A/N: Here's another long one, hope you enjoy! As always, reviews are very much appreciated, they help me keep this whole thing interesting. :)

In the low foliage by the pond, not far from the Grove, a muscular young Sylvari sat awkwardly, his knees folded underneath him, crawling under a maze of tiny braches of a shrubbery. He dug slowly with his hands in the earth, feeling the soil on his fingers.

He carefully moved the soil away from the stems to uncover the roots. A small skeleton lay there, the bones a bit out of place but otherwise nicely preserved. Trahearne was fascinated, and he gently blew the dust off the small bones. He stared for a few moments, not sure whether he wanted to touch the small remains or not. His uncomfortable position made his feet begin to sting from loss of circulation, and he shifted his weight slightly. His knee scraped past the stem of a thorny bush and he yelped, instinctively pulling back his leg and scraping himself against other thorns in the process. The stinging pain made him mutter curses under his breath, but he stopped abruptly as the thick-leafed branches above him were bent away to reveal the silhouette of a face against the light of the sun. He quickly threw the hole in the ground closed with the soil around it.

'Oh, it is just you, Trahearne!' Trahearne looked up at the face of the other Sylvari, squinted against the light and stuttered a greeting, not sure whether to take his hands out of the soil or not.

'I thought there was a Moa bird stuck in the bushes. I have seen it more often around here, they come here to drink and then get stuck on their way back.' The other laughed.

'I look like a Moa bird?' Trahearne asked, laughing nervously. He got up, trying to clean off his hands behind his back. The other flashed a smile at him that rivalled the beauty of the sunshine.

'What?'

'N-nothing,' Trahearne stammered, still forcedly wiping his hands, for lack of having anything better to do. He wanted to step out of the shrubbery, but didn't want to risk tripping over the tangled branches. 'Say, Kahedins..'

Said Sylvari looked over his shoulder as he walked back to his small baskets, and gestured for Trahearne to follow. He sat down at the poolside and started washing some fruit. After a moment's hesitance, Trahearne stepped over the bushes, carefully keeping his balance, and sat next to him. He cleansed his hands in the cool water, watching the soil spread out and float away. Kahedins glanced at him, waiting for him to continue speaking.

'What, uh, what are you doing here? Weren't you working on the houses in the Grove?' Kahedins smiled, then sighed.

'Yes, I was. But I needed some fresh air, I think.' He stared at the path leading into deeper, darker parts of the forest. 'Time to think,' he added, more to himself than to the other.

Trahearne looked at him. Kahedins' face was smooth, his skin a healthy colour of light green. He looked in all aspects like a sapling, fresh and young.

'About what?' Trahearne forced out eventually, trying to sound casual. He noticed his heart beating slightly quicker than usual, so he looked at his hands, rather than Kahedins' face, to stop the other from noticing. Kahedins sighed, suddenly rather sad. A moment went by where none of them spoke.

'It's just.. I don't like the others being gone so long, you know.' Kahedins mumbled, and Trahearne nodded in agreement.

'It is strange without them. The Grove feels emptier, don't you think?' He answered softly.

'Yeah,' Kahedins said. He picked another handful of fruit and rinsed it. Then he lifted his hand and offered Trahearne some of the wet berries. 'Would you like a few?' Trahearne hesitated, then shook his head. Kahedins looked at him for a moment, questioning, but then shrugged and threw the berries in his own mouth. He grabbed another handful and rinsed them, setting the clean ones in the other basket.

'Do you miss him?' Trahearne suddenly blurted out. Kahedins stiffened for a moment, then sighed, and nodded slowly.

'This is where I last saw him. I don't even remember how many days ago,' Kahedins murmured, not looking up from his work. 'He went down that path,' he vaguely waved at the dark forest, 'and told me to wait for him.'

'Which is what you are doing?' Trahearne replied slowly.

'Which is what I am doing.' Kahedins face was still downturned. Trahearne felt unpleasant, like he was overstaying his welcome. Yet Kahedins' presence was so oddly addicting.

'I'm sure Malomedies is safe.' He said, after a while. Kahedins did not respond. 'He will have great stories to tell you when he returns.'

The birds chirped loudly. Trahearne found looking at Kahedins' hands caressing the water and fruit was strangely entrancing. It made time seem to slow down. Then Kahedins' soft voice broke the spell of silence, no matter how gentle the sound.

'I wonder if Faolain found Caithe in the end,' he set the berries in the other basket and grabbed another handful. 'Or if they are both carving their own paths now.' Trahearne nodded. He wished he could say something, anything to make the other Sylvari feel better, but he didn't know what. Suddenly Kahedins sighed and picked up his baskets.

'I'm going to the Grove. Malomedies is not coming back today.' He walked away without much more of a greeting. Trahearne watched him go, a slight cold feeling in his chest.

.

An unusual group of travellers, two Norn and two Sylvari, were climbing the mountains of the Shiverpeaks in the early hours of the morning. They had left their makeshift encampment for the night behind them, and extinguished the fire with snow. The icy blanket that covered the land came higher than their knees now, and they had to wade through it. The leather straps of the men's armours were soaked, their iron plates covered in a thin layer of crystallized ice.

Caithe shook the ice out from in between her leaves, suddenly longing back to the tropical temperatures of the Grove. She had not spoken much to her companion yet, the cold and exhaustion slowly taking its toll on her. The Norn were faster than them, their long legs wading through the snow more easily than they did, and she struggled to keep up.

A long, pained cry suddenly pierced the cold air. The group stood still, readying their weapons, when another long wail reached them. Ron ran forward, looking over the hill.

'It's coming from the plains', he said, peering through narrow eyes. The sun broke through the misty clouds and he shielded his eyes from the light. 'Knut!' He called over to his friend, 'Tear me some leather strips!'

'What for?' Caithe asked, her voice thin and brittle. She held herself, rubbing her arms and shivering slightly.

'So we don't go snowblind,' Knut said, as he cut out four long, narrow strips of leather, and cut a slit in each one. He bound one over his eyes, tying it with a knot at the back of his head. 'It shields the light reflecting from the snow, and avoids damage to your eyes. It's a Norn trick,' he laughed, as he handed two strips to Caithe. She gave one to Faolain, who took it silently.

'We'll cross the plains, and the lake,' Ron decided. 'It's generally in the right direction, and I want to know what made that sound.'

Caithe felt strange with the leather over her eyes. It was thick and warm and it smelled like animal still. The strip lay heavy on her eyelids, and filtered out most of the light. She could see better, the snow seemed sharper and more clearly defined against the misty-white clouds, but she missed a large part of her peripheral vision. It made her uneasy.

'Don't take it off until we've crossed the lake,' Knut warned, 'especially out on the plain fields a sudden sun reflection can blind you, and leave you vulnerable.'

'Thank you for taking care of our eyes,' a voice came from behind Caithe. Faolain had laid the strip over her eyes and was tying it behind the back of her head. Caithe could still see her eyes blazing through the narrow slit in the leather, but she sounded dull, and tired.

'How do we cross the lake?' Caithe asked, while walking towards Faolain. She gently rubbed her shoulder, and Faolain leaned in to her touch ever so slightly.

'We walk,' Ron answered simply. Caithe wondered about this briefly, but didn't get a chance to ask as Ron gestured for them to start walking while he and Knut carefully held the cart to descend the hill, onto the plains.

Another cry pierced the air.

The band looked at each other, then fell into a quickened step. Both Norns took a strap of the cart to keep up the high pace. They looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of the sound. Knut turned to Faolain.

'Do you think you could-' Faolain dismissed him with a wave of her hand, purple aura starting to form. 'Already on it. Wait for me here.'

She conjured up a couple of clones and let them spread in several directions, running forward. Then she closed her eyes and teleported, appearing twenty metres in front of them, then fourty, then she started to disappear in the mist. Caithe looked around frantically as she slowed down her pace, trying to keep an eye on Faolain. There were no shadows for her to travel through here. She had to remain with the group. The cart came to a halt.

It was silent. For the eternity of several sickening heartbeats, the world was frozen solid, no sound to be heard, no movement to be seen. Caithe sought her lover through the slit in the leather, turning her head to keep track of her surroundings. There was nothing, only misty white.

Then Ron turned the cart, and gestured to the left.

'There she is.' Suddenly Caithe could make out a hazy shape in the mist, the vague silhouette of a bell-shaped dress. As they approached, Caithe saw another form lying next to where Faolain was standing. It was a creature that looked like a bull, with two pairs of horns, that were far from being fully grown yet. It tried to crawl forward on its big front legs, but his flank and behind had been shredded, there were large claw marks and gaping, bleeding wounds on it. It tried to drag its limp lower half forth, groaning in pain every time it stopped to catch its breath. It had left a bloody trail leading into the mountains.

'That poor creature!' Caithe exclaimed, and wanted to kneel next to the animal to tend to its wounds, but it snorted loudly and swung its horns at her. She staggered back.

'Don't get too close!' Knut warned her, then turned to his companion. 'Look at its eyes, Ron. The corruption already has hold of him.' The other Norn nodded grimly. The young bull's eyes were glazed over, white and unseeing. 'Not even the Spirit of Minotaur can help him now.' They exchanged a quick look, then advanced on the animal. Ron took hold of the young minotaur's head, and Knut unsheathed his sword. Caithe cried out in shock.

'Wait!' The two men looked at her, weapon still at the ready. The minotaur bull struggled weakly.

'You cannot just - we have to help him!' Caithe cried, 'Look at how young he is!'

'I'm sorry, Caithe. If he becomes completely corrupted, he may lead a whole corrupted horde into Hoelbrak one day. It's better to end his suffering here.' Knut said, while sadly shaking his head.

'He can still live, he can still- he can fight the corruption!' Caithe ran in front of the minotaur's head and shielded it from Knut's sword with her body. Ron sighed.

'Caithe, this does not concern you.'

'This creature's life concerns me!' She retorted, her voice almost breaking from anger. Caithe could simply not believe what these men were about to do. 'You cannot do this! You, you..!' She sought for words. 'Faolain, say something!'

Faolain had not moved an inch during the conversation. She just stood there, gazing at the scene enfolding before her. Now she looked at Caithe's distressed face, her expression unreadable under the snowmask. She thought for a moment, then shook her head.

'Faolain!' Caithe exclaimed, perhaps even more confused by the fact that her lover did not back her up than that this was actually happening.

'I agree with Ron,' Faolain said, softly. Her voice was low, devoid of any emotion. 'It's better to end its suffering now.' She paused for a moment. 'Before anyone gets hurt.'

'Faolain,' Caithe said, her voice filled with confusion and disappointment, 'all things have a right to grow!'

Faolain scoffed. 'Yes, but one must never let a wrong ripen into evil, isn't that so?' Caithe just stared at her with wide eyes. Faolain walked towards her, and grabbed Caithe's arm. She pulled her away from the bull, and immediately Knut brought his sword down. The bull only made a slightly surprised sound before its head was severed from its body.

Caithe jerked her arm loose from Faolain's grip, staring at her. In her chest the feelings of anger and betrayal felt colder than the ice under her feet. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, invisible through the leather mask.

The two men kneeled by the corpse and murmured a prayer to the Spirits of the Wild.

.

The group travelled on in silence. Knut had his brow furrowed, lost in deep thoughts. Ron stared at the road ahead, calculating how much further it would be.

Next to the cart Faolain walked, the movements of her feet barely visible under her dress. She seemed to glide along the group. Caithe stomped way behind the cart, having taken distance on purpose. She didn't know whether she wanted to scream in rage or cry for sadness.

Never had anyone disregarded Ventari's Tablet so carelessly as Faolain had done. Never had she heard its words twisted so mercilessly to mean the opposite of what she thought they meant. Caithe rubbed her temples in confusion, trying to shake the complicated thoughts from her mind.

They mean what I think they mean. The Pale Tree has explained Ventari's teachings to me herself.

What if the Pale Tree is wrong? Caithe had not even noticed it was Faolain's thought invading her mind. Not until the string of thoughts went in another direction without her consent.

I'm not saying that it is, but it could be. Why would we blindly follow teachings of a creature long gone? Teachings that leave us vulnerable? That leave our loved ones vulnerable?

Caithe seethed with anger and distress.

'Faolain!' She suddenly schreeched, her voice more broken than she'd intended it to be, 'The Pale Tree is not wrong!' Faolain stopped in her tracks and looked over her shoulder. She was completely unfazed by the outburst, unlike the two Norn, who looked at each other with shocked expressions.

Faolain smiled. It was a tiny smile that did not reach her eyes.

'Of course, dearheart. If you are certain, then so shall I be.'

Caithe hissed through her teeth, forcibly keeping herself from beating this madness out of Faolain. She breathed deeply, closing her eyes, trying to control herself, trembling from all her pent-up emotion. Suddenly Faolain's hands were on her arms and warm lips on her own and she could not help but cling to her lover for the short moment the kiss lasted.

'Don't be afraid, Caithe,' Faolain whispered to her. Caithe let out a breath she had not even noticed she was holding. Had it been fear haunting her? She bit her lower lip, desperately trying to understand. Soon she realized she did not know anymore, all the feelings had dissolved in Faolain's warm presence.

.

'What's this, Whitebear? Lettin' the firewood walk by itself nowadays?' A loud, deep and raspy voice pierced the early dark. The group had crossed the plains and could see the lights of Hoelbrak in the distance. They were so close now.

A group of about twenty large, muscular Norn men appeared from the shadows, partially surrounding them. They were dirty and covered in scars, and even from a distance quite smelly. One particularly large Norn in the middle wore a helmet with antlers mounted on each side of it, one of which had broken off and left a pointy spike. They were loud and jesting and seemed everything but friendly.

Knut straightened his back and replied in a deeper, louder voice than he had previously used during the day.

'What brings you here, Stormbringer? These are not the Svanir hunting grounds.' The men laughed, calling names at Knut.

'There's nothing to hunt. It has been a particularly cold winter, and Lord Jormag was hungry.' Stormbringer's companions made agreeing sounds. Knut managed an affronted smile.

'But I see plenty of strong men at your side, Stormbringer. Couldn't Jormag feed on them?' Stormbringer pulled out a large axe and aimed it at Knut.

'Don't taunt me, Whitebear. As you might have seen, you are quite outnumbered.'

'I have,' Knut replied, painfully polite but still with an air of superiority. Stormbringer walked over to him, walked around the cart, and spat on the ground. 'Well, let's see what you got with you today, Wussbear.' The Sons of Svanir laughed, and slowly closed in on them as well. Knut pulled out his sword and pointed it at Aldus Stormbringer's chest, mere centimetres from actually touching him.

'This is not your property,' he growled. Suddenly Knut seemed taller than he had been before. Stormbringer held up his hands mockingly, taking a step back, feigning fear.

'Woah, woah. No need to get prickly, princess.' He strolled around the back of the cart, slowly closing in on the Sylvari. Caithe tried to step back, but the men had surrounded the cart, only leaving room for their leader to walk. Ron tried to get over to them , but one of the men jabbed him in the side with a rusty dagger, warning him not to move. Caithe stood her ground, Faolain at her side.

'So what are these?' Stormbringer asked, his crew laughing with him, as if he had made a joke. He made a move to step closer to the Sylvari, but Faolain stepped forward, ripping off her snowmask, her fingertips sparking with purple. She looked at him, challenged him with a single glance.

'Do not get any closer.' Her voice dripped venom. 'Faolain, back down!' Knut barked at her, never taking his eyes off of Stormbringer. The filthy Norn was more than amused.

'Oh, the twig's got attitude.' He snorted and made a move to step forward, but once he looked at Faolain's face again, he hesitated. He stepped back, immediately picking up his air of nonchalance and leadership again. 'Tell ya what, Wussbear.' Knut growled at him from the back of his throat, a low, threatening sound. '...What.'

'Ya can keep ya loot today. Just gimme the twigs and you're free to go. They'd do great in our fighting pit!' Ron inhaled sharply through his nose, and Knut growled even deeper. Caithe's gaze flew back and forth between the three men, her hands already on her daggers. Faolain was completely silent, but she still had her piercing stare on Stormbringer, unwavering. Her fingers twitched.

'Stormbringer,' Knut roared, 'I've kicked your ass once and I will do it again. You and your fighting pit are corrupting the land and those who dwell here. You are hereby an official threat to Hoelbrak.' He stepped forward, back bent, snarling at his opponent. Stormbringer faked enthusiasm.

'Finally, Wussbear!' Suddenly the two men charged at eachother, but they were no longer men. Knut had taken on the distinct features of a bear, with long claws and bone-shattering jaws. His opponent's eyes turned catlike and snarling, he transformed into a giant snow leopard. Ron turned and took out two of the Sons of Svanir in one blow. The axe in his hand melted into the strong paws of the wolf.

Caithe and Faolain stood shocked, panicking by the sudden start of the full-out brawl. Two Norn grabbed their arms and dragged them away from the fight. Caithe's attacker twisted her wrists immediately, making her drop her daggers in pain, and hit the side of her head. She was knocked face-first onto the frozen ground. Faolain's opponent was a skilled mesmer, who effortlessly turned the Sylvari's own magic against her. In an instant she was pinned on the ground, caught in a signet, unable to move.

Caithe tried to clear her head, but her vision was swimming from the blow, and she felt nauseous. She tried to get up, to lift her head. Not far from her Ron was taking on several of the Norn men, a giant wolf on his hind legs. Knut tore at throats and slashed at bodies so quickly that she could barely see him. The snow leopard attacked him with full force, pushing the bear back.

Caithe struggled to get up, but the ground was slippery underneath her. She looked down and saw the strangest thing. The surface was white, but transparent. She could look down into a dark, deep emptiness. She rolled over, barely dodging another Norn fist. There, under her elbow, a fish was trapped in the ice, staring upwards with an empty, dead gaze. The thought struck her like thunder.

The lake! We are on the lake!

Next to her, Faolain coughed and kicked at her oppressor, trying to break through the spell binding her. She managed to shoot magic at his arm and leave a large burned mark. The man yelped and grabbed his sword, slashing at her.

Faolain! Caithe used all her energy to channel to her while trying to avoid the blows aimed at her. I need my daggers!

Faolain looked at her between rolling over and dodging, quickly scanning the battlefield. Then an almost invisible clone ran into the brawl, luring and confusing the fighting Norn. They followed the hazy clone, swiping their weapons at it, and kicked against the fallen dagger. It slid far enough for Caithe to reach it. She sprinted out from under her attacker, lithe and agile even though she was hurt. Then she lifted the dagger high above her head and brought it down with as much force as she could muster. The dagger pierced the ice.

For a moment nothing happened. But then the ground started to groan, a loud, deep moaning sound, as if from a massive creature. And then the ice began to crack. First there was one crack, splitting the ice, but it grew like the branches of a tree, splitting and duplicating and picking up speed towards the brawling Norn.

Norn aren't stupid. They feel ice like Sylvari feel the forest. As soon as the ice started moving, the brawlers stared at their feet. And in a moment they began running for safer places, still swiping and slashing their weapons. Caithe lifted her dagger from the ice, ran closer, and brought it down again.

One of the back wheels of the heavily loaded cart suddenly sank through the surface, splitting the battleground into several large chunks of loose ice. The men screamed and Stormbringer jumped onto a platform, transforming back to his human self. He called for his men, retreating to solid ground. Ron ran towards the cart and pulled it out of the water, transforming while running, and setting it in the middle of the large ice chunk. Knut got up slowly, deep scratches over his whole body, but he made his way to Ron quickly, and scanned the field for Caithe and Faolain.

Caithe wanted to take a relieved breath when she suddenly heard a stupid sounding, bordering on maniacal laugh behind her. She turned just in time to see her former attacker, now a lone Norn on weak ice, shifting his attention to Faolain, who was writhing in her binding signet still. He ran over to the Sylvari, roaring fiercely as he lifted her by her neck. The sound of Faolain's pained gasp was drowned out by the groan of the strained iceplatform.

He raised his other rocklike fist, and brought it down on the ice in front of him.

'For Jormag!'

Caithe realized too late what was happening. The Norn only smirked as the ice underneath him shattered, and he disappeared into the dark waves, taking his prisoner with him.