Faolan and Morgan found a Valdemaren camp as darkness fell, and decided to stay there. They were still deep enough in Valdemaren territory that Faolan considered it safe enough. And it was cold. Faolan didn't want to Change so deep in Valdemar either. So when the saw the flickering orange lights of campfires, they turned towards them.

A scout greeted them almost immediately with a drawn bow pointed at them from only ten feet away. The man was dressed in clothing that looked like it was once blue, but was fading into brown from use and wear. A heavy fur cloak hung over his shoulders and chain mail glistened beneath it. Under his hood, dark eyes glistened suspiciously.

"Herald Faolan and Herald Morgan," Faolan announced, feeling odd to be calling herself a Herald so openly… Her spying ways died hard.

"I see no Companions," the scout answered coldly, "You wear no Whites."

Morgan straightened up and spoke before Faolan could, "Need I perform the truth spell or exemplify my gifts? We are no werewolves or Karsites in disguise, sir."

"A little proof would be good," the Scout acquiesced with a sharp look at Morgan. His voice was still laced with suspicion. Faolan was impressed, and saddened at this aspect of war… It hardened everyone, made suspicion and paranoia part of life.

"Then I shall cast the truth spell," Morgan said.

The Scout was perfectly still, and then he gave curt nod. Morgan relaxed, and lifted his hands, then murmured the incantation that summoned the little blue air elemental, the Vrondi. Faolan, who was watching the Scout, was startled when he suddenly let out a small gasp, staring at her head. She jerked her gaze at Morgan, about to question him- but then realized it made sense. Cast a truth spell so he can see the Vrondi.

"I am not a Herald," Faolan said, looking back at the Scout. She felt nothing, but by the expression in the Scout's eyes she could tell the Vrondi must have disappeared when she told the lie. She glanced at Morgan and grinned.

The Scout lowered his bow and motioned for the two of them to follow him into the camp. Faolan and Morgan stepped forward, Faolan feeling glad that soon she would be around warm fires and sleeping inside a warm tent.

The camp was fairly quiet, most the tents were quiet. As they walked in, Morgan explained that they just wanted a place to sleep for the night, and would be gone early in the morning. The Scout nodded, and didn't say anything in answer. He led them to the Camp's Captain, where they had a short discussion and the Scout slipped out, presumably going back to his position. They were given a tent to stay the night in and invited to have dinner in the mess tent.

Gratefully, they head over to the tent they were directed to- Morgan leading and Faolan trailing behind. She had expected to be the leader in this little expedition of theirs, but until they reached the werewolves, Morgan was older and as he didn't and couldn't know about her past lives... he took the lead. Faolan didn't really mind, in retrospect.

The mess tent was quiet, its thick canvas walls muffling most of the noise that went on inside. Even inside, it was fairly quiet. Murmurs filled the large tent. Two long tables were placed side by side and a large fire burned in the middle, the smoke funneling out of a small opening in the top. It was smoky anyway. But it smelled wonderful.

Her stomach rumbling, Faolan followed Morgan as they sat down at the end of the one of the tables. The tent was about half full, so there was room to seat them. Morgan almost immediately engaged in conversation with one of the soldiers sitting across from them, not revealing he was a Herald but acting as if he too, were a soldier. Faolan watched him for a while, amazed at his ability to just talk to people. He was still being his normal, almost sullen self, but the words that left his mouth just pulled others in. He hadn't been like that when Faolan first met him… in fact he'd never been like that with her. She felt a sudden sadness… what was she to Morgan? Some up-jumped trainee? She frowned and made a point to herself to have a real conversation with him the next day.

There was dishes with food laid out along the table, and so Faolan just reached out and took a chicken leg, munching on it as she peered around the room. The second time she scanned the room a face caught her eye. She paused, and frowned, peering through the hazy smoke and dim lighting, trying to figure out where she recognized the face and wondering why it was making her heart pound.

It was an older man, not really old but not young either. Faolan would have put him in his thirties. His hair was short and Faolan thought it might be red in this light. He had a sour expression- but the war made everyone look sour. Was he someone she had met at Haven, those long years ago as a Herald trainee? Somehow that didn't seem right…

He glanced up, their eyes met, and suddenly Faolan felt faint, because she knew whose eyes she was staring at. She took a deep breath and grabbed the edge of the table for support. Morgan looked over at her, frowning.

"Faolan?" he asked. She glanced up at him and gave him a grin- wondering whether she should put her head down, hope he hadn't recognized her, and just finish her dinner, or run out of the tent, hope he hadn't recognized her, and go to sleep and forget it ever happened.

She put her head down and starting chewing on her chicken, not sure of anything… she sure as hell didn't think she wanted to see him again but then again… she was curious. Would he recognize her after eleven years? She vaguely heard Morgan start up his conversation again, something about supply lines and guerilla warfare.

Then a heavy hand landed on her shoulder, and a craggy voice said, "Hello Faolan."

Faolan slowly lifted her eyes and peered at the man that stood behind her. But before she could say anything Morgan had leapt to his feet and grabbed the man by the cuff of his tunic, yanking him from Faolan.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" he growled, and to Faolan's surprise she recognized in him the signs of the werewolf coming through. She knew he wouldn't change, not here- but had they been in a pack he'd already be half fur covered.

The man, the soldier, said to Morgan angrily, "Get your hands off me, you big lout."

"Faolan?" Morgan glanced at Fao, his eyes burning. Faolan wondered for a moment why he had reacted so violently… but then she remembered the tone in her father's voice when he said hello to her, and she shuddered…

"Let him go," she said, and Morgan's hold relaxed- albeit reluctantly.

Faolan thought back to her childhood, surprised to find it so hard to remember, and dredged up the name- John. She stood up, her hunger completely gone, and looked at her father.

"What do you want?" she demanded, her voice low, trying not to think about the fact that she was inordinately scared.

Faolan's father stared at her, his eyes going over her face, her clothing. His expression had lost the anger, though he cast a cautious glance in Morgan's direction every once and a while. Instead, he now looked… curious. Amazed?

"You…" he said softly, like a statement, then shook his head, "What happened to you, Faolan?"

Faolan stared at him. She had thought… he had sounded… she had the feeling that he wanted, at first, to drag her back home and give her a whipping- but now… he just seemed interested and somewhat amazed that at the situation that had brought them together again. In all Faolan's lives… the ones she could remember anyway, none of them ever had anything happening in them quite like this. This life, this Faolan life, was full of strange events- marked by strange events. She took a deep breath.

"Long story," she said, "I never found Ma"-

Morgan cleared his throat and Faolan glanced at him. She had almost forgotten he was there.

"Um… Morgan," she said, "This is my Pa- John of Dufret… And Pa… this is my friend Morgan."

John looked as if he didn't quite believe he was her friend, per say, but let it go at that. He gave a nod to Morgan, but looked mainly uninterested. Faolan wondered if he thought she had become some sort of whore… She wondered if she should say they were married, but decided against it. Let him think what he wanted.

"Your Ma returned," John said, turning away from Morgan again, "Came home about three weeks after you disappeared."

Faolan didn't know how to answer that- didn't know what it implied. So she stayed silent.

"Ran off again about two years ago," he added, when Faolan didn't answer, "With some merchant."

Faolan wondered at his tone of voice. He sounded… almost repentant. Like he was sorry it had happened. All of a sudden Faolan realized she didn't care. She didn't care where her Ma was, or why she had left, if he was still abusive, if he was sorry…

"What do you want?" she asked again.

He looked almost startled at that- like it should be obvious what he wanted. He seemed to flounder for a moment, then said, "I want to know where you've been all these years, Faolan… you're my daughter."

"No I'm not," Faolan said, and shook her head- for she had just realized it was true, "My father's name is William Sommer- and my mother's name is Rathmir Sommer. My name is Faolan Sommer. Who are you?"

John looked flustered. Faolan stared at him defiantly. With a confused sigh, he turned around and left the tent. Faolan could only assume he'd finish eating. She watched him leave with something near relief and something near not caring. She hoped she'd never see him again.

OOO

Faolan and Morgan sat down again and finished eating in silence, though Faolan could feel Morgan's curiosity the whole time. Later that evening, when they went into the tent the camp had let them use, and as Faolan was laying out her bedroll, Morgan spoke.

"So that was your Father?" he asked softly from the other side of the tent. His back was still to her.

"Biologically, yes," Faolan said, hoping she sounded like she didn't want talk about it. Because she didn't.

"Was he abusive?" Morgan asked. She glanced over her shoulder and met his eyes, wondering why he was asking her. Did he think she needed to talk about it, that it was an unresolved part of her past? What did he think?

"I was Chosen when I was three, Morgan," she pointed out, "It was a long time ago."

He looked slightly surprised- she supposed he hadn't realized how early she'd been Chosen. She wondered what the general populace of Heralds thought about that… if they thought about it at all.

"Some things never die," Morgan said, sitting down on his bedroll and pulling off his boots, "And you didn't answer my question. Though you don't have to, if you don't want to. I just asked because I know what it's like."

Faolan sat down as well, sitting so she could face him, and she stared at him in the faint light that came through from outside the tent. She could barely make out his face. She wondered how well he could see her.

"When did Genevieve Choose you?" Faolan asked, feeling suddenly curious in a strange way… John had been her first experience with abusive parents in the childhood. She'd had some rough lives, been in some tough situations, even as a kid… but not quite like those first three years of her life as Faolan.

Morgan recognized immediately what her true question was- she wondered if all those who had abusive parents had that sort of connection- that sort of understanding. She wondered why they hadn't felt it before.

"I was Chosen when I was twelve," he answered, "Genevieve came up to me in all her white wonder and took me away from a life that had been hell."

Faolan stayed quiet, sitting on her bedrolls, watching him. Waiting. She had the feeling he was telling her for her sake, and not for her own. He saw her as a fourteen year old, a child still; he had no reason to see her as anything else. In some ways… it was a relief. The werewolves had treated her as she was her physical age, but she had been so busy doing things that weren't for a child her age that she hadn't really been able to enjoy it. Faolan smiled.

"You're not the only one out there," Morgan said, and Faolan wanted to say I know, but she stayed quiet.

Morgan pulled up the sleeves of his tunic, revealing twin scars that ran up his arms from his wrists. He ran a finger along one, then said, "I tried to kill myself when I was eleven, but my mother found me before it was too late. For that, I am eternally grateful. When Genevieve Chose me, I was about to try again. Except I wasn't fooling around with knives that time. She found me standing on top of Waterman's Cliff. It was a hundred foot drop, straight down. No bushes to catch me. Only rocks. Rocks on the bottom too. The wind was fierce up there… but Genevieve took me away from it. She saved my life."

"Raul saved my life," Faolan said suddenly, speaking up from the darkness, "I had run away from home- when I was three. My Ma… she had left about a week earlier I think… but it felt like years. Most of my memory of that time has gotten pretty hazy… I suppose Raul saved me from that as well. I would have died from my bite wound if she hadn't come along, still half a filly herself, and killed the werewolf that had done it. He was crazy, Morgan- he wasn't from the packs… He was what I would have become if I hadn't died from the bite and hadn't been Chosen. He was what you would have become."

"I guess we're both lucky then," Morgan said with a sigh, and shifted around to lay down on his bedroll, flat on his back, so he was staring at the top of the tent.

"I guess we are," Faolan said, and lay down as well, with a smile.

A/N: Wow that feels short! Though it's not... Hmm. :) I really liked writing that chapter. I hope you liked it too. Thanks to those who reviewed the last chapter!!
SwiftShadow- Was this soon enough? Ha- stupid question. Of course it wasn't. I shall try to have the next chapter up within five days!
nohaydeque- Yeah but there are multiple elements in a story that make it publishable... I think I have better stuff than this would be de-Lackeyized and I'd rather write them and get them published first. Dunno, though. This chapter makes me love this story all over again. :)
LightningStorms- Oh yeah. It's gonna be fun. ;)
GinaStar- Yay! I'm glad people still like this... after all this time! Four more chapters after this one... So close to the end! This chapter wasn't actually in the layout. I thought of it like two days ago. So it's an extra! It'll probably end up being more than four chapters. I think there was six chapters left for like three or four chapters... :)
StormyPhoenix- And you still don't know her idea! Mwahaha.
Clarissa- Woot! I love hearing from people who have just read the entire thing just because I love doing that myself... reading whole stories in one go. :)
cosmicfalcon- Thanks and okay:)