Chapter 25

The Other Telmarine

Peter knew he was alone before his brain could even form a coherent thought. It was a feeling more than anything; a deep sense of loss that made his stomach constrict in a sickening way. The sensation cut into his quiet dreams like ink spilled on a piece of stark white paper. It began slowly, the black tendrils weaving forward, their lines growing outward as Peter's dreams slowly began to vanish. He fought to remain in the clouded state between sleep and waking, but every passing second seemed to pull his conscious into sharper focus. Finally his eyes fluttered open, his gut twisting even tighter as he caught sight of the vacant spot beside him.

The room was dim; the only light trickling in from the balcony as the sun slowly began to peek over the trees. A cool breeze rustled the curtains creating muted shadows along the chamber's far wall and along the floor. The noises of morning—birds mainly, with the occasional shout or laugh from one of the day's early risers—drifted in from the windows and under the doors.

Peter noticed none of this, his senses too dull to see anything beyond the cool, disheveled blankets where Cara had lain not an hour before. His reached for the spot absentmindedly. The night seemed long ago, a distant reverie that he attempted to recall with clarity, but his mind couldn't decipher what was real and what was embellishment. The muted memories scared him. Only a few hours had past and Cara was already slipping away. Soon she would be nothing more than a void in his heart and a few clear characteristics that no amount of time could erase—her laugh; her smile—the feel of her lips against his. Cara would become like Narnia. A place that he could barely remember, but he knew he belonged.

"Pete?"

Peter's fingers grasped the sheets tightly before releasing their hold. He rolled onto his back just as Edmund cracked the main door and peered in. "Peter?" he repeated in a weary voice.

"Yes?" Peter responded, his voice breaking roughly.

"You alone?" Edmund questioned as he pushed his head a little further into the room.

Peter rubbed his eyes and attempted to control the emotions that were suddenly compressing his chest. "Yes."

Edmund slipped into the chamber and closed the door softly behind him. He held in his hand a small mug of something steaming and smelling heavily of honey. Peter regarded the drink with apprehension.

"From Dr. Cornelius," Edmund explained as he handed Peter the concoction forcing the High King to lift himself quickly into a sitting position. After sending Edmund an un-amused glare, Peter lowered his nose and inhaled a small whiff of the drink.

"What rancid ingredient is this ludicrous amount of honey attempting to mask?" Peter questioned with a look of disgust.

"Just drink it," Edmund replied in a tired tone. "The good Dr. said it would wake you up and…soften the blow," he added after noticing that Peter still seemed uninterested in the drink.

"Soften the blow," Peter whispered with a sardonic chuckle before placing his lips against the mug and taking a small sip. "I take it you know then?"

"Susan."

Edmund's answer seemed decent enough for Peter, for he did not question him any further. Instead the two sat it silence, Peter sipping his drink and Edmund taking in Peter's disheveled form.

Although Edmund had found Peter alone, the state of the bed and the smell of the chamber indicated that his solitude was recent. Even the thick smell of honey wafting from Peter's drink couldn't mask the tang of lovemaking that still hung in the air. Peter's untamed hair and salt coated skin where only further proof that Cara had stayed within Peter's reach throughout the night.

Under different circumstances Edmund would have offered Peter a sly remark about the previous night's obvious events, but he knew what today was bringing, and he knew what that meant for Peter.

Edmund had seen the look in Peter's eyes when he and Susan returned after Aslan had whisked them away to discuss a topic that Edmund only half cared to know. He witnessed Cara rushing to Peter's side and how he, in turn, clung to her as if she was going to be ripped from his arms. Edmund lost sight of the two after that moment, but later, after Susan had happily explained what was to come, he knew where they had gone too, and he prayed to Aslan that they were able to find some amount of solace in their last night together.

Looking at Peter now, Edmund could not decide if solace was even possible, but his mind still filled with various statements and ideas that might bring Peter some form of comfort.

After a long moment of silence Edmund attempted to voice one of the many thoughts racing through his head. "Perhaps," he began before running his fingers swiftly through his hair and mumbling over a few words that Peter could not even begin to decipher. "It's possible—"

"Ed," Peter quickly interrupted. Edmund instantly ended his failed attempt at reassurance, his eyes glancing everywhere but at Peter. "There is nothing to say," Peter added offhandedly as he pushed himself from the bed dragging a lone sheet along for modesty's sake.

"How is Cara?" Edmund asked suddenly. Peter remained silent as he dropped the sheet to the floor and pulled a new pair of trousers over his legs. Edmund watched him cautiously, unsure if his question was a topic that was open for discussion.

"Devastated," Peter finally responded with down turned eyes and a soft voice. "Brokenhearted. Confused. Inconsolable. Pick your poison, for they all fit." After taking one last sip of Sr. Cornelius' soothing concoction, Peter tossed the mug into the cold fireplace; it shattered against the gray stone, the sound ricocheting up the chimney.

Edmund watched Peter's sudden outburst of emotion, his forehead wrinkling as Peter placed his head in hands and sighed deeply. Another sigh followed the first, but it was choked and guttural. Finally Peter's shoulders began to tremble. The movement was small; proof that Peter was attempting to mask his tears, but the action only tore Edmund's heart more.

"I don't want to leave her," Peter whispered through his tears.

"Cara is strong," Edmund replied.

"You didn't see her face," Peter shouted as his fingers dropped revealing his red, swollen eyes and damp cheeks. "You didn't hold her as she cried throughout the night. You didn't make love to her thinking the entire time that you will never feel this way again."

"Cara is strong," Edmund repeated in the same even tone, "and so are you."

Peter said nothing, opting instead to shake his head cynically. "Have faith in Aslan, Peter. There must be a reason behind all of this." Peter glanced up at Edmund's words, his face contorted as if he was thinking deeply.

"I've conjured up so many scenarios where we end up together," Peter finally replied, "but they all seem so absurd, so impossible."

"Defeating the Telmarines seemed impossible, but now look where we are," Edmund answered with a passionate gesture.

The two brothers regarded each other for a long moment. Peter's face was still blotched with red, but the tightness in his jaw seemed to lessen with each passing moment. "You're right," he finally replied. "You're absolutely right."

BBBBBB

Catalina was so consumed with her own self-pity and hatred for the opposite sex, that she had little clue as to the condition of the royal party's emotions, or their sudden change in plans. Truly, she didn't even realize that anything was afoot until another serving girl gossiped to her about the newly crowned King Caspian calling forth a special gathering for all to hear the Great Lion speak.

"I'm sure it is nothing to worry yourself over," Catalina replied. "It's most likely a continuation of the coronation."

The two girls were shoved into a small corner along one of the Castle's many corridors; Catalina bearing a load of laundry and the other balancing numerous plates of food upon one of her bulky shoulders. Catalina was rather bored with the entire conversation, her mind too preoccupied with all of the ways to avoid Glozelle to care about anything else, but the younger girl was quite adamant that this was gossip that Catalina simply had to hear.

"That's what Rodric supposed," the serving girl, whose name Catalina could never seem to remember, said before pulling Catalina closer and moving her eyes around as if she expected someone to be eaves dropping on their conversation, "but I think it's more than that. Clovis saw the High Queen walking through the corridors early this morn. He said her dress was completely askew, and her face flowing with tears. He said she came from the High King's chambers."

Catalina was taken aback by this news, but she stopped the gasp that threatened to spill from her lips. Instead she made her face hard and stepped away from the other girl. "Don't dawdle in the business of the royals. Their personal lives are of no concern to you, and what Clovis claims he saw probably has no connection to the new King's gathering."

The other girl looked miffed at Catalina's retort, her mousy features turning into a grotesque scowl. "Always were haughty…" she seethed under her breath before turning away from Catalina, her tray tipping slightly as she disappeared around a corner.

Catalina watched the girl go before hitching the laundry basket high upon her hip and continuing on her way towards Prunaprismia's chambers. A part of her wanted to abandon her duties and discover what was truly plaguing the royal party, but she ignored the urge. Instead, she indulged the inherently feminine need to gossip by filling her mind with images of a frumpy, tear-streaked High Queen. Catalina attempted a variety of images, each created in the hope of making her feel slightly better about her current situation, but they triggered a completely opposite train of thought.

What had caused Cara so much sorrow? It couldn't have been the High King—No, definitely not—Catalina had witnessed first hand Peter's affection for her. The thought almost made Catalina roll her eyes in contempt.

Love. What a horridly horrendous word.

Catalina half expected to feel some sort of happiness at the idea of a lover's quarrel involving two seemingly perfect people, but she felt no such relief or pleasure. If anything she felt worse. Did love ever actually make people happy? Thus far she had only seen it cause exorbitant amounts of pain. The word seemed to always have a hazy shadow of dread clinging to it. In some cases one was tempted with feelings of pure happiness, but that was only before the conditions of life ripped it from your chest—quite literally at times. The other scenario was the one that Catalina found herself trapped within. The unrequited love; the one-sided passion that the storybooks seemed to always ignore.

Further proving her point, Catalina found Prunaprismia crying on her balcony when she finally made her way into the late Queen's chambers. Prunaprismia completely ignored Catalina, which was not uncommon, but the constant sound of shaky breaths made the entire situation increasingly more awkward than usual.

Catalina wanted to scream.

And she would have, if a few mumbled words from Prunaprismia had not first caught her attention. Although Catalina could barely decipher what her Lady had said, she did catch wench and my garden, which was intriguing enough to extinguish Catalina's earlier bought of anger. In an attempt to be coy, Catalina slowly made her way over to window parallel to Prunaprismia and pretended to fix the curtains.

It took her a moment of searching to find what Prunaprismia was talking about, but her heart constricted when she finally did. The High Queen was barely visible between the pink azaleas and yellow honeysuckle, but the sadness in her demeanor was still apparent. Clovis was clearly honest in his depiction of the morning's unusual happenings, and as before, Catalina felt another bought of hatred for the sickening sweet emotion that always turned bitter at the end.

She also recalled the kindness that Cara had shown her the day before. Even though the entire situation had not turned out as Catalina had expected, the night's events were of no fault of the High Queen. If anything, Cara had shown Catalina more kindness than Prunaprismia ever could. This realization refused to leave Catalina's mind, and after sending one quick glance towards her Lady, Catalina rushed from the room and made her way towards the gardens.

Later she would wonder what had elicited such a need to console Cara, but in the present moment she thought little of her impulsive decision. It wasn't until she sped around a wall of climbing roses and caught the attention of the crestfallen High Queen that her actions began to feel rather silly.

Cara regarded her kindly, nothing behind her eyes accusing or questioning. "You're Majesty," Catalina said in a quick breath as she curtsied stiffly. The High Queen said nothing, her back and jaw so tight that both were nearly trembling. Cara's state was also vastly different from what Catalina had earlier imagined. Yes, her face was red and her eyes puffy with unshed tears, but she was still regal. The gown she wore was not the same as the night before. It was form fitting and effortless, nothing about it elaborate or ornate. Her hair was down in wild waves, with numerous haphazard pieces shielding her face, which Catalina could only guess was completely on purpose.

Despite the rampant rumors running through the castle—most of which placed the High Queen in a dim light—Catalina felt incredibly uncivilized next to the younger woman. With this thought filling her mind, Catalina looked awkwardly at the flowers surrounding them before returning her eyes to Cara and clearing her throat. "I saw you from the window," she muttered with a haphazard gesture towards the stone wall behind her. Cara glanced at the wall but said nothing. "I thought—no—perhaps—no," Catalina stuttered out before sighing deeply and closing her eyes. "Forgive me, you're Majesty." Catalina ended the strange exchange with a short crusty and a quick turn on her heel.

"Cat?" Cara's voice was hoarse, but even, the sound causing Catalina to stop abruptly. After a moment she turned back towards the Queen.

"May I call you that?" Cara asked once the two were once again facing each other.

"If it pleases you," Catalina replied shyly.

Cara's stony features flashed soft in a moment of vulnerability, her appearance looking more like a lonely girl than the Queen she was, but the change was quick, with only few seconds slipping by before her face once again hardened. "Were you sent to check on me?"

Catalina's eyes narrowed at the question. "No," she stated firmly. Cara gave no response, the weight of her stare forcing Catalina to elaborate on the true reason behind her adventure to the gardens. "You seem pained," Catalina finally explained. "I only wanted to offer some form of consolation."

Cara's face immediately returned to its softened state. "Are my emotions that easily detected?" she asked with a strained smile as she walked quietly over to a stony bench and sat down. Catalina didn't know how to answer. Royals were fickle, proud people; the truth was not always the safest route to take. Still, she could not bring herself to lie to the Queen before her.

"Yes." The response was simple, and it enticed a look from Cara that made Catalina positively sure that she had gone too far.

Then Cara laughed. It was weak and teary, but it was sincere. "I think I'm going to like you," Cara managed to say through her sounds of choked amusement. "Here," she added as she patted an open seat beside her, "sit with me."

Catalina complied, though hesitantly. After a moment Cara's laughter died down into muffled sighs. "I'm sure you're wondering why I have no composure today," Cara stated as she rubbed her face with her hands. "And I must commend you on your control, for you have managed to not press."

"You need not tell me anything," Catalina responded quickly, her body instinctively recoiling.

"No—no." Cara's slender hand grasped Catalina's wrist as she went to move. "Sit," she added with pleading eyes. "Peter's sisters have been no comfort to me. That's why I came here, really; to escape the ever soothing words of Queen Susan the Gentle." The bite in Cara's voice was easily noticeable.

Catalina couldn't help but smile. She knew little about the High King's Gentle sister, but in her short time with her, Catalina had managed to decipher a rather judgmental tone in nearly everything the Queen said or did.

In the time that Catalina had mused to herself about the Gentle Queen Susan, Cara's face had returned to its blank state with her eyes staring unfocused at a flowering bush across the way. Her abdomen and thighs were aching in a foreign way. The pain was dull and constant, with changes in position causing it to increase for short bouts of time. She concentrated on the hurt, for it was far less painful than the tear that was now in her heart.

Slowly the tears began to fall. They were silent and few, but they were enough to draw Catalina's attention away from her own thoughts. Cara's hands we placed securely over her stomach where her body seemed to bend slightly as if protecting itself. Cautiously, Catalina wrapped her arm around Cara's shoulder and pulled her tenderly to her chest. The Queen followed easily, her tears cooling Catalina's skin as she rested against her.

The two stayed like that until the sound of a nearby bell echoed throughout the castle.

"The gathering," Catalina stated in one quick breath as she went to detach herself from Cara. The High Queen gathered herself up gradually, obviously less enthusiastic about the entire ordeal.

"We should probably hurry." Catalina was already standing and shaking her skirts out by the time Cara had managed to sit up straight and wipe the tears from her eyes.

"I'm not going," Cara replied.

"But you must," Catalina insisted. "Don't you wish to hear your Lord speak? Perhaps his words will bring you comfort."

"It is his words that have destroyed me," Cara retorted resentfully. The anger in her voice shocked Catalina, but the feeling did not last long, for only a moment later Catalina crouched before Cara and pushed a few stray hairs from her face.

"Then show him you are strong."

BBBBBB

Peter felt slightly less miserable as he walked towards the large courtyard where the gathering was to be held. His siblings surrounded him, all with their chins held high and their eyes attempting to show some form of excitement. None wanted to leave, but only Peter tasted the true bitterness of what the action actually meant.

Only Edmund's words and Dr. Cornelius' strange drink seemed to bring Peter any form of comfort. Even though he knew in his heart of hearts that he and Cara were parting, Peter attempted to cling to the hope that Aslan had some further plan for both of them.

Much of the castle was already assembled by the time the Four had arrived and made their way to Aslan and Caspian, who were situated higher than the rest and near a large, gnarly tree. Aslan greeted them with a nod of his head, while Caspian offered a weary smile. Glenstorm, Trumpkin, Reepicheep, and Dr. Cornelius were also present, though they stood off to the side and a little further back.

Peter led his siblings off to the side as well; he had no reason to speak, and therefore no reason to be the center of attention. If anything, Peter wanted nothing more than to disappear. Lucy waved a hello at Trumpkin, while Edmund and Susan talked quietly with each other. Peter occupied his time by attempting to locate Cara in the mass before him. He wanted to see her one last time, even if the moment would only make the entire situation worse.

"I thank all of you for coming today." Caspian's voice cut sharply through Peter's thoughts, whose eyes began frantically searching for Cara at the realization that he might leave without ever seeing her again. "I know that some of you are wary of the changes that have recently occurred, but Narnia belongs to the Narnians just as it does to man. Any Telmarines who want to stay and live in peace are welcome to, but for any of you who wish, Aslan will return you to the home of our forefathers."

"It's been generations since we left Telmar," a man that Peter did not recognize stated from beside Glozelle and Prunaprismia. The crowd began to shout words of agreement.

"We're not referring to Telmar." Aslan's voice was loud and deep, the sound calming some and terrifying others. "Your ancestors were seafaring brigands—pirates run aground on an island. There they found a cave, a rare chasm that brought them here from their world; the same world as our Kings and Queens."

Peter and Susan looked instantly to each other before sharing glances with Lucy and Edmund. None had expected this. It seemed logical, as they were once the only humans in Narnia, but the idea of others coming from their world to Narnia brought about feelings of intrusion.

"It is to that island I can return you," Aslan continued. "It is a good place for any who wish to make a new start; a good place for any who can no longer call Narnia home."

The latter part of Aslan's speech seemed to be directed to a small corner near the back of the group. Slowly the crowd turned, all attempting to find the one person that had wholeheartedly captured the Great Lion's attention.

Carefully a figured stepped forward. Peter strained to see who it was, but it took a few long moments of the crowd parting for him to finally catch a glimpse. His breath hitched in his throat when he did, and it took all of his strength and the tightness of Edmund's hand on his forearm to keep him from running towards her.

No matter what state Cara was in, Peter had and would always find her breathtaking. Apart from the redness that covered her face and the hand that was clinging tightly to another who was trailing her, she looked every bit the High Queen that she was.

After a moment of walking, Cara glanced quickly towards Peter, her eyes sad with longing and regret. The sight filled Peter's mind with visions from the night before, but they were different from the morning's vague memories. They were vivid and enhanced with moans and whispers. Peter's stomach tightened as he continued to remember. There had to be another option. He could no longer believe that this was the end.

Finally Cara reached Aslan, at which time the person trailing her, who Peter soon recognized as the maid that had nearly ruined his afternoon the day before, whispered something in her ear before releasing her hand and stepping away.

"Dear Heart," Aslan started as he sat lightly onto his haunches, "why do you tremble? Come; let me breathe on you." Cara closed her eyes as Aslan's warm, sweet breath caressed her face. The weakness in her limbs instantly dissolved, and a smoothing, fluid sensation filled her body. With one last, deep sigh, Cara's eyes fluttered open. The world already seemed brighter.

"You," Aslan continued, "like the rest of your people, have a choice."

"I don't understand," Cara responded in an even tone. Truly, she didn't even understand why she was there. The simple sight of Peter was already bringing forth another bout of tears. What would she do when she actually had to watch him go?

"Caspian is not the first Telmarine to save Narnia," Aslan stated confidently.

Cara's heart all but stopped. Was Aslan implying that she—Cara Noor, High Queen of Narnia, Protector of Cair Paravel, and creator of Aslan's How—was a Telmarine? Cara's anger immediately overcame all feelings of sadness and fear.

"I am no Telmarine," Cara responded, her voice suddenly thick and vehement.

Aslan seemed unfazed by her denial, his twitching tail the only indication of his emotions. "In heart, you may not consider yourself among the people that so long ago destroyed the castle that you called home, and murdered the creatures that you called family, but your blood is their blood, and your forefathers are their forefathers."

Cara stood silently, her eyes shifting quickly over to Peter. She felt overwhelmed and unexpectedly alone. Peter offered her a small nod of encouragement, his chest swelling with hope at the possibilities that arose with Aslan's words, but the fear in Cara's eyes kept that hope from completely filling him.

"Will I return with Peter?" Cara questioned with her gaze still locked on the High King.

"No," Aslan stated simply, his words causing both Cara and Peter to looking quickly towards him, "you will return to the island from whence you came."

"But this island is in my world?" Peter interjected as he stepped closer to Cara and Aslan. The Great Lion regarded Peter with warm, calm eyes.

"Yes."

"I'll find you," Peter stated with conviction as he grasped Cara's fingers firmly between his own. His world was vast and filled with unimaginable dangers, but none of that mattered now. Peter relished the promise of adventure and the knowledge that he and Cara would not be separated by an impenetrable wall of time and space.

But when Cara's eyes found Peter's they were wide with uncertainty. Only moments ago she came to watch the man she loved depart to a place that she could not follow. She had resigned herself to the fact that her adventures where over; that life would now be nothing more than a quiet existence in a Kingdom that she had once called her own. She could survive if Peter was beside her—she knew that—but how long would it be until that moment was possible?

Months? Years?

"Cara," Peter whispered as his fingers trailed down her cheek, "please."

"I'll go." Everyone turned at the wispy sound of a female voice.

"Catalina?" Cara questioned as the girl stepped forward, her eyes looking only at Aslan.

"I'll accept the offer." Catalina's voice was far stronger than before, and with determination she moved beyond Cara and Peter and towards the Great Lion.

"So will I." The crowd erupted into mumbles as the General that they loved so well followed.

Catalina's face turned a deep shade of red as Glozelle climbed the steps to stand beside her. "If it wasn't for Cara I would withdraw my decision," she said in a harsh whisper. Glozelle looked annoyed, but offered no reply.

"We will go too." Mumbles turned into gasps as Prunaprismia with her child in her arms and an important few surrounding her made their way towards Aslan.

Aslan looked kindly on the newly formed group of travelers. "Because you have spoken first, your future in that world shall be good."

Both Catalina and Glozelle would forever remember that way Aslan's breathe danced across their features and covered them in a blanket of warmth. At the same moment, the sound of splitting timber ricocheted across the valley and through the courtyard. All watched in amazement as the gnarly tree situated behind Aslan began to twist until it split apart to reveal a hole the size of a doorway.

Glozelle stepped forward first, his footfalls trailed by Prunaprismia and her small group. Catalina glanced quickly to Cara, a small smile gracing her features. "See you soon," she stated softly before moving towards the gateway between the tree.

Before the group had even reached the swell of the tree's roots, they were gone. A gasp of fear and disbelief wafted around the assembled group, even Caspian stared with wide, stunned eyes. Without warning the mumbles and huffs turned into jeers and shouts of protest. "How do we know he is not leading us to our death?" cried a voice from way in the back. Sounds of alarm and agreement quickly followed.

Aslan ignored the taunts and turned to Peter. Understanding his intent, Peter nodded in reply before looking steadily to Caspian. Slowly he walked towards that young man that was now King and without any words or grand announcement, pulled Rhindon from its sheath and placed it in Caspian's hands.

Caspian grasped the sword tightly to his chest. "I will look after your Kingdom."

"It's your Kingdom now," Peter responded with a sad smile.

With one last nod and a firm grasp to Caspian's shoulder, Peter returned his attention to Cara. Her face was calmer and her demeanor less shaken, but the hesitation in her eyes pulled at Peter's heart. Slowly he reached his hand towards her, every piece of him praying that she would close the gap between them and trust in his earlier declaration.

He would find her.

Cara looked wistfully at the landscape beyond the tree. Could she never again run through the rolling hills of the valley, or dance among the willowy dryads and cloven hoofed fauns? Could she forgo ever riding Alvaro again or looking up at the stars where she knew Altair was watching? Could she say goodbye to Narnia forever with nothing but the simple hope that Peter could find her amongst the chaos of a whole new world?

Carefully she returned her gaze to Peter. He was beautiful in the mid-morning light. The sun reflected off of his golden head, and his eyes glowed in an unusually bright blue. Whispers and memories from their stolen moments together filled Cara's mind; their first kiss under the flickering light of a nearby torch; the vision of Peter's face that kept her strong while she battled for her life deep within the very walls that surrounded them now; the fear and pride that filled her heart as she watched Peter battle Miraz for the glory of Narnia, and finally the sound of his voice and tears as he covered her with his love on what both believed would be the last night together.

But was he enough?

"Yes," Cara whispered; the answer so quiet that only she could hear it. Suddenly all hesitation slipped away, and with a few confident steps, Cara placed her hand securely in Peter's and smiled. A shaky sigh passed Peter's lips as his fingers grasped tightly to hers.

They didn't have forever, and only Aslan knew how long they would be apart and what new adventures the journey would take them on, but what they did have was a promise that someday, possibly beyond oceans and Kingdoms and time, they would be together again.

And that promise was more than enough.

GAH! I can't believe FTE is actually over, but YES, as I'm sure some of you are wondering, there will be a sequel. I hope that the majority of you are not disappointed with the ending. This is what I had planned from the very beginning, as the next story is the one that I really wanted to write because it gives me *almost* full control over the storyline. I plan on going back through FTE and fixing it up a bit before starting on the sequel, but I hope to have the first chapter posted soon, so keep a look out! Cheers to everyone that read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited. I enjoyed writing this immensely, and all of your comments and criticisms helped to keep me motivated and better my writing. I truly cannot thank you enough! Much love!