Icy rain splattered against the window and Faolan shivered, feeling damp. She looked over at Raleigh as he poked by the fireplace, muttering curses about wet fuel and expressing a general dislike of city living. He was dressed now more as Faolan remembered him- and he was letting his hair grow out again. It was almost down to his ears now, and getting pretty shaggy.

The House of Healing had released him with a clean bill of health and a few incredulous stares at this fact. Raleigh declined a place in the palace barracks but had taken the gold the crown offered him with open arms, and immediately set about finding a room in Haven. When Faolan inquired as to why he didn't just go out and start being a hunter again, he answered that he wanted to get used to living normally again. Faolan suspected he was just waiting for the war to end, waiting for Faolan to come home again so they could figure out where to point their lives… if the war ended. If Faolan came back.

"Ah hah!" Raleigh said, leaning back onto his heels to watch as a small flame quickly ate up to the small twigs he had placed there and started latching onto the larger logs, "Fifteen years asleep hasn't made me lose any of my good woodsman skills!"

Faolan chuckled and moved over to kneel down behind him, leaning her chin on his shoulder as she peered at the fire. Then she wrapped her arms around him and said, "You'll fare well. You're a survivor. We both are."

"In truth, dear Faolan, I must point out that you didn't survive," Raleigh pointed out, turning his head to kiss her on the cheek, his eyes sparkling- but Faolan could see the sadness behind them.

"I don't want to go," she whispered, snuggling closer to him.

"I don't want you to go," Raleigh answered, standing up and pulling Faolan up with him. He peered around his new home, inspecting it once more dubiously. It was small, but well kept up. None of the cold rain outside was getting in, and with the fire burning it was starting to warm up a bit. There was a single bed under the window and a dresser beside it. On the other side of the room, closer to the door, was a desk and bookshelf. It felt empty, but Faolan knew once she returned it would have Raleigh's mark all over it. If she returned. She shoved that thought away and turned to embrace Raleigh, pressing herself against his chest and inhaling his scent.

"I love you," she whispered to him, "I'll come back for you."

"I love you too, Faolan," he answered, rubbing his nose against her hair, "My fire haired Herald…"

Then Faolan was crying, sobbing in Raleigh's arms. He led them over to his bed and they sat down on the hard mattress. In a moment Fao heard a low sob, and realized Raleigh was crying too. She pulled back from him and met his gaze- tears to tears.

"It's too soon," Raleigh whispered, "I've just got you back and now you're going… going to war again. To that thrice damned war. I don't want to lose you to it again."

"You won't lose me," Faolan said fiercely, though she wasn't entirely sure of that herself. As much as she didn't want to go, didn't want to go to the blood and anger and fighting again… a part of her did want to go. A part of her that called out for werewolves, that wanted to see them again, find her friends and run through the wild woods again.

Raleigh kissed her then, and the two of them fell silent, needing no more words to communicate their feelings. A while later Faolan rode back to the Collegia, hiding under a thick cloak as the rain pounded into her back and dripped down Raul's sides. Faolan, so used to loneliness, had grown used to the feeling of friends all about her, but leaving Raleigh made that old loneliness swamped over her again. As she and Raul made their way home, Fao felt the Companion wrap her in warm mental arms, comforting, reassuring…

:Thank you Raul,: she said to the Companion.

OOO

The next morning found Faolan and Morgan riding off into a cold, bright morning. The rain from the day before was gone- the only sign it had been there a dripping city and cold steam rising from houses as the sun warmed everything up. Faolan had said her goodbyes to the Sommers the evening before, and no one had seen them off. She preferred it that way. It made it easier. She didn't know if Morgan had said goodbye to anyone- if there was anyone he needed to say goodbye to. They didn't talk much about their personal lives. It wasn't what connected them.

The streets were already starting to fill with people moving around on their errands, breath steaming from their noses and mouths as they moved. Faolan realized with a pang that she would miss the Midwinter festival… Not that she had celebrated the last couple of years. Werewolves held little to yearly celebrations. Theirs was a calendar of the month. They passed a few uniformed members of the Guard, and nodded to them as they passed.

It wasn't long before they were out into the countryside, and Faolan realized as a deep part of her relaxed that she had missed the open spaces, where one could run and run and run. The Companion's Field was a wonderful piece of grass and forest in a sea of buildings but it wasn't the same… She sighed, deeply inhaling the fresh country air, ignoring the cold as it burned down her throat.

They rode all day, and by the end, she wasn't enjoying the cold so much. She was sorely tempted to grow fur, but even with the war, even with winter, there were still travelers on the road, and Faolan wasn't sure all of Valdemar was ready to accept werewolves in their midst. Raul agreed, and so Faolan was cold. She and Morgan slept in an Inn that night, as they did the entire way to the war front. They weren't on Circuit, so there was no need for the Waystations. It was odd, to stay at Inns. Faolan hadn't done it in such a long time…

She and Morgan talked little on their journey. When they did, it was about being werewolves. It was about the war. Morgan was very curious about the 'other' werewolves, as he called them, and so much of their talking was Faolan telling him the rites and customs of the werewolves she had grown up among. It made her sad, while she did so because those customs were no longer her own… Morgan was her only pack. And there was no way she could go back, even when she was going back to the front.

It took them a little over a week to reach the Queen's encampment, where Christopher Alaska was stationed, and said he would meet them. In the winter, the trees were all bare, and as they rode into the sprawling camp, with the smoke of cook fires creating a haze above the tents, it looked… desolate. They were far enough from the main fighting that there wasn't that tense edge from not knowing when the next attack was coming, but the faces of the soldiers they passed were downcast and mournful. Morgan mostly ignored it- after all, this is where he had been fighting from. But Faolan… she hadn't been into a Valdemaren war camp since Carry Rolf.

It was familiar yet so strikingly strange at the same time. It was neat and organized, all the soldiers wore uniforms, albeit some old and stained ones, the tents were ordered in very neat, straight rows and all were exactly the same make. The soldiers were older, with the demeanor of those trained all their lives to do battle. The werewolves, by contrast, were so rough and tumble… The other difference was horses. They passed several staked lines of horses, all snorting and stamping, breathing out white breath and watching them pass with curious eyes and shaggy coats.

They were directed to the camp manager- a man who wore the uniform of the guard but had the air of a trader, a businessman. He was a nervous, fidgety man, and directed them to several large, spacious tents that were given to Heralds. Alongside was another high tent, bedded down with straw, where Raul and Genevieve were to stay. Inside were already a few Companions, one which Faolan immediately recognized as Noland, Alaska's companion. There they stopped, dismounting and untacking their Companions to rest after the long day's ride. They carried their things to their new tents, and then Faolan, leaving Morgan in his tent, went off to find Christopher Alaska.

She found him inside his tent, sitting on a cot alone. He was not the Christopher Alaska she remembered. Gone was the soft looking boy- this Alaska was a man, and he was skinner than he had been before. He was more worn looking, and there was a trace of stubble on his cheeks- he'd been too young for stubble back when Fao knew him before.

As Faolan entered he looked up, and she saw his eyes were the same. Soft blue- and they were still soft, still sort of distant/other worldly. A smile crossed his face as he recognized her.

"Faolan," he said quietly, his voice deeper but otherwise the same, "I was wondering when you'd get here."

"Yeah," she said, stepping further in and pausing, wondering whether she should hug him or sit down or…

But Christopher Alaska answered that, as he stood up as much as he could in the low tent and pulled her into a tight embrace. When they pulled away, he was still smiling. She smiled back at him, then fingered the necklace she still wore around her neck. His eyes followed her hand, and the smile broadened as he saw what her fingers brushed against, though he made no comment.

"Come," he said, "Sit down. I suppose you're probably used to the cold, having been living on the front for more years than I… But I suppose we'll get into that later. How have you been? You've grown so much… I knew you were fourteen but somehow I still imagined you to as you were when you left… short, still a child…"

"And I still imagined you as you were," Faolan answered with a grin, "Short, still a thirteen year old."

"Time is funny like that," Alaska said, turning his gaze from Faolan and sitting down. Faolan copied him.

"I've missed you," Faolan finally said a moment later, when the silence threatened to swamp over them. She didn't want things to be awkward between them… not after having been so close when they were children.

"And I you," Alaska answered, turning his gaze upon her once more. He then sighed, and added, "I've wondered what it was like for you to be a spy… at your age… But you did okay. I knew you would of course… You're… not the same as everyone else."

Then he winked and Faolan stared at him, momentarily confused- she hadn't told Alaska, had she? But then she remembered how perceptive he was- he had known she was a werewolf long before she told anyone…

"I guess not," Faolan answered, giving him a smile, and said, "It didn't feel like spying, truth be told. I heard tales of you, among the werewolves. They call you the Dreamer, because you make nightmares come true."

Alaska sighed and wrung his hands suddenly, looking down at his feet as he answered in monotone, "Just what I always wanted…"

"No one wants war, Christopher," Faolan said, "Don't worry… with the idea that's poking around in my head maybe it'll be over soon!"

"Somehow I doubt it," Alaska answered, shaking his head, and then announced, "This war will never end."

A/N: Harry Potter 7 comes out tomorrow!!!!!!!!!!!! Woot:) Okay, anyway... thanks for reading this chapter! I hope it wasn't too fast or skippy or anything... For those who reviewed the last chapter, special thanks!
GinaStar- Hugs are always good. And everyone needs hugs. Hugs:)
Stormy Phoenix- What I meant, sorry, was that she as a wolf was submissive- her wolf self submitted, became subdued and repressed. But I believe I already explained that to you.
cosmicfalcon- Wow, I'm glad you think so! Thanks!
LightningStorms- Well I just added one more chapter to my layout... The last one is seventy-six. Eep. Only six more to go!
ginalee-Yup. It is quite fun to write him again. He's one of my favorite characters ever.
SwiftShadow- There is something wonderfully delicious about fanfiction, I must agree. :)