A/N: And I do not yet have this finished as I pledged myself a few weeks ago I'd be by now... I'm working on chapter 37 so no worries about the steady update.

:Despicable: Raul whispered into Faolan's head as the girl lay curled up on furs. It was a week after the full moon and things had quieted down once more. It was evening, and Faolan was reporting to Raul all that she had learned- though it wasn't much use to the war effort. She supposed once she was old enough to be sent to the front, as a werewolf, she'd be of more use.

:Entirely selfish: Raul added as an afterthought, :They kill others so that they can live. But I suppose not everyone has the morals of a Herald.:

Faolan was quiet. She was torn between Raul's side and Skylar's, because she could see both. If I were just a werewolf, Faolan thought, I would take every word Skylar uttered like the absolute truth, because after going through being a werewolf alone and uncontrolled… anything is better than that. If a few more innocents have to die- it's only so more innocents won't. But Heralds don't see it like that. Every life, now, is important.

:Raul: Faolan finally said, opening her eyes to gaze at the ceiling of her newest home, :Raul… They think there's no other way. There has to be another way, right:

:I don't know, Faolan: Raul answered with a mental sigh- and Faolan wondered where she was, wandering alone in the reaches of Valdemar. She probably need a good brushing too… :I can see why they do it, and from you, a little bit of how but… No treaty will stop them from coming. That is what this means. They cannot be persuaded to stop, because for them, stopping means death. And in most people, one's own life is valued above those of others. Deep inside, no matter how kind they are. Just remember that Faolan, when you deal with those people. They're selfish, no matter how well they treat you.:

:I know, Raul: Faolan replied, closing her eyes again, :I miss you.:

:I miss you as well, Chosen: Raul said lovingly, :When this is all over…:

But she let that fall silent, for neither of them knew what the end of the war would bring. They didn't even know if Faolan would survive it. And as for what would happen when they went home, to Haven and the Heralds…

:My past lives are quiet: Faolan mentioned, changing the subject, :They have little to say for this kind of situation. One old life, really old, keeps making references to dragons, but that's pretty much it. Did dragons ever exist, Raul:

:I don't know: Raul sounded surprised, :I suppose they could have. But certainly not in Valdemar's history…:

:That's an old life: Faolan said with a mental giggle, :Huh, Raul:

:Very old: Raul answered, :I suppose dragons must have existed if you remember them. You're an old soul, Faolan.:

:But a young body: Faolan retorted with a grin and rolled onto her other side of the furs, feeling so much better for having talked to Raul.

:Why are they so angry: Raul mused a while later, as Faolan was drifting off to sleep.

:Hmm: Faolan asked sleepily, :Because of the injustice. People and wolves aren't supposed to be one. We- they think the world should suffer for dealing us such a hand. It's the melding of human intelligence and wolf instincts that breed the rage, and turns werewolves against even each other. Wolves don't howl to the moon, Raul. Only werewolves.:

And then she slipped off into sleep, and Raul retreated from her mind…

"Carry?" a familiar voice asked and I turned to see Raleigh again. He was like he'd been in the other dream, "I thought you were gone."

I wasn't sure if he referenced to the first eight years or since the dream I'd had, but it seemed to matter little. I shrugged, and moved over to him, studying his worn face.

"I'm here now," I said to him as he sat down- on what, I couldn't tell. This whole place was rather misty and undefined.

"What happened, Carry?" Raleigh asked, looking at me with a pleading expression in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" I answered. Happened when?

"After… they attacked us," he whispered, seeming to be unable to relate the experience in a normal voice, "They… they're werewolves, aren't they?"

"Yes," I said, feeling a pang of sadness in my heart. I was a werewolf too. And I knew what he spoke of. The day I died. Momentary confusion passed over me- weren't we in the past? How did he know about that?

Faolan blinked and opened her eyes, and the moment she did she felt crushed by an overwhelming misery. Raleigh, she thought, thinking of the man far away in the House of Healing in Haven. She sat up, tears stinging her eyes, and quietly moved past those sleeping near her, and out into the woods of a village. It was dark, and the crescent moon hovered low in the sky. Faolan wasn't sure what time it was, but it felt either very late, or very early. She sniffed the air- it was warm, but with a hint of cool. Fall was coming.

"Hello."

Faolan jerked around wildly, instinctively raising her lips into a snarl- but it was only one of the werewolves. Peering at him, she realized he was the one other adult who had no gone on the hunt. His hair was white, but he was not old. His skin too, was the color of cream and his eyes… Faolan couldn't tell. Mage? she wondered- but there were no Mages in Valdemar in this day and age… But the Mage Gift only bleached hair and eyes, and this man had bleached skin as well.

"My name is Aric," he said, looking over at the moon, setting behind the mountains holding in the tiny valley.

"Faolan," she answered warily, hoping he couldn't see her tears.

"So I'm not the only one who cannot sleep, then…" he said as a statement of fact. His voice was low but in a sort of musical way. He gave her a pointed look which Faolan could not define and then stood up from the log he had been perched on. His pants made little nose as he moved, and Faolan almost felt she was speaking to a ghost.

"Was it dreams that kept you up, or else?" he inquired, his gaze moved from her.

"Both," Faolan answered quietly, wanting to go off by herself, but also intrigued by this strange werewolf.

"You are not the only one in pain," he whispered and now his eyes turned upon her, almost glowing now in the way the light struck them. They were pink, almost red, and a little bit frightening.

Faolan shrunk back from him, stumbling against a tree and tripping backwards. She fell onto the hard dirt and with a whoosh, all the air left her longs. "Ohh," she moaned, trying, and not succeeding to get air into her lungs. But then the albino was above her, standing straight with burning eyes and it was then Faolan noticed the long stick in his hand, and she forgot about trying to get air into her lungs, with the fear that erupted in her.

:RAUL: she screamed as fur started to bristle over her body. The stick in Aric's hand clattered to the ground at the same time as air suddenly returned to her lungs.

"Faolan?" he asked, a concerned expression upon his face, "Are you all right?"

The fur disappeared and Faolan stared up at him stupidly. She was still gasping, each breath a little easier but she managed to nod and pull herself up into a sitting position. Aric held out a hand and she accepted, pulling herself up and leaning on the tree she'd tripped over for support. Faolan felt a presence enter the back of her mind and felt Raul staring out through her eyes, worry written over the Companion's mind.

:It's okay, Raul: she whispered, :Me being paranoid.:

Aric, seeing she really was okay, dropped to the ground by another tree, leaning against it and letting his silky white hair drape against the tree's bark. It was like a Companion's mane. Looking at him more closely now, Faolan judged him to be in his late twenties perhaps, and a person not used to doing physical labor- his hand, when she'd taken it, had been soft, and the muscles on his body didn't look like the result of years of hard work.

"I dream about home every night," Aric said, looking back at Faolan.

"Home?" Faolan echoed, wondering if he spoke of the Pelagirs or some other place.

The sky was getting lighter and Faolan heard some noises coming from other huts- the werewolves were all early risers. Then a sudden pounding of hoof beats entered her hearing and she whirled around to see a man on horseback slide to a halt near by and jump off his horse. He was dressed as a Karsite would be and Faolan felt revulsion and anger towards him immediately- a result of living with the Heralds for a few years.

"Hail!" he said in Karsite, "The caravan approaches!"

Aric stood up and moved over to him, an odd expression on his face. It was a moment before Faolan translated his words- someone in a life long ago had learned to speak it. The smell of horse entered her nostrils, thick and sweaty. It made her think of Raul- whom she hadn't physically seen in quite a long time.

"Caravan?" Aric inquired, looking puzzled and suspicious. Who was this rider appearing in their midst so early in the morning.

"Aye," the rider said, "We're camped just a mile away. Is…" he paused and pulled out a sheet of parchment, "Skylar Bearsbane here?"

"Asleep," Aric started to say, but at that moment Skylar appeared from behind Faolan, looking dark and hulking in the early morning light. Faolan sensed he was still half asleep.

"Bring them here when the light comes," he growled, and the Karsite looked worried, for he stepped backwards and the horse let out a high pitched whinny. Faolan thought that Skylar had looked at it hungrily for a moment. No wonder the horse was uncomfortable.

The Karsite then nodded and leapt back up onto the horse and galloped off, very eagerly it seemed, into the night. Faolan peered up at Skylar, wondering what this was all about. Aric too, looked curious.

"Payment," Skylar said as he turned around to go back to his hut, "For the war."

"Oh," Faolan whispered as he disappeared with a slouch. Payment? she wondered, In gold? But werewolves didn't need gold… did they?

However, an hour later found several wagons pulled by large drafts winding into the village, filled with the sorts of things werewolves needed but couldn't get. Soap, clothing, hatchets, saws, parchment and ink… books. Faolan's eyebrows were twitching at all the things they unloaded. No wonder she never saw any werewolves doing housework. And here was another reason for going mercenary- so they could live a mobile life and still get the necessities they couldn't make on their own.

"Strange, isn't it?" a voice whispered in Faolan's ear as she watched. She jumped, but quickly identified it as Aric's, and turned around to face him.

"Why are you asking me?" she demanded, "I should be saying that to you. You've been a werewolf your whole life. You should know."

And then Aric smiled, a creepy, half smile and answered, leaning his face close to Faolan's, "No. I have not. My home was once in Haven."

A/N: Now click the review button! You MUST be able to find SOMETHING to say about this story... Even if it's just "good" or "bad". Reviews are my inspiration and with nineteen people with this on their alert list I find it hard to believe only three people are reading this story. What are the rest of you people doing? If you like this story enough to read it and/or have it on your alert list you should be able to find something to say to it. Also- I DO read my reviewers stories if they're Mercedes Lackey, Tamora Pierce, or Harry Potter... poke poke