, Braewyn deep in thought, and Arthur watching the older woman intently.

'Arthur-it was to have been my daughter's work. And I'm not sure I have long enough to teach all that I know,' Braewyn eventually said. 'I'm old, Arthur.'

'I know,' the man said, reaching over to take Braewyn's hand. 'Think on it.' Arthur squeezed Braewyn's hand and kissed the old woman's brow. 'Goodnight.'

Zoe and Braewyn worked silently to clean up after their dinner and to get ready for bed. The conversation with Arthur had been a sobering one for the two women.

'Braewyn…' Zoe began as she banked the coals for the night, blinking rapidly as some smoke got into her eyes.

'I'm thinking about it, Zoe,' the old woman said, sounding older than she ever had.

'I was going to ask…what will happen to me when you…if you…' Zoe trailed off, and swallowed the sudden lump in her throat.

'When I die? You remember me and bury me with honour. When I die you can have the house, the gardens. You can sell them and move away, you can marry so you can keep living here. You grieve and then go on living.' Braewyn said, pulling Zoe away from the fire so that she could hug her.

'I don't want you to die,' Zoe whispered into Braewyn's frail shoulder.

'Everyone dies, Zoe. It's a matter of how. Now hush, and don't worry. I'm not about to die during the night.'

Despite Braewyn's assurances, Zoe stayed awake long after Braewyn did, listening to her snoring softly during the night.

xxx

A/N: Wow, I'm a bad author. Lost inspiration for the better part of a year, sorry guys. Still, I logged on for the first time in a year a little while ago and got bombarded with reviews and favourites and alerts, so I went back and re-found the drive to write. So…yay? I'll try to have the next chapter up in less than a year.

Thanks for everyone who favourited this in my…let's call it an absence. Thanks to everyone who wrote a review, who put this story on their alerts. Thanks to people who reviewed twice trying to poke me to get stuff done. You're fantastic.

Also, thanks to my ninja beta. You're amazing.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't own them, don't sue me.