I own nothing that seems familiar to you in this story, but you know that already. Holly is my own creation. Tristan is very irritated at me for this I assure you.

I have no excuses for the late appearance of this chapter. Real life sucks. Enough said. I promise to be a much more responsible authoress when it comes to following chapters... that is if I haven't written myself into a hole with this one. I'm taking a great chance with this plot line and I'm hoping you readers can stick with me to see it to its DRAMATIC and pleasing end. I've asked for your trust before and I ask for it again. I must remind everyone that this story is AU. Very AU- and will take a paranormal path from this chapter on. I didn't choose the 'Supernatural' category for nothing. :)

Once again thanks go to the beta team! You ladies know who you are and I love all three of you :)

"A blind man will not thank you for a looking-glass."-Thomas Fuller

Chapter 5

Alone…Alone…Alone, Holly sighed impatiently and whirled around; if she could have stalked sulkily back toward the glen she would have. Except her feet made no sound—actually, they didn't technically touch the ground, so stomping off in a fit wouldn't have worked for her anyway.

The silence that surrounded her since Tristan had left so many days ago was beginning to wear on her. She didn't even find her usual ways to pass the time as amusing as she once used to. When the isolation began to get to her, as it often did, she tended to act out in unusual ways.

Hunters did not appreciate a sudden covering of thick fog when a fine stag was within their sights. Men who tried to set fires when they knew the forest was too dry didn't enjoy the frustrating lack of a spark to their flint, or the howling wind that whipped their freshly gathered kindling about the forest. The enticement to scare a few wayward children when she knew full well their parents did not approve of their nightly jaunts into the forest proved too much for Holly. This action always ended badly and despite the strong desire to scare them, children she learned, had very high-pitched screams. She did not much care for the ear-piercing sound.

Realizing that Tristan would not be visiting her again tonight, she slowly made her way back into the glen. The desire to seek him out was overwhelming, but as always, when Holly had tried to cross the border into the clearing she found she couldn't. Why she still desired to test it was beyond her. She had learned long ago that it drained her of energy so quickly that even attempting it would leave her so exhausted that she couldn't rise for days.

The woods held her power. The forest rejuvenated her and she had been bound to it since the day she had awoken as a spirit. She loved this place and loathed it in the same turn. Even when she had been alive this glen had been her sanctuary. This was a place she could go to escape the tensions of her household, the expectations of her family, and just be Holly.

She floated toward the mound that was once the old poachers hut. She and her sister Dara had played here as children. The now moss-covered lump of ruins reminded her that many years had passed since she'd been a girl. This land had seen many changes and Holly, regardless of her best efforts, had not managed to change with them. The feeling of being trapped and alone threatened to consume her once again. She held it at bay by watching a pair of squirrels chase each other from branch to branch. Their playful antics distracted her for a moment and Holly felt herself smile despite her earlier musings.

Animals didn't always respond well to her presence, but when she was in a calmer mood they didn't exactly shy away from her. Some had even been her companions of a sort over the years and they reminded her that life carried on beyond death. Holly pushed herself into a sitting position directly on the center of the old hut. Pulling her knees to her chest and sighed deeply. She didn't need to breathe, but she found that sighing did help to relieve tension even if her lungs didn't benefit from it.

The prickling light of dawn began to paint the dark sky a pale pink. The sun would rise soon; she could feel it. And with the first touch of its rays she would fade. Holly, despite having endured this cycle for years, still despised the transition from night to day. The warmth of the sun and everything it stood for was a reminder of the things she had lost and would probably never have again. She found the cool, impartial moonlight to be infinitely more flattering and tolerable.

A strong flutter of wings interrupted her dark reverie and her wayward attention was drawn to a pair of sharp yellow eyes blinking at her from a nearby tree. Holly rose slowly. She knew those keen eyes, had known that bird since it had been a weak, tufted, hatchling. Fionn-ever a clever bird- did not stir at her approach. She only blinked slowly when Holly reached out to stroke the sleek feathers of the magnificent hawk's downy chest.

"Clever, pretty bird." Holly murmured, as Fionn circumspectly stared at her, apparently enduring the caress of her eerie fingers, and Holly felt a true smile play on her lips. If the hawk was near, its keeper was surely not too far behind. She sensed him before she saw him. His presence was like a flame, bright and burning and Holly felt drawn toward its dangerous warmth.

She turned just in time to see him cross the edge of the glen. Excitement began to build within her and a low hanging mist covered the ground instantly as a result. Willing herself to calm, she drew back the fog and was taken aback when Tristan didn't acknowledge her at first. Instead his long legs ate up large patches of earth as if he were on a mission. He walked right past her and Holly was too startled to stop him.

"Wait!" She cried, still floating in mid-air next to Fionn. Tristan stopped then, turning slightly toward her, and Holly found herself staring at a man who looked as morose as she felt.

Dark circles surrounded his amber eyes and his tangled hair was even more a mess than usual. His clothing had been thrown on in haste, but the tightly coiled tension that surrounded him radiated outward in strong waves as if it were a physical presence pushing at her.

Holly slowly floated down from Fionn's perch and cautiously approached Tristan as if he were a rabid animal. She did not want him to flee from her. She'd been waiting for days to see him again.

"Where are you going?" her voice crackled with disuse again, but she managed to form the words without any trouble. He seemed hesitant in his answer. Instead he continued to stare at her, his gaze tired, troubled, curious, but not frightened. Holly grew bolder as she came closer to him. She gave him one of her brightest and most welcoming of smiles and he looked for the first time to be genuinely perplexed by her.

"Do you have a name?" Tristan finally managed to ask and surprise must have registered on her face at the question. He looked immediately away from her then back again, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly. The wariness he was trying so valiantly to hold at bay had returned in that moment, and Holly was troubled to realized how much that perturbed her. He had no reason to be suspicious of her.

"You wish to know my name?" Holly tried desperately to hide the excitement in her voice and failed miserably. Honestly, who got excited over something as simple as that? She did apparently.

"Yes." He snapped then seemed to rein himself in. "What did they call you when… While…"

"Before I died?" Holly managed to gently finish for him. He gave her a crisp nod, some discernable emotion flashing behind his too bright eyes and gone before she could get a firm grasp on it.

"Holly. My family called me Holly." The soft words floated from her and she knew the exact moment he registered them.

He turned away from her once again and she was startled to notice the sharpness of his profile in the early dawn light. His nose had been broken, his beard could have used a trim, and a rogue braid was tucked carelessly behind his ear. Holly stared, unable to help herself as she found him fascinating. The man before her, she realized, was an astonishingly handsome albeit taciturn creature.

"Holly," Tristan mumbled to himself as if he were testing the sound of the word on his tongue. Hearing her name for the first time in over twenty-five years snapped Holly out of her ogling. She nodded, her grin encouraging. He looked back at her again, this time his keen gaze roving over all of her as if seeing her for the first time.

"How long have you been dead?" His question was blunt and to the point. Holly had to admire him for it.

"Over twenty-five years. Before I died, I had just witnessed my twentieth winter." He looked down at leaves trampled under his feet, absorbing the information she was telling him. "It was long before you came here."

Holly didn't know what possessed her to add that but she had the inclination that he needed that bit of information for some reason. Tristan's head snapped up at her words, those quick golden eyes assessing her again and Holly didn't mind it one bit. It had been so long since a man had looked at her- so long that anyone had looked at her that she welcomed his piercing stare.

"Your hair was…" his hand reached out ever so slightly toward her. Yet Tristan drew it back again so quickly Holly thought she imagined the motion. Reaching up, she fingered her own colorless locks, wondering what he was trying to say. The dreaded oak leaves that seemed to plague her tangled themselves in her ethereal locks and Holly realized at that moment how much she hated them.

"My hair was…?" She let the question linger in the air, hoping he would finish.

"Dark." Tristan bit off, "you had dark hair." Holly felt her brows knit in confusion. How did he know that?

"Yes. I had dark hair, but how did you-?"

"Come with me." He turned around in one fluid motion and was through the trees before she had time to properly react to the fact that he had just interrupted her. Tristan turned back sharply and his glare indicated that he expected her to follow him. Trying to figure out what he was thinking at that moment was impossible, his only discernable emotion was irritation at her lack of cooperation.

Shaking her head slightly Holly decided it was best not to irritate the only human whom she could properly interact with. She had no trouble trying to keep up with him. He was nimble and quick on his feet, and knew these woods almost better than she did. Holly could feel dawn's warm light creeping ever closer to the horizon and she prayed that it would hold off just a bit longer now that Tristan was here. She would hate to fade before they got to their mysterious and apparently- judging by his quick pace- important destination.

They slowed about two miles out toward the east and Holly felt an odd sense of foreboding envelop her. She had a difficult time distinguishing if it came from herself or her companion. Taking a look at her surroundings the familiarity of the woods told her she had taken this path many times before, once a month as a matter of fact.

She had just taken this path three days ago when the silver moon was nigh. Holly had been unwittingly controlled by the fingers of an invisible and undeniable energy, one that clutched and pulled at her, forcing her to relive the last moments of her life.

There was no way he could be leading her to that place. He had no idea where that place was. She tried to reason with herself, tried to convince herself to continue to follow him. They didn't have far to go.

She knew where Tristan was leading her. Holly stopped immediately and chastised herself for allowing it to happen. The elms, oaks and pines that surrounded them were darker, taller, and older.

Straight ahead it towered over them both like some giant gnarly beast. Dead, brittle leaves surrounded the base of it.

Holly hated those damn leaves even as she felt them whip around her legs and hair. She swiped at one, only to watch it pass through her hand completely unaffected. At that point she would have given anything to be corporal, to be able to crush just one.

Tristan had stopped; he stood at the trunk of the massive oak tree and stared at the ground. She watched, stunned, as he moved to his knees, his hands, spread out before him, unsettling a few of the dead leaves on the ground.

Holly felt a strange tremor go through her from his action. There was a disturbance in the earth and she shivered from the force of it.

This was not happening. They were not here. Not at this place. Not now.

"Here." He said loud enough for her to hear. "This is where you died."

Holly couldn't find the strength to speak, instead a great blast of wind barreled though the forest and the chill of it shook the remaining leaves from the branches. They floated peacefully to the ground the same way they had that one dark day. Mist curled itself around the base of the knotted oak and Holly tried to stymie her rioting emotions and failed. Before she knew it, it turned into a fog so thick she strained to see his outline mere feet in front of her surrounded them.

"Won't you come closer?" His lyrical, alluring voice floated toward her and she found it almost impossible to resist.

"No!" She shouted and another blast of chill wind followed the sound of her voice. The force of it pushed Tristan forward, blew his hair into his face and he had to brace himself against the trunk of the tree to keep from falling over.

"You died here, didn't you?" He called back at her. He forced himself to get to his feet and Holly watched as he managed to walk toward her even as leaves and forest debris flew at him from the brutal strength of the wind she was creating. Holly willed herself to calm down once again but only managed a fraction of what she had hoped for. There were too many emotions tied to this place. She would never be calm here. Could never rest easily. The battering wind slowed slightly as she forced herself to look at the man before her.

"Why did you bring me here?" She demanded, barely suppressing the urge to flee, to get away from this horrible place.

"I saw you die. Watched you bleed out. Watched you choke on your own blood. I felt your fear. I felt your pain." He reached up and touched his chest, his fingers bit into the fabric of his tunic over his heart. The raw force of his words shook her. Tristan stared at her; the burning intensity in his eyes frightened her. He looked crazed.

"How?" she managed weakly she never expected him to know, never expected him to find out how brutal her death had been.

"I dreamt it."

"Dreamt it? But how-"

"I've dreamt of you before. Only I didn't know it was you then. You came to me in my sleep as a boy. I thought I had imagined you."

"I… I…" Holly searched for an explanation as to how he could have known such details about her death. How much of her life had he witnessed in his dreams? Did he see her sister? Did he know of her family? She had known he was a Seer, that the marks under his eyes were symbols of his gift. She didn't have any idea he possessed this kind of power. A power to see memories- her memories. Could he be a messenger between two worlds? Her people believed that such beings existed, it would explain why she was so drawn to him, but for him to be so ignorant of is gifts left her puzzled. Had no one shown him the way?

"Why are you doing this to me?" He asked sharply as he attempted to reach for her, realizing a fraction of a second too late that he couldn't physically touch her. His fingers met with nothing but air as they passed through her upper arm. Tristan stood there staring at his hand, mist filtering through his fingers before he clenched it into a tight fist.

"Why did you choose me?" There was a note in his voice, a desperate underlying threat that if she lied to him it just might push him over the edge.

"What do you want me to say?" Holly asked her throat tight. She had no answer for him.

"I want you to leave me alone."

"No." Call her selfish but she couldn't do that, not now.

"You're dead." Tristan said as if that was enough to make her go away.

"And you're not. I need you." She said forcing the words out. It was getting difficult to speak, her energy stores becoming increasingly depleted. Holly had her show of temper to blame. It didn't help that the warm rays of dawn were cresting ever higher over the horizon.

"You don't need me. You only wish to torment me."

If only that were true, Holly thought to herself spitefully. Tristan could see her for a reason, she didn't appear to just anyone. She was not a sadistic creature. Holly craved interaction, wanted to know if there might be a possibility that Tristan could free her. She sensed the latent power in him even as he struggled to suppress it. She had no desire to torment him. She only wanted to be near him, learn about him.

"Even I'm not that cruel." She countered, the sounds of her words faded as they reached him. He scoffed at her; a dubious smile twisted his lips before he realized something was terribly wrong.

Tristan looked at her sharply, and Holly looked at her own hands watching helplessly as they began to disappear. Holly knew then that sunlight was beginning to break its way through the trees. When it hit her she would dissolve-her conscious would remain but her spectral form would vanish.

"Dawn has come." She whispered to herself. Gathering the last stores of her energy she drew closer to him and he did not shy away. Instead he looked puzzled and fascinated at the changes in her.

"Come back to me tonight and I will try to explain more." There was a pleading tone to her voice and she hoped that it conveyed her sincerity. Holly needed to speak with him. Unfortunately he shook his head and stepped away.

"No."

She reached toward him with the last of her strength. "Please, Tristan." He drew away from her seeking hands and Holly remembered to late how much he disliked being touched. He curled his lip; his disdain for her so powerful it showed plainly on his face and Holly once again felt a bitter sense of disappointment steal over her. Was she never to make headway with this man?

"Rot in hell." He said with a quiet fierceness, seconds before the sun hit her fully. Holly felt the very second she vanished. An extreme sense of anger shot through because once again Tristan was going to turn her away. Despite her helplessness and the fact that she couldn't stop the sun from rising, she managed to get the last word before she disappeared completely. Her words resonated throughout the forest and Holly had no doubt he heard her.

"I already am."

Tristan stalked from the area as if a beast of prey were nipping at his heals. He'd gone in search of the ghost intending to get answers. Instead he left with more questions and a burning desire to heed her request to return to her when night fell.

Fionn was impatiently circling the glen once he'd crossed into the sunlit landscape. Tristan clucked his tongue at her and she swooped down to his outstretched arm. She blinked at him, her steadfast demeanor demanding nothing. Tristan loved the fact that she was not a difficult creature. There were too few of her kind in the world.

He stroked her breast with gentle fingers, willing himself to relax. The ghost's voice still rang through the trees and he could not still the pounding of his heart nor the throbbing in his ears. Her exclamation had hit its mark and Tristan despite his best efforts could not shake loose their latest encounter.

Holly. The ghost had a name. He also knew one other fact: The ghost could feel fear. She was obviously afraid when he'd led her to that particular oak tree. She had staunchly refused to come any closer. He had felt a strange force coming from the tree, as if it wanted him to pay particular attention to it. Tristan had thought perhaps he had seen a slight shimmer of something mysterious surrounding it. A field of darkness mixed with light that had called to him and obviously frightened the ghost. Had Tristan not been so focused on the spirit's extreme reaction to the area he would have studied the big oak more closely.

Tristan had no idea what he had sought to find by leading the spirit to place of her death, but he had certainly not expected such a fierce outcome. She had a strange power over this forest, that he was just beginning to realize was tied to her emotions. This line of thinking forced him to grasp that the ghost was sentient. As much as this bothered him, Tristan could no longer believe that she was something that he had imagined or brought forth against his own will. She existed. Of this he was positive. Today had been proof of that.

If she did exist, then how had no one noticed her before? Why did she seek him now? If she had been a part of this forest for as long as she had mentioned, then why did she not come to him in her spirit form when he was a boy? Strange things had always happened to him. Tristan had always brushed them aside, paid them no heed, and he managed to scrape by day after day, wholly aware that some vital part of his make-up forever separated him from the rest of his comrades.

He thought of his mother once more. Despite his best efforts she had been weighing heavily on his thoughts lately. If she were here with him now would she be able to tell him anything? Would she even be lucid enough to answer any of his questions? Doubtful. Tristan felt his features twist bitterly at the thought and forced himself to relax his facial muscles. Pushing the emotions deep down he was able to take a deep breath gather himself and focus again.

Fionn continued to stare at him, those curious eyes of hers seeing too much. Clever bird. Tristan nudged her under her beak gently before letting her loose once more. He watched her circle the glen, soaring with a gracefulness he admired and envied in the same turn. She was a loyal companion, much like his mare Skye. They never demanded. They only accepted.

Making up his mind to fetch something to break his fast from the kitchens, Tristan began to make his way out of the forest when something peculiar stopped him in his tracks. He slowly and deliberately turned to look over his shoulder. Someone else was near him. He could feel it. It was as if a cold hand had reached out and wrapped itself around the back of his neck, its grip vice-like and unrelenting.

It was not Holly. Her presence was never cloying and dark. When he closed his eyes the only color he saw was blackberry blue- a wicked color. He inhaled sharply; a musty dampness and the metallic tang of blood hung heavily in the morning air. He walked slowly, allowing these senses he'd been honing since he was a boy lead him to the source of the disturbance he was feeling.

When he reached the stream and spied a hunched figure rooting around in the tall grass as if looking for something important, he stopped dead. She sensed him as well and stopped her harried scraping. Her balding head jerked up quickly and she sniffed the air before turning to look at him with her one remaining eye. Greasy, unwashed gray hair hung in her face. Her wrinkled countenance was streaked with sweat and dirt, but her thin lips curled in an impression of a smile at his approach, exposing the few teeth she had left. It was the hermit woman Mab.

She crooked a gnarled finger at him in invitation. She made a scoffing sound that sounded brittle, like dried bracken when he refused to come any closer. Mab continued her rooting, her movements jerky but quick for someone of her advanced age. She suddenly stopped, a great cackle escaped her, and she drew up a dagger from the forest floor- a familiar dagger. Reagan's dagger. Just when Tristan was about to intercede, Mab procured a pair of dead squirrels that had been lying by her feet.

Without ceremony she began to gut her quarry. Black fur was peeled away from their bodies and she seemed to hum with delight when the blood spilled over and onto her hands. She rubbed them together gleefully and Tristan decided then that he had seen enough. He killed for survival, to feed the villagers. Mab was taking a particular pleasure in gutting those dead creatures. Her presence had made him uncomfortable, but her show of enjoyment at having an audience as she skinned the squirrels had offset him.

Tristan turned to leave, determined to put this whole bizarre morning behind him when Mab finally decided to speak.

"Blood!" She sing-songed in a voice that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. "The blood disturbs you."

Tristan stopped and turned to look at her, his eyes narrowed. At his look Mab chuckled anew.

"You've turned your back on your blood, boy, and now you pay the price!" She slapped her hands together and her freshly coated palms splattered blood on her threadbare clothing.

"You know not of what you speak, crone." Tristan hissed, angry at himself at having endured the old woman's presence this long. Mab laughed this time, a long grating sound. A sound that carried with it a tinge of madness and of malice, it made him realize he'd tarried in her presence too long.

"You ignore fate too long and she comes a lookin' for you." The old woman fixed her eye at him in a steady gaze that spoke volumes, but it somehow portrayed a darkness Tristan was unfamiliar with. It was enough. Enough to make him realize this woman was not to be trusted, that she was obviously mad beyond words.

"Save your breath, old woman." He cast over his shoulder before he began to make his way away from the strange and grisly scene. As he stalked through the forest toward the wall, Mab called after him, her scratchy voice caring oddly in the thick forest.

"Blood will tell!" She cried, laughing wildly before adding in a shrill voice, "Penance, scout! She's your due!"

As Mab's mad laughter faded, her strange words continued to follow him like a great gust of air, pushing at his back as he exited the forest and into the harsh, blinding light of the morning sun.

AN: Old crazy Mab, has a bigger part to play in this story than you realize. Watch out for her. Tristan while mistrustful (with good reason) doesn't realize the power she possesses. Holly hasn't given up and we learn more of her back story in the next chapter (coming soon I promise). Thank you for sticking with me and my fickle ways. I had a brief moment (three months) of insanity and am now back full force. I will never willingly abandon any of my stories and I ask you readers to please bare with me. This story will take a very decidedly AU standing, but I have great plans for it and for Tristan and Holly. I know this seems like more of a transition chapter and there is a reason for that. Holly isn't going to have an easy time convincing Tristan to help her. That's all I can say right now. So sorry again for the long wait.

I want to personally thank the lovely and talented Kamiea for drawing a splendid picture of Tristan and Holly, the link to which can be found on my Profile page. It truly is wonderful. I also want to thank kvsgrl for reading and reviewing every chapter of Eternal Knight. You helped me to finally get off my behind and post this chapter! Huge thanks to you both!