A/N: Greatest apologies about the exceedingly long time between this chapter and the last. I never understood how authors couldn't find time to write a chapter a week- then along came my own senior year and here I am, making the same excuses as all those others! No fears though, I promise this WILL be finished... even if it takes a little longer than I had hoped.

"Roscoe, Sigourney, and Toril are going with you," Skylar informed her over breakfast, chewing on a loaf of bread.

"Huh?" Faolan said, confused at first as she looked up at the leather clad werewolf. Low, heavy clouds hung over them, threatening to rain later in the day. But it was warm, and rain would be refreshing, so no one minded.

"To the front," Skylar said. He sounded resigned and unhappy. Faolan was with him- if it were her choice who went to war, she wouldn't want to send a bunch of teenagers to go fight trained warriors. Even if the teenagers were, in fact, also trained warriors.

"Ah," Faolan said and then jumped to her feet and said, "I'm going? Esben said I was ready?"
"Yeah," Skylar answered. He didn't sound very enthusiastic, and then he drew her aside, away from the rest of the munching werewolves.

"Listen… Faolan," Skylar begin, "Be careful, all right? Don't go charging into any battles- I don't expect they'll put you in real danger for a year or so but don't go looking for danger, all right? True control will come to you."

"All right," Faolan nodded, having no intention of doing so. It was her duty, really, to extend her stay there as long as possible. To the end of the war, hopefully. To the day when the Karsites would be pushed back, and give up, and Faolan could go home, truly go home, all the way back to Haven, back to Rathmir and Christopher Alaska… She sighed. Not even Skylar knew that she was lying to him. Sometimes she almost wished they'd discover she was a spy just so she could leave, and no longer have to be around those who she betrayed.

I'm sorry, she thought, There's no way you can know you're sending your own side a spy, wearing the true colors of your side too. I'm sorry Skylar.

"Hey," Skylar said, and Faolan looked back up, "Did I ever tell you why I'm called Bearsbane?"

Faolan shook her head, intrigued. She wasn't really aware there was a story to go along with the title- one more than him killing a bear single-handedly type story.

"Come," Skylar said, "I'll tell you."

Or maybe he just wanted to talk to her alone and the story wasn't really the point.

Faolan stood up, handing off the rest of her breakfast to Taryn and following Skylar out of the village and into the woods that surrounded it. A green canopy whispered above them and Faolan sat down on a rock while Skylar leaned up against a tree. For a long time he was silent, and Faolan wondered if he was ever going to begin.

"I was sixteen years old," Skylar said, "On the front still, with my newly gained true control," Skylar began, "It's a wonderful thing- true control. Some people have disputed its existence, but those people have never experienced it. It exists. It's like you've been walking blind all your life, and suddenly someone lifts your blindfold, and lets you see the path you're on. But anyway… I was sixteen. The war was very raw for me then- after gaining true control I had no wish to fight anymore. But they wanted me to get a little more experience so I stayed on. It's hard, for us werewolves to be mercenaries, because mostly we just want our inexperienced young people to go fight, so they can have true control, but those who hire us want our experienced fighters, so we're a mix. Those who are good, and who can do it, stay on. I'm not one of those people, but they kept me there a little longer, letting me get some experience leading- I'm a good leader, Fao, no one disputes my position as leader here.

"Anyway, I was sixteen. I was with a scout group"- Faolan looked up sharply, remembering being Carry, creeping through the woods- but Carry died before Skylar went to the front. There was no overlap there.

"We were running through these hills at night, in wolf form, all of us but one had true control. The one was this girl a few years older than me. She had a very bipolar wolf-human relationship. As a person she was very quiet, very shy, but when she went wolf she was berserk- not out of control berserk, I quickly learned, more like she could only let go in wolf form. I don't even know why her village sent her out, she wasn't ready, so we kept her away from the front, on small jobs like this one. I was the Captain"-

Faolan slid off her rock and sat on the dirt, leaning up against the rock. Hearing the war stories was hard. Flashes, images, of scouting kept dancing through her mind. The dozing Carry was listening in now too. Despite herself, Faolan was curious now- after having been a Scout, she was eager to hear from one who had been a Scout as well.

"…so I was keeping track of her, when there was this rustling in a thicket. I thought it might be one of the enemy's scout groups, so I called everyone to halt. I couldn't get a scent of everything- the bushes were giving off this really strong smell that totally blocked everything, and I wasn't really sure what was inside. So we're all creeping around, some closer, some farther, when this bear bursts out of the thicket. Full grown grizzly, female. I think her cub was probably inside the thicket, or something. Angry as hell. Roaring like a volcano. Charged straight at me. I've almost never been so terrified in my life. Well, you know my wolf form- I'm fairly large, but no match for a grizzly. So, I was about to call run, but the girl, the untrained one, leaps out in front of the grizzly- even today I have no idea why. Somehow this bear has it in her head I'm the bad one, so she charges straight over the girl, on towards me. Well, I couldn't leave then, because the girl was lying there mauled in the side and moaning.

"I did the only thing I could. Joined that bear in battle. We were pretty far spread out, you know we can communicate over pretty big distances, so there wasn't anyone else. Just me, the bear, and the girl, moaning over off to the side. Took me two hours to get the bear down. I couldn't meet her in close battle, so I'd just dart in, rip a chunk out of her hide, and dart out. When the others caught up no one joined in and I was too busy to tell them to help- they were in shock or something… Maybe they were wondering if it was actually me. But I took that bear down. Near the end, I managed to get a good grip on her throat, and I hung on. It was an awkward position for her, she couldn't really maul me too bad, so that was that. My fur is black, but after that it was even blacker. Slick with blood. I felt right faint, but we had to get the girl back. So we all changed back to human and carried her. It was autumn too, and cold. I managed to get myself to grow some fur, but not everyone has such fine control over their change. Its all wolf or no wolf, but not with me. So that's why I'm called Bearsbane."

Faolan nodded, feeling sort of lost in thought. It was as she suspected- odd circumstances setting up battle… Bearsbane. She stared up at the trees, watching them sway way up high, the leaves all rustling.. It smelled nice under the canopy. Like dirt.

"I guess, I'm telling you this now," Skylar continued a little later, "Well I'm not sure why. But there's more I want to talk to you about."

Faolan dragged her head back and stared at Skylar, waiting, head leaning up against the rock. She kept silent, letting him do the talking.

"I think Taryn talked to you, but I want to say something to," Skylar said, "You have very good control over your werewolf form now, so you could probably survive without true control. I want you to know that. You couldn't live among us, but you could live. You're the best shot I've ever seen with a bow, but you're not a warrior. You're tough, but you're not a killer. You survive by perseverance, not by lashing out. Not by blocking the world. The front… you can go there, but I don't think you'll be able to handle it. You're a wonderful person, and I don't want to lose that spark that gives you life. If you go out there, and you fight on the front lines, killing real people with real faces, ripping them open, shooting through their throats, however you do it, it'll change you Faolan. It changes everyone, of course, but it'll change you more. I'm sending a recommendation that you don't go on the front- stick to scouting and the like, but it'll happen eventually, as a scout or no. So Faolan- if it gets too bad, if you're faced with a choice of running away or going crazy, or becoming someone who isn't you, run away Faolan. No one will begrudge you that. Especially not me."

"I think I can handle it," Faolan said, looking up at the black haired man standing above her. Carry Rolf handled it. Some of her other past lives handled it… Faolan thought back, way back, and suddenly realized that she couldn't actually remember a past life where was a mercenary. A few soldier ones, way, way back, but other than Carry she'd been living peaceful life after peaceful life. Maybe that's why I love the world so much. And Carry… she'd been a Scout. She had some combat, but not much. No open battles with lines of soldiers being slaughtered before her… Fao shivered.

"Damn this war!" I screamed, slamming my fist on the table, and then I collapsed into a chair, sobbing, my head draped over my arms. Strong hands touched my shoulders and began slowly rubbing them. My sobs quieted and then those same arms wrapped around me and gave me a strong hug. I sat up and looked up at the man above me.

"I don't like it either, honey," my husband said, eyes said. The letter sat on the table, folded back up as if it had never been opened. It swallowed up the whole room.

"It's not worth fighting for!" I insisted, looking up at him fiercely. Then I stood, meeting him almost eye to eye and repeated, "It isn't worth fighting for!"

He looked away from my piercing gaze, staring at the wood grains, I imagined. When he looked back his expression was grave and he said, "I think it is worth it. The lives of our children? Aren't they worth it?"

I looked up at the ceiling above us- at the rooms of our children. I thought of the sounds of their sleepy feet moving around up there before descending in the morning, sleepy and bemused and my ability to wake so early. Tousled hair and curls, big, bright eyes. I looked back at my husband, and my anger was gone.

"Why you, though?" I whispered, reaching out to clutch at his shirt, "You aren't a fighter."
"For Valdemar… I am," he said with a strange half smile and a shrug, "For you, for them… I am a fighter."

My fists clenched together and I stayed silent, because I knew what he meant. When I thought of our enemy, strangers, soldiers, bursting in here and- there would be no doubt in my mind if I held a sword in my hand at that moment. I sank back into the chair.

"Perhaps what I really want is to go myself," I whispered, holding my hands together in my lap, "Not sit and wait for news of the war, never knowing if each day will be your last."
"I won't die," he answered me, kneeling down and taking my hands in his own, "I promise you, I will come back for you and the children. Nothing can keep me away from you. Not war, not death."

Tears sprung into my eyes and I blinked, letting them fall, landing in quickly spreading patches on my apron. I looked back up through crystallized vision, meeting my husband's intense gaze. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, holding him tight.

Faolan blinked, and found tears in her eyes once more. She wiped them away reflexively and look up at Skylar, daring him to notice her sudden lack of composure. He hadn't come back- that husband, that life ago. He hadn't come back.

"Faolan?" Skylar asked, looking down at her, concern written over his features.

"Yeah?" Faolan asked with a wince as a tear dripped down her face, her breath coming in quicker. He hadn't come back. Just as, in this war, hundreds of husbands and even some wives weren't coming home. Herald, soldier, and commoner alike.And werewolf. And werewolf.

Skylar's face became achingly loving, and a little bemused. He leaned down quickly and pulled Faolan into his arms. Faolan dropped her head onto his shoulder and let all the tears come out- the long buildup of stress and anxiety all war based.

"Sorry," she whispered into the soft leather of his shirt, over and over and over again, "Sorry, sorry, sorry." But she whispered it so quietly that he would never hear.