A/N: So… Here we are once again. Thank you, to all of my readers/followers/etc. Thanks to aly-angelflights, sarafine-ecleips, NinjaGirl012, The Booknerds, and TheRealProtector; I really can't tell you guys how happy the reviews make me.

My dearest Francesca,

Unfortunately, your 'feeling' was right. My parent will not hear of presenting myself at court until my darling brother returns from staring at rocks, snow and northern savages. Another year, at least, they think. Couldn't you just tell me when it will happen and put me out of my misery? Please?

Regardless, I am sorry it has been so long since I last wrote you. Ironic, wouldn't you say, since I'm usually the one that is trying to get you to write. You seem happy, and I can't wait until we can talk in person. You have to promise to introduce me to your friends. Have you gotten into any fights? Faleron always said that he lost count of the number of fight he got into. Has the palace turned you into a brawler? What about little Rain? Has he appeared to 'mess-up' your life? Tell me everything.

Ever your extremely jealous friend,

Aisha of King's Reach

Francesca grinned at the letter then made a face at her finally-out-of-the-sling-after-six-months- arm. The healers had told her that she would have some difficultly straightening it out all the way for a while, and to exercise it while bathing – the warm water would help with the pain of the exercises. (A/N: Just an FYI people, that bit of knowledge comes from personal experience.) Mid-Winter was all but arrived, and Francesca couldn't decide if she liked the chill weather, or hated it. On one hand, she preferred being cold to being hot, on the other, while training she was trapped inside more often than outside.

A sudden weight settled onto Francesca's shoulder as she stood in her room, surprised she grabbed at the thing, and spun to look behind her before she registered the soft fur and musky smell of Rain. The bobcat grumbled when she moved, turning her head she stared at the feline and raised her eyebrows.

"Do you think I'm a perch, or something?" Rain yawned in response.

Shaking her head, feeling mildly amused, Francesca put Rain on the ground, and nearly fell over as someone slammed on her door.

"Come on, Nond," hollered Traver in the hall. "Let's get this done!"

Francesca opened her mouth to respond, and was thrown into a vision. Francesca stumbled to the door, gasping, when she regained her senses. Traver banged on the door and yelled again, making the girl flinch. Quickly wiping her face and taking several deep breaths, Francesca kept her head down, and left her room.

"About time," her friends grumbled. And they all headed off to their classes – it was one week until the Mid-Winter holiday. Francesca couldn't focus in any of their classes. She felt sick and confused and scared.

About half-way through the first class, Alan noticed that something was wrong. Actually he thought something was wrong when Francesca walked out of her room, but he'd dismissed it. It looked like Francesca was sweating – or crying – she made zero eye-contact, and hadn't talked at all. Not even to make a quietly sarcastic comment to Traver. He couldn't tell if any of their teachers noticed any difference – until Sir Myles' class.

Alan's grandfather seemed to notice Francesca's unusual mood at once. He gave Alan a raised eyebrow look, silently asking what was happening. Alan shrugged. Francesca had a glassy look in her eyes, like she was in shock, but otherwise her face gave nothing away, looking calm and slightly amused, as if she knew something that no-one else did. Which, Alan thought wryly. Was completely possible. When class ended Myles asked Francesca to stay a moment, Alan also hung back, shamelessly eavesdropping.

"Is something wrong, Francesca?" the old knight asked in a quiet, kind voice.

Francesca blinked slowly at him, before giving him a slight smile that didn't come near to reaching her eyes. "Of course not, what would be wrong?" Alan frowned, when he heard the level reply. The voice betrayed false happiness, and pleasure – it was the same voice she'd used when she'd spoken to those three girls she known from the convent.

"I don't know," Myles answered. "That's why I asked. You just seem... unusually morose."

"No sir," Francesca replied. "I'm fine, but I thank you for your concern."

"Very well then, off to your next class. And Francesca?" She looked at him with a curious expression. "If you need someone to talk to, I am available." Francesca gave another fake smile and bowed, thanking the knight, before leaving.

Alan exchanged worried looks with his grandfather. Now he knew without a doubt that something was wrong.

Francesca was feeling suffocated. She needed to get away from people. All she needed to do was get through dinner and tell her friends that she couldn't study with them tonight, and then she could think. Alan was watching her with a strange expression on his face – had been since after Sir Myles class. Normally she would have asked him of something was wrong, but at the moment? There was so much wrong, she didn't want to think about any more. Parts of her vision kept replaying in her head making her was to run away.

Francesca blinked and realized that Fianola had just asked her something.

"Sorry, what," she muttered, pushing the food on her plate around instead of actually eating.

"I said, do you actually understand the math equations that Master Ivor assigned?"

Francesca shrugged and pushed her food around some more.

"I'm done," she told her friends, standing up. They all gave her surprised looks.

"Still going to meet up in the library to study?" Liam asked.

Francesca shook her head. "Not tonight." She walked away with a small wave. She felt their confused gazes on her. Francesca didn't go to her room – people would look for her there first. She walked aimlessly, trying not to think. Thinking lead to bad things.

Stopping suddenly, she looked up at the building in front of her. Balor's Needle. Francesca didn't know how long she stared at it from the bottom, before she found herself climbing it. She stopped about half-way up, resting her head against the stone wall. Every time a thought entered her head she forced herself to focus on breathing, or the movements of her legs or anything that shut out the thoughts. Finally she reached the top. She went to the railing and stared down. She had no fear of heights, but neither was she stupid. Or suicidal. She stood against the solid inner wall, she sat and put her head in her hands; finally, Francesca let herself think.

The vision –someone was going to die.

If that person –

No, she scolded herself. If you are going to think, don't be a coward. Numair. Numair Salmalin had died in her vision.

And he hadn't been the only one. The Scanran's weren't quite done with Tortall yet.

Could I stop it? Francesca asked herself. Would my secret be discovered? Francesca always knew that eventually the fact that she was a seer would come out. But she didn't plan on it being now. Thoughts raced through her head so fast she couldn't keep track of them. She felt overwhelmed – she was only fifteen – a child still.

Silently, Francesca made a list of the people who had died in her vision.

Numair, two infants whom she sensed were important but didn't recognized, the king and queen, Sir Myles, both Lady knights, several pages and squires she knew, lords and ladies. Too many to count. What chilled her the most, Francesca shivered, the killer.

No, Francesca decided. What scared her the most was the voice; the same voice that had spoken of the Protector of the Small. The voice that told her to stop it all.

"Why me," she whispered to herself. "I'm only a page – a second-year page at that. Why not a knight? Or a powerful mage?" Then she winced, remembering her vision. No, that probably wouldn't work out well. But how was she supposed to stop it. She didn't even know when…

"Wait," she breathed, jumping up to pace. "The children, maybe they aren't born. And the Copper Isles representative. We have no peace with them; maybe… maybe I have time…"

Not that you know what you could do with time, a snide voice in her head sneered. So little to go on. Maybe it all happens next week. Francesca tried to shove that voice away, unsuccessfully. Feeling only slightly less depressed and calm, she walked down, taking the inner stair once more. She met Alan at the bottom.

"What," she began.

"I could ask you the same thing," he told her stiffly. "What were you doing up there?"

"Thinking," she replied honestly.

"Thinking," he repeated. "On Balor's Needle. Where pages are forbidden to go." His words were flat.

Francesca scoffed one foot in the dirt, and shrugged, fighting a blush. Not very smart on her part. "Yes," for some reason she felt the need to explain. "I – I just needed to… get away from –everyone, everything." She shrugged again. "Seemed like a good place."

Francesca had never seen Alan lose his temper, but she realized that he was dangerously close.

"And I guess that these thoughts most have gone fine, since the palace guards won't have to clean you off some roofs, or the ground." He snapped at her and began to stride away. For a moment Francesca stared after him, her jaw hanging open.

She ran to catch up to him. "Wait a second," she grabbed his arm and forced him to stop. He glared straight ahead. "You think I went up there to think about jumping?" Francesca demanded, appalled. "Why in Shikath's name would I do that?" Finally, Alan looked at her.

"Then why were you up there?" Now Francesca was getting angry.

"I don't owe you an explanation, Alan. I was up there thinking, I already told you that," she told him warning. They were facing each other now, and Francesca silently cursed the few inches of height that Alan had on her; she hated having to look up at people. At that moment, some servant walked into the hall, and Alan let the subject drop. The two walked stiffly back to the page's wing, looking anywhere but at their companion. Francesca went into her room and started class work she used all of her focus to think about nothing but the assignment – not Alan and their almost fight, not the vision. It worked until she went to sleep; there she thrashed and fought to fall asleep. Rain finally gave up and left, disgusted with her.

Rain gave one final glare at the twolegger-friend, and left to find the twolegger-who-is-People. It did not take long before he found her, she was healing a rabbit. Rain curled his lip and waited.

I don't understand why you bother with prey; he told her when she finished. The twolegger-who-is-People smiled at him.

"They're my friends too," she told him. Rain twitched an ear, staring at her. "Did you just come for a visit?"

No, Rain told her as he washed a paw. She did the staring thing again and got frightened. Tell her to stop if it scares her. Why do twoleggers do things that frighten them? Rain flicked an ear and curled his lip. Now she won't sleep, it's irritating, because now I much watch over her more carefully.

"What staring thing?" Daine asked him, seeming confused.

Rain showed her an image of Francesca staring at nothing. She does it a lot, sometimes she's fine, and other she's afraid. Like when the cold-scent comes with the staring. Rain licked at his chest and thought. The last time she smelled like the cold-scent, she didn't sleep for a long time.

Daine hesitated. "I don't know if I can help," she told the bobcat. "I don't know what the staring thing is."

It's why she's afraid of the stork-man. Rain said irritated.

Daine blinked, and frowned. "I'll see what I can do." She promised the bobcat.

A/N: Duh, duh duhhhh! That darn Rain! He just always get Daine and Numair involved. Well, I hope you liked it! Please review!