A/N: Look! It's been a week and I have another chapter up! Maybe I will be able to keep this up finally! Please review- that really, really helps- unless you write too, you have no idea how much a few reviews makes the next chapter come easier. If you do write, then you know, and have no excuse for not reviewing- unless you don't want me to write anymore and if that is the case I want you to review to tell me why. And here is chapter forty-five:

Raleigh stood there, glorious and handsome, dressed in scouting clothes. Sunlight was on him, but I couldn't quite tell from where. He was in a memory. I wasn't sure if it was mine, or if it was his, until he turned his head and look over at me, a smile playing on his face. I wanted to kiss that smile- both corners, first one, then the other. But I didn't. I just watched him back- knowing I was keeping him here, in his coma. Knowing that I lied to him, just as I lied to everyone else in my life.

My life is a lie, I thought and looked away from Raleigh, in a sort of despair, And all for Valdemar. Are you worth it Valdemar?

I thought of my most recent emergent memory- the one of going to war, and of my once husband's words. Of course it was worth it. The Herald in me had unquestioning loyalty to Valdemar, a crazy, unstoppable desire to do good. I wondered what it would be like to have grown up as a normal Herald would. Going and being a trainee, never really fully developing that sense until getting my Whites.

It made me laugh, and I felt Raleigh's curiosity upon me. Even trying to contemplate me as a normal person was amusing- there was so much that was different. And even though Raleigh would never wake up I couldn't tell him, for fear of stimulating his soul into jumping back to his body and oh hell, do I really have the right to decide his fate?

"You make it sunny," Raleigh commented and I looked up at him, feeling forlorn.

"What?" I said, puzzled. It was sunny on him- I could see the light reflecting off his skin. There was grass beneath his feet too, bright green and shining. It was like he was standing in a little patch of life. Maybe I was really the one in the coma, and he was awake and in life. Maybe Faolan was all a dream.

"It's always sunny when you're here," he said with a smile, stretching and lifting his face to his sunlight.

"Ah," I answered.

Raleigh sensed my lack of enthusiasm and moved over to where I was. As he got closer, I felt the warmth of sunlight on my face. He leaned down and reached out to touch my hair, a wondering sort of look on his face.

"Why are you wearing white, Carry?" he asked, then added on, teasing, "Sure you're not an angel?"

"No angel," I answered with a sad smile, looking down. Sure enough, I was wearing my Whites- the ones I'd only worn once, at the age of seven. I sighed and the white disappeared, and I was wearing my werewolf leathers. They felt more comfortable.

"You've changed," he said.

I looked up at him, my eyes curious.

"Since you appeared.. things have been different," he said.

"And how long have I been here?" I inquired.

Raleigh shrugged and looked off in his sunlit lands, "I'm not sure. Time passes oddly. A month? A year?"

A chill ran through me. He really didn't know that we'd been seeing each other for five years… What would he think when he woke up? If he woke up?

:Faolan, wake up!: Raul's voice pierced her mind and the girl's eyes flicked open quickly. Birds chirped gaily. It was half light out- just after dawn. A slight dew covered everything, and Raul looked sparkly. Fao rubbed her eyes and sat up, stretching and dusting her self off, before rolling up her furs and placing them in a secure spot.

:Time to go?: she inquired of the Companion, feeling sad as she ran a hand along the mare's sleek soft coat.

:Yes,: Raul answered, pressing her nose against Fao's shoulder sadly.

Faolan had gone out to visit Raul one last time before departing for the front. Once there, she'd no longer be able to sneak off by herself to visit the Companion. It could be only a year, but it could be more than that, so Faolan made an excuse and spent an entire day and a night with Raul, sometimes talking about the front, about Raleigh, and just about nothing.

"I'll miss you Raul," Faolan said solemnly, "As I always do."

:I know,: Raul said and Faolan thought of the young filly that had chosen her over a decade ago- was it really that long?- and thought about how they'd both grown.

:Sometimes its hard for even me to recall that you're older than you look,: Raul said a little wistfully, :You've got centuries of experience locked up in that head…But you look… so young.:

:I guess I'm lucky,: Faolan said with a grin, then said out loud, "After all- how many times have you heard that youth is wasted on the young? How many times have I thought it myself? Now I get to be young again, and this time I know enough to appreciate it- while it's here."

:Don't talk like that, Faolan,: Raul asked, flicking her ears around as the birds picked up a raucous amount of noise with the coming dawn.

:We both sense it, Raul,: Faolan said softly, resting her hand on the Companion's neck, :And I've accepted it… this life was really just a second chance.:

:We shall see,: Raul replied, :Now go- go to war, sweet Faolan. For Valdemar. For Raleigh. For you.:

:For true control,: Faolan added with a nod, and picked up her things, taking a deep breath of the wild air. She looked to the east, where the sun was peeking itself over the horizon, returning color to the world. Raul looked sort of ephemeral in this light, and quite beautiful.

Faolan took a few steps back towards the werewolf village, then burst into a slight jog, her hard and calloused bare feet hitting the ground softly. After a few more steps, she turned back, waved and shouted, "Goodbye Raul!"

Her heart somewhat uplifted she ran, thinking that soon she'd be returning to Raleigh- to where everything all began. To the reason she was here, the starting point of these events that had unraveled. She was returning to the front.

A few hours later she was leaving the werewolves. She was taking nothing with her- no one was, because there was nothing here that she would need at the front. The real weapons would be there, and the journey would be made in wolf form, so no food or camping equipment was needed for the few days travel. Roscoe, unusually solemn, stood beside her- then there was Sigourney, and lastly Toril. The day was still early, and all the werewolves stood grouped together. At a nod from Skylar, they shed their clothing and pulled on their fur, wrapping themselves in the change and standing before their family in furs. Faolan, small and with a reddish hue to her coat; Roscoe, pale with paler blue eyes; Sigourney, slightly darker and larger than Roscoe, and then Toril, stocky and a more standard gray.

The four exchanged glances, then turned, and together bounded through the village and out in the woods, as the morning's first rays of sunlight shone over the tops of the mountains. The sun glinting on their coats, they ran, swift as the wind and silent as the growing of trees. Four lithe shapes running through the woods, up over the mountains. Towards the war.

They ran all day- and then, because none were tired yet, they ran all night, through the black and white darkness, then with white light glinting off their coats. They stopped at the peaks near the war, as the eastern horizon shown pink and the birds were waking. They stopped, paws gentling stepping on the rocks of the overlook, tongues out and sides heaving. Toril dropped herself down on one rock, under a spindly pine tree and stared North, out across the other mountains. In the distance, smoke was rising and a shiver went down her spine as she looked. The war was close.

Faolan sat down and watched the horizon for a long time, watching the day come to life. When she finally settled down the others had all fallen asleep.

A few hours later Faolan woke to find the others up, restlessly pacing about the rocks, watching the northern horizon- the direction of the front. The direction of Valdemar. Faolan was quickly awake, and she felt instantly alert and very aware of what was going on around. When she noticed where the other's gazes kept going, she felt cold all over, but did not let herself dwell long on where they were going.

It was midnight when they reached the first encampment. The moon was low in the sky, and just a sliver. Toril, the eldest and therefore the leader of their miniature pack, halted them about twenty yards off and let off a howl. Faolan, Roscoe, and Sigourney all waited, and listened, their wolfish ears pricked forward and tails up.

A long, low howl responded, mournful and curious. Once it was over, Toril immediately pushed forward, and Faolan was quick behind her. She smelled sentries as they made their way through dark trees, and she knew they could smell her too. She could smell their curiosity, and she could smell their nervousness. The front was not a happy place.

A moment after passing through the sentries, they left the trees, and Faolan's paws touched beaten down grass- so beaten it hardly resembled grass anymore, and was almost entirely dirt. She sniffed it slowly, inhaling the scents of many, many werewolves and warriors all living close together. She wondered if there were any Karsites in this encampment- she couldn't smell any, but the scent of werewolves could be cloaking it over.

Standing before them was the one who had howled. He was in human form, and dressed in chain mail and leather. A sword hung at his side. Fao guessed he had probably just turned his vocal chords to do that howl. His hair was almost entirely gray, and his face and hands- the only visible bare skin, were lined with scars. Faolan felt a shiver as she realized no one back at the village had been like this werewolf. The village was a place of dogs compared to him. For the first time, Faolan was scared.

"You may change," he growled, his voice hoarse and gruff at the same time. His fingers hovered near his sword hilt, as if a permanent movement. Faolan thought he probably slept with that sword too.

She shed her fur quickly, eager to be back with a human voice once more- two days of silence was enough. The others changed quickly as well, and as Fao crept into her human form she realized she was ravenous. Her wolf self hadn't really noticed. A soldier came over, and in his arms were bundles of clothing. War clothing. This werewolf, a younger man, still green by the looks of him, handed Faolan a pair of boots, pants, shirt, and a chain mail coat. She quickly donned them, her toes feeling odd and cramped in the footwear.

"Why shoes?" she asked Toril as she laced them up, balanced on one foot to tie the other.

"This is a land of steel," she answered brusquely, "It is not the village."
Faolan sighed. She knew that already.

The howler, the gray haired man, cleared his throat once they were dressed, and the four turned to face him once more, standing at attention. He folded his hands behind his back and leveled his gaze at them carefully, staring at each of them for a long moment before speaking.

"I am Garth, Commander of the Mercenary Forces," he paused, then added, "Of werewolves. Once a secret but now… known. It is unfortunate. What is fortunate is that we long ago learned to defend ourselves. Did you know the first werewolves, when discovered, were hunted down and murdered?"

Silence met his words. Faolan realized she had almost forgotten what it was like to be with real soldiers. When it became clear none of them had an answer to that, he turned around and said to the soldier who had brought them their clothing, "Show them to their tents and explain to them how things work around here."

"Yes sir," the soldier said, and once the Commander was gone, he turned to the new four.

"Welcome," he said with a shaky, nervous grin, "I think you'll find he's a good Commander. He's kept us alive, anyway. Mostly, that is. Uh, come on."

He gave them another uncertain smile, then turned and strutted off, leading them between quiet tents and smoldering fires, to the far side of the encampment. Faolan and Toril were given one tent, Roscoe and Sigourney another. Inside were bedrolls and changes of clothing. Faolan stripped to just her shirt then sank down onto the furs gratefully. Her stomach growled, but sleep overcame her anyway. Food could wait until morning.