What am I doing?

Really, what was she doing? Doing here? How had she gotten herself roped into hiding away in an underground base for a resistance against the authorities that be, eating potatoes every single day for every meal, watching the man she loved succumb to insanity?

Because I thought I could change him, Nihachu thought bitterly to herself, sitting on a rickety wooden crate as she helped Technoblade peel potatoes for dinner. Instead, he got worse. It's small comfort that he promised to not blow up Man – L'Manberg. I wanted to belong, and now I feel even more adrift than ever.

"Sail where you will, Niki, but don't go too far."

She had gone too far, much too far, so far she couldn't leave now. What would her dear friend think of her now? She didn't like thinking about it, and she hoped her friend would never know, never see what end she and all else here had come to.

Does she know about him?

Nihachu heard Tommy before he appeared in the potato cave entrance. " 'Ey, Techno! 'Ey, Niki!"

She watched him out of the corner of her eye, but didn't face him. "Hello, Tommy. How's Tubbo?"

"Yo," said Techno on the crate opposite her.

" 'E's all right, a lit'le crusty, but Techno's 'ealing potions seem to be working." Tommy shrugged. "Not too keen yet. Maybe – maybe they're working a little too well." He grinned.

Nihachu nodded. Poor little Tubbo. I hope he doesn't suffer too many side effects from all those potions.

"Eh, he'll be fine in a couple weeks," said Technoblade.

"Quacki'y told me to give you this." Tommy sauntered over to Nihachu and handed her an envelope which had been sealed at one point. She frowned up at him. "I 'ad to make sure it wasn't a bomb or nothin'," he protested. "We can't trust that feathered fellow yet, especially not since Dream's trying to scare us with all that rot about a traitor. An' it i'n't a bomb, so I did my job. What's for dinner, Techno?"

Nihachu shook her head, smiling. She didn't believe Dream, but part of her felt uneasy at the prospect that she had run from one shady place to another. She opened the envelope. Written in flowing script on a piece of lavender-scented stationery, she read:

Dear Miss Nihachu Ma'am,

I request your presence in the middle of the southern forest at midnight tomorrow night.

Your humble slave,

Karl Jacobs

And so – for whatever reason, except maybe desperation and that deep-seated feeling that nothing made sense anymore, so why not – Nihachu crept out of Pogtopia while the others slept that night. Bundled in the coat and boots Eret had given her during her stay in Tommy's holiday home, Nihachu headed for the place specified in the letter, and all the while, she wondered what Karl wanted, and why in such questionable circumstances. I suppose if it had been just about anyone else – even Wilbur – I might have suspected something, particularly seeing how he's from Manberg and this could very well be a trap – no, I don't believe there's a traitor – but Karl is as harmless as they come.

Even when requesting a solitary girl meet him in the middle of a nearly moonless night in a secluded forest. Karl certainly had a gift.

As she went, she wondered where Eret was. Tommy had told her he was camping out here somewhere, out here in the cold wilderness alone, unless he and Quackity had joined forces.

She caught some movement off to the side, but before she could react, Karl himself bounced out from behind a tree, smiling so hard he almost glowed. "Surprise!"

Nihachu just about fell over from shock. "Karl! What –" She remembered the need for secrecy, and lowered her voice. "What are you doing? What are we doing?"

Karl spread his arms wide as if there was something to show beyond the dark leafless trees. "Today is your birthday, right?"

Nihachu had almost forgotten. She wondered how Karl knew, and then remembered that Schlatt had required all Manberg citizens to provide their full legal given names and birthdates on a register. Fundy had persuaded her to sign. Of course, that had been before everything… "Yes…"

"This is a surprise party!"

"Oh!" Does Wilbur even know my birthday is today? "Thank you, Karl."

"Of course –" He stiffened, as if suddenly remembering something. His eyes widened, and he looked around in bewilderment until his gaze locked on Nihachu and his eyes widened even further. "Niki, you have to tell –" His words cut off a second time, and he didn't move, just blinked rapidly. It almost looked as though his eyes glazed over. Nihachu didn't know what to make of all this, or of the fact that he had called her by her nickname for the first time in her memory, but then he took her hand, looking concerned. "I-I'm sorry, Miss Nihachu…Ma'am! Is this okay? A midnight surprise party?"

She rather wanted to ask him if he was okay, but she shrugged. "I think so." What am I doing?

"Great! C'mon, let me show you!"

He led her through the forest, so excited, he kept tripping and running into branches.

"I just stumbled across this place," Karl bubbled as they went, "and I don't think anyone else knows it's here, which is kinda insane. You have no idea how many unauthorized lunch breaks it took me to set everything up." He paused. "Don't worry – President Schlatt knows nothing about this."

"Karl," said Nihachu, "do you really want to support Schlatt? Why are you going along with him?"

Karl stopped, didn't look at her. His head tilted forward, staring at the ground. "I don't want to support him," he whispered. "But I must."

They kept walking, slower now.

After a few more minutes, a massive, creaking old mansion built in some ancient architectural style Nihachu did not recognize towered into the horizon. Its grand size and opulent exterior gave it the appearance of a small castle. But it looked sad standing there above the graveyard of trees alone, so old it leaned on itself, ready to fall should the earth move. Thick black dead vines twined over the building, thin tendrils hanging from them in places like curtains. Then lights blazed on from a room in the ground floor, and the double doors flung wide, revealing Bad Boy Halo and Skeppy of all people in the entrance. "Surprise!" they squeaked, waving their arms.

"Th-Thank you, everyone!" Nihachu managed to get out, wondering how much Bad and Skeppy knew about her affiliation with Pogtopia and if they were still after the bounty. Karl ushered her inside, while the other two engaged in a party blower fight – which was actually very interesting since neither of their mouths were visible.

Nihachu barely had time to register the dusty foyer as Karl flew her down the hall into what must have been a ballroom at some point. All in all, the interior looked exactly how one would expect an abandoned castle in the middle of a forest on a November night to look like. Cobwebs along the rotted gilt wood paneled walls provided festive streamers, huge dusty paintings and tapestries riddled with holes made for charming backdrops, and the grand staircase with chopped-off landing provided intrigue and just enough of an edge to keep everyone from getting too comfortable. Five lamps swung around the entrance, not enough to illuminate the entire place, and so left the far end of the ballroom and the unfathomable vaulted ceiling in heavy darkness. A thick, musty odor laced with something disturbingly sharp lingered in the air. The stereo crammed into one of the big floor windows, and the sheet cake and water dispenser on the three-legged table by the door kept the atmosphere from feeling too cheap horror movie-ish. The cake made Nihachu think Karl was expecting more guests. She thought of Wilbur, and felt silly. Of course Karl wouldn't invite Wilbur.

I wonder who lived here before. If things had been different, could Wilbur and I have…

"I love parties," Bad gasped after he won by default when Skeppy passed out in the doorway to the ballroom. His voice echoed a little in the near-empty space. "And parties love the Badlands. Ant would have come, except –"

"Except I didn't invite him," said Karl, prim. He faced Nihachu, hands behind his back, eyes bright and expectant. "So, what do you want to do first, Miss Nihachu Ma'am? There's still some others coming, so we'll wait for them before we eat cake."

"I-I don't know." Nihachu glanced around – at Bad, helping a dazed Skeppy to his feet – at Karl, so excited about his surprise birthday party in this cold, abandoned castle. The chill lingered in Nihachu's veins, beyond the result of the earth's orbit around the sun, and she felt it in her heart: the sadness of the time and what would come, the strangeness of the place, even the joy in the others' eyes – these others she barely knew, who might even be enemies, when her closer friends lay beneath mountains and schemed for war and blood.

Let's sail on, then.

She made herself smile. "Let's do whatever you have planned, Karl."

"Well, I drew Miss Niki a picture," offered Bad. He pulled a roll of what looked like a large sheet of the brown paper Nihachu had used at her bakery from the inside of his cloak. "I've been dabbling in impressionism."

He laid the paper flat on the dusty marble floor, or at least attempted to. It kept curling around the edges, and he leaned over it to try to keep it flat.

Skeppy, a little more alert now, sighed. "Here." He knelt and held two corners so Bad could hold down the other two without obscuring the drawing.

Everyone – Karl and Nihachu – examined it.

Karl spoke first, his voice pitched higher as he groped for words. "That's – well, that's very nice, Bad, but that's not impressionism. That's-that's – oh, more like – surrealism? I guess?"

Impressionism or surrealism, Nihachu could not grasp the artwork beyond what looked like a valiant effort at replicating Dream's smiley-face mask.

Bad let out a whiny protest. "It's Quackity! See, I drew his crooked smile thing."

Karl squinted. "Okay."

Bad Boy Halo, who knew Nihachu in only the remotest sense of the word, had made something for her birthday, and that made a difference to her. "Thank you, Bad," she said.

In the awkward silence following, the sound of hollow hoofs thudded outside the mansion. Grateful for the interruption, Nihachu ran to the front and looked out one of the foyer windows.

It was Wilbur, riding a skeleton horse.

Nihachu stared, unsure if she was hallucinating or not. The silhouettes of the trees and the watery light from the mansion created such strange shapes in the half-wakeful state Nihachu found herself in, that she could easily imagine the horse had been summoned from the recesses of her mind. But the cracked yellow bones of that phantom of a horse and that wild grin splitting Wilbur's face could not have been birthed from the whispering wind and the shrouded moon of this night. There came a point when horror surpassed all fantasy and entered the realm of reality. Nihachu opened the double doors. "Wilbur!" The others crowded behind her, and she remembered the bounty again. She whirled on Bad and Skeppy. "Please don't take him – for the bounty –!"

"Pshaw," said Bad. "It's a party. We don't care about that right now."

Nihachu didn't know if she believed him, but then Wilbur spoke and she faced him again.

"Happy birthday, Niki," he said from his perch. He glanced at Karl, and his tone became dry. "Thank you for inviting me."

Karl, squashed against the doorframe by Skeppy, frowned. "But I didn't –"

"Well, now that I'm here, the party can start." Wilbur dismounted, patted the horse's skull. Nihachu saw that he had strapped his guitar to his back. "I found a skeleton horse," he said unnecessarily.

"Cool," said Karl.

They reconvened in the ballroom, Wilbur not seeming bothered in the least by the presence of two-thirds of the Badlands. Nihachu realized that in spite of everything, she was glad Wilbur was here, and the air felt a little warmer, within and without. "Where did you get that horse, Will?" she asked him, hooking her arm around his. "I've never seen one of those before."

"Well, they're not as common as regular skeletons, but some of those mobs do keep them. I found a band that had neglected to put a watch on their beasts, so I stole it." He grinned, as if expecting her to congratulate him.

Is stealing from a skeleton as bad as stealing from a person? Mobs weren't as animalistic as people seemed to think they were. She thought of Sam, and said nothing.

When she didn't respond, Wilbur huffed and turned to Karl, pulling his arm out of Nihachu's grasp. "So, are these all your invitees, Karl?"

"No, because, for one thing, I didn't invite you, and second, we're still waiting on Vice President –"

As if summoned by those fateful words, Quackity himself appeared in the doorway, dressed for the occasion in his old tracksuit and beanie which looked as though he had spent the last week outside – which is exactly what he had done. An ominous flash of lightning would not have been out of place. His hands on his hips, his face twisted into what he probably supposed the other young people these days call "swag," he spoke in a loud, honking intonation that was definitely not his regular speaking voice:

"Did someone call for a hot vice president to come to the rescue?"

Even Wilbur blushed.

"Oh, hey, Vice President Quackity!" Karl cried, even though Nihachu was fairly certain Quackity didn't hold that status anymore. "I'm so glad you could make it!"

Wilbur sputtered. "You didn't invite me to Niki's party, but you invited – invited this – you –"

Karl had never excelled at hiding his preferences. "I didn't think you'd want to hang with us, so…"

Wilbur snorted. "I mean, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones at least for one night, especially on Nihachu's birthday."

"Well, I'm glad to hear that," said Quackity, strutting into the foyer. His face looked strange – patchy, spots of dark ringed with yellow. Nihachu hadn't noticed at the Red Festival, the last time she'd seen him – but then again, he had been wearing sunglasses. "Though – even though we're technically all friends now and stuff, you still left me to live outside. It's like you're insisting on being the villain. What're you going to do next – execute someone?"

Nihachu winced. Wilbur guffawed, humorless. "Says the man who literally branded his own citizen."

"It's November, man! Do you realize how cold it is out there?"

"Oh, this is hardly cold weather, you poor southern duckito –"

"It's patito, you – HEY!"

"H-Hey, everyone!" Karl wavered in. "Why don't – why don't we dance now, yeah?"

Wilbur's eyes flashed. "I'd like to mop the floor with Quackity's stupid –"

"YEAH!" Bad and Skeppy shrieked, drowning out whatever Wilbur said next.

Karl switched on the little stereo, cranking through stations and adjusting the volume until he found something the radio tower a couple kilometers away could pick up. Even so, the music barely rose above the blare of static. Karl dimmed the lamps, and Bad and Skeppy did a weird little dance together. Nihachu joined them and tried out a spin, but it didn't feel right. The shadows in the black part of the ballroom watched her, and she thought she could almost see two pairs of eyes staring from the darkness.

She retreated to the sidelines by the door, almost running into Quackity. "What's up?" he asked, giving her a smile and an awkward wink. Wilbur came over, glaring at Quackity.

Spinning with Wilbur, dancing into forever. I still haven't danced with him yet.

"I want to dance," said Nihachu, "But –"

"Then dance," said Quackity. He began bouncing on his toes and doing something with his hands and hips.

"Please stop," Nihachu whispered.

Bad gagged, and Skeppy took him outside before he threw up.

Quackity stopped, sullen, and almost at once, Skeppy poked his head inside. "Did he stop?"

"Yes," said Nihachu.

Quackity grumbled, but Bad and Skeppy returned and resumed dancing.

Nihachu just watched. I'm glad they're having a good time. I just wish – oh, stop it with the self-pity. I'm being pathetic. I'm acting like – like Fundy. She glanced up at Wilbur by her shoulder, hoping he would ask her to dance with him. He smiled, but he didn't look like himself, and she turned away. I could ask him – I know he wouldn't care – but I don't want to when he's like this.

After another ten minutes, Skeppy passed out again, this time from attempting something he called an Ayyalah dance, which involved him trying to prance around the room whilst throwing a spear into the air (no one knew where he had acquired it, but everyone hoped it wasn't Sam's, as it was completely unusable after smashing into Skeppy's impenetrable diamond-encrusted skin). While Bad revived him, Karl turned the lamps back to full brightness, raised his voice above the clamor from the radio and Wilbur and Quackity's arguing, and shouted, "HEY! It's cake time!"

That shut them up, and Skeppy miraculously awoke right at that moment.

They sang "Happy birthday" to Nihachu, all of them out of tune, even Wilbur, who couldn't hold his own against so many – ahem – greenhorn voices. Bad sang about half a measure behind everyone else. The echo in the ballroom didn't improve matters.

"¡Mordida!" Quackity whooped after they finished. "Come on, Niki, smush your face in that cake or I'll do it for you!"

Nihachu blinked at him. "Wait, what?"

Karl served the cake before Quackity did something he regretted.

"Is it gluten-free?" asked Bad, poking at it with a long gray finger.

Karl's mouth dropped open. "Hey, you're gluten intolerant, too?"

Bad gasped. "Yeah! Weak bowels for the win!" They did a high-five, but Karl missed and his hand went down into the cake instead.

"Uh, yes," said Karl as he scraped frosting off his fingers. "It's gluten-free."

Karl served the cake, though most of them declined it. Not that it had looked terribly appetizing even before Karl had unintentionally defaced it. As the guest of honor, Nihachu could not refuse when he offered her a plate. On the bright side, Karl had thoughtfully given her a piece without his handprint embedded in it. She loaded her fork with cake and sampled it. Lightly burnt bavarian cream filled her mouth. Karl remained in front of her, watching, and she managed to chew and swallow without spitting it out all over her blouse or him.

"There were supposed to be more people," Karl whispered as she looked around for something to wash the taste away. He got her a cup of water.

"It's all right," she choked.

"Eret was supposed to come."

She took a long sip from the cup, shook her head. "No – no, Karl, it's okay. Don't worry about it."

Wilbur sidled up to her again, hands in his trench coat pockets. "Well, it's a good thing neither he nor Fundy showed up. Nothing spoils a party like traitors."

Karl flushed and returned to the cake.

Nihachu glared at Wilbur. "Please don't say that. You're not exactly elevating the mood, you know."

Wilbur ran a hand through her hair, twirling the ends around his finger. "Oh, Niki, surely you don't care for that lying –"

She shook him off, a strand of hair catching on his hand and ripping out. "Why are you doing this?"

"Niki. Niki." He reached out as if to touch her again, but she pulled away.

"Wilbur. Please stop. You are scaring me. I miss –" She took a deep breath. "– I miss the old Wilbur. The Wilbur who sang and laughed and believed in peace and freedom."

Sorrow clouded the mockery in his eyes, and he looked askance at the floor. "He's gone. I don't know where."

Don't say that.

Now she took his hand. "He's in there, somewhere. I know." She squeezed his fingers.

He kissed her knuckles, and brightened all at once. "I have a song. A song for you."

She smiled. There he is. He's back. "Can I dance to it?"

"Listen first. Then I will play you something you can dance to."

"All right."

They took their leave of the other attendees. Outside, the night still lay in dark, quiet shapes. The light from the castle cast enough of a glow around them to keep mobs at bay. The skeleton horse stood in the shadows, nickering uneasily. It occurred to Nihachu that it might not like light either. Wilbur sat on a fallen log covered in the same dead vines entwining the mansion and Nihachu settled herself beside him. He glanced over at her, smiled, and scooted closer to her so their sides touched. Nihachu blushed, looked at her hands bunching folds around her skirt. Wilbur turned his guitar and began:

"In the gold between the dawn

Danced my darling in the sun,

Jewels like roses in her hair,

In my country, bright and fair.

And I would say,

'Come dance for me,

Come be my love, come be my queen,'

As we would sing:

Lu, lay, lu, lay,

Lu, la, lay,

Lu, la, lee, lee, lee, lay.

I vowed that I'd never leave,

She vowed that she'd always be

Dancing there on silver feet

And down every golden street.

And she would say,

'Don't worry, love,

You'll find your way, keep walking, love,'

And we would sing:

Lu, lay, lu, lay,

Lu, la, lay,

Lu, la, lee, lee, lee, lay.

In the death of day and light,

Bathe your feet in rising night.

Hold your head up, wear your crown,

As the stars bleed on the ground.

And they all say,

'Where have you gone?

Where will you be, upon the dawn?'

While we sing:

Lu, lay, lu, lay,

Lu, la, lay,

Lu, la, lee, lee, lee, lay."

Nihachu did not raise her head as the last notes faded into the frozen stars. "Do you still feel that way, Wilbur?" she whispered.

"Feel what way?"

She sighed. "Like in the song. About being –" her face warmed again "– your – a – queen. About being – your love."

Wilbur didn't look at her. "Of course."

Quackity appeared then, the voices of the other party-goers rising with the light from the doors as he opened it, diminishing into muted shouts as he shut it. "I can sing, Wilbur, if you'll play."

Wilbur frowned, but said, "Very well. What songs do you know, Big Q?"

The ex-vice president sat on Wilbur's other side. "Do you know 'Como El Que Pierde una Estrella'?"

"Of course not."

"Oh. Um."

"Do you know 'Scarborough Fair'?"

"What the who? Oh, wait, the song – the song by those two guys –"

"Yes, that one. You know it?"

"Parts of it..."

"Splendid! I will play and you will sing. And Niki –" Wilbur faced her, his gaze catching on her "– you will dance." He began to play almost at once, and Nihachu got up while Quackity floundered until he found his place.

"...rosemary and thyme...

Remember me to a girl who lives there,

For she was once a true love of mine."

Nihachu danced to the guitar, to Quackity's trilling voice that was almost beautiful, marking the stars as they spun above her, as though they danced to their own sad, sweet songs. Her hands felt as empty as her heart. He's back, but he's not. He's not really back. She remembered that long-ago night when she had danced with Fundy to the same guitar, less scratched and bruised, and everything had felt right...for one moment...

The song ended, and Nihachu sat down again, breathless. Though the night still lay in cold swaths around them, she removed her coat.

"It's so nice having a party here again…"

Nihachu looked up. The voice had sounded female, which couldn't be right. She glanced at Quackity, but his dead-eyed stupor ruled him out. Wilbur's voice was too deep. She shook her head. My dear friend…

"Why don't we sing a duet now?" asked Wilbur.

Quackity reddened, laughed. "I – ah – y-yeah…"

"Do you know…let's see…"

"How about that one about that sister and her parents, but they were, like, all sad and angry about the son –"

"Oh, I know, let's sing 'Robin's Town.' "

Quackity scratched his head. "That's the kiddie's – with the weird twisty game –"

"Yes, yes! Let's do that one."

Nihachu frowned. "Robin's Town" was a children's ditty no one could miss after visiting the village down south. All the youngsters there seemed to know it, often accompanying it with a complicated game which looked like a cross between Human Knots, Farmer in the Woods, and Ring a Ring the Rosie. Nihachu found the song a little disturbing, and she wondered why it was reserved for children.

"Are we going to do the game, too?" asked Quackity.

Wilbur didn't even smile. "We're not children, Big Q."

"Sorry."

Wilbur turned to Nihachu again. "Dance, Niki."

Either he hadn't noticed her breathlessness, or else didn't care. I shouldn't think that! She pursed her lips, stood once more. But I feel like I'm just entertaining him now.

Quackity began, in a high cracked voice before he found the right key, and Wilbur joined him, singing every other line, sometimes together, sometimes in counterpoint, almost as if they had rehearsed beforehand:

"Robin's one. Robin's two.

Robin counts the ropes for you.

Robin's own, his only home.

Robin has no family though.

Robin, Robin, one, two, three. Who will I be mourning, come morning?

Tying it forward, tying it backward, tying our lives together.

Robin, Robin, three, two, one. Poor Robin's work is done.

Loop twice around, twist all around, so we all dance around Robin's town."

Nihachu thought she saw something spinning off to the side, just beyond the circle of light. Every couple of seconds, it whirled in that one space, like a dress and moving legs and arms. For one moment, it almost looked like a very tall man and a girl dancing, dancing on the edge of the forest. Nihachu lost the rhythm as her heart almost stopped, but when she looked again, she saw nothing. Wilbur and Quackity did not stop singing, though Wilbur glanced at her with a question in his face. She ignored him and continued dancing.

"Robin's one.

Robin's two.

Robin counts the ropes for you.

Robin's climb.

Robin tried.

Robin ties it one last time.

Robin, Robin, one, two, three. Who will I be mourning, come morning?

Tying it forward, tying it backward, tying our lives together.

Robin, Robin, three, two, one. Poor Robin's work is done.

Loop twice around, twist all around, so we all dance around Robin's town.

Who will hear me cry tonight?

None but the birds of the night.

When will my own home be found?

Shall I die in Robin's town?"

A moment of eerie silence as the two voices ceased, Wilbur holding the strings of the guitar down to keep them from vibrating. Nihachu froze, glancing at them in case something had happened or they had seen something – maybe the apparitions she had seen – but they were both staring at the ground in front of her feet. She couldn't remember if the song ended there or not, and she waited. At last they sang again, quieter.

"What went wrong?

Poor Robin's gone.

Robin found a place to belong."

They ended with singing the last phrase together, harmonizing – sort of. Nihachu leaned forward, hands on her knees, when Wilbur passed the guitar off to Quackity and got up. "Could I dance with you now, Niki?"

She sank onto the log. "Wilbur, I'm tired. I can't dance anymore right now." Quackity let fly a dribble of notes from the instrument into the starlit air.

"Let's all go diiiiiiiieeeeee," the ex-vice president of Manberg warbled.

Wilbur looked hurt by Nihachu's words, but he nodded. He sat and took the guitar back from Quackity. The duck-boy deflated.

Karl came out then. "Well, Bad and Skeppy are going back to the Quartz Mansion now."

The duo joined them, bearing a lantern for warding off mobs. "Happy birthday," said Skeppy. "Sorry I didn't bring you a present."

Nihachu smiled. "It's all right."

"I brought her a present," said Bad in a lofty voice. "I left it on the table. You'll have to let me know when you get it framed and hung." What? Oh, right, the picture of Quackity. "And again, don't worry about us spilling the beans about Wilbur. Happy birthday!" Bad and Skeppy skipped off into the dark.

Nihachu waved. "Thank you for coming!" She thought of Eret, who was also supposed to come, and again wondered where he was.

Wilbur stood and stretched, as if having come to a decision. "Are you going back to Pogtopia now, Niki?"

She frowned. "Are you?"

Wilbur glanced at Quackity. "Big Q…"

Quackity looked up, his face blank and round as a brown egg – rather like Bad's portrait of him, actually. "Yeah?"

Wilbur took in a deep breath through his nostrils, let it out in a frozen cloud. "You can…you can join us in Pogtopia."

Quackity jumped up. "Like, you're letting me move in with you all? Like a family?" Then he frowned, and lowered his head, twisting away from Wilbur. "I mean, if that's –"

Wilbur grimaced. "You can stay in Pogtopia with us," he repeated through his teeth.

Nihachu didn't know how she felt about that. She started feeling cold again, and pulled her coat on.

"Well, I guess I'll blow up L'Manberg now," added Wilbur, in such a careless tone, Nihachu almost missed his words.

"NO!" she cried. "You promised!"

"No!" squawked Quackity.

Wilbur laughed. "I can hear it in your voice, Quackity – you want me to blow it up."

"No – I –"

Wilbur turned on Nihachu, flashing that crazy smile.

"May I sing you another song, Niki?"

What is he doing? "Okay…"

He strummed the guitar and began to sing, very loudly, loud enough for every bounty hunter and mercenary in the Dream SMP to hear him: "I HEARD THERE WAS A SPECIAL PLACE –!"

"No, Wilbur, stop!"

"What is wrong, Niki?" He laughed, as if there was something to laugh at.

She stiffened. "You're not yourself. It doesn't make sense for you to blow up the very thing you love." She blinked away tears. "It's like…if I loved someone else, would you kill me, Wilbur?" Would you kill me if I loved Fundy?

His face went ashy, and the smile vanished. "It's not the same thing. I was just joking. I did promise."

No one said anything for a long moment.

"Can't it all just stay?" murmured Karl off to one side. Nihachu had forgotten he was still there. "Why does it have to be blown up?"

"It's not going to be blown up," Quackity assured him. "We will win. Manberg will stay."

"L'Manberg will stay," Nihachu whispered.

Nihachu, Wilbur, and Quackity returned to Pogtopia, weary and ready for bed.

"Oh, I forgot my skeleton horse," Wilbur grumbled as they approached the cliffs.

"I'm sorry," Nihachu whispered, too tired to care.

They walked down the entrance tunnel, the lanterns low in their casings. They came out into the complex, and Quackity gasped, surely about to express his shock or appreciation or both, except they then noticed Fundy lounging below in the main cavern with L'Dog. He looked up as they stared at him over the pathway, smiling at their shocked gapes.

"Hello," he said, quite congenial.

Wilbur sputtered. "F-Fundy! My liar citizen! What are you doing here? How did you – Where's – where's Tommy? Where's Technoblade?!"

Fundy shrugged. L'Dog lay his head in Fundy's lap, and even closed his eyes.

Wilbur stormed down the pathway, muttering about useless guard dogs. Nihachu hurried after him, fearing he might step wrong and pitch into the hot springs. Again.

"TOMMY!" Wilbur yelled. The caverns rumbled.

Tommy burst from his cave above them in a flurry of suspicious white feathers, and stood at attention at the edge of the walkway. Quackity blanched. Tommy blinked down at them for a good ten seconds before understanding and horror filled his face. "Oh – OH! Aauugghh! I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Will, I zoned out! I was thinking about girls." He grinned when he saw Nihachu, and waved.

Wilbur had come down to the main cavern by then, and heaved Fundy up by his collar. L'Dog jumped away with a whine and lingered just behind Wilbur. "Where's Technoblade?" Wilbur snapped at Tommy as his gaze ripped through the fox-boy. Fundy did nothing but smile his cruel smile. Nihachu stood off to the side, and Quackity joined her.

" 'E's out hunting! 'E told me to stay 'ere an-and…"

"Right." Wilbur sniffed. "Well, Fundy? How did you know where we were?"

"It's not that hard, Wilbur. There's a tunnel in the bunker that leads all the way here. You know, I've known when you've come into Manberg and spied, on multiple times, I just didn't turn you in because –"

Wilbur slapped him. Fundy said nothing, but Nihachu saw his jaw quiver under his smile. When he raised his head, his gaze flicked over to her. His fluffy winter hair stood out at odd angles, making him look somewhat like a mad scientist. "Happy birthday, Niki."

She nodded, because she couldn't think of what else to do except say, "Thank you," and she didn't want to speak to him right now. Not yet. I don't know what he's doing or why. I'm worried about him, but I'm scared.

Fundy's eyes turned to the others, taking in the hostile stares, and he spoke in a louder voice. "Gentlemen! May I have a word for one minute?"

Wilbur laughed, right in his face. "He's a fox with nothing to lose! Look at him!"

Fundy kept grinning, tense and stiff. "Gentlemen. I would say, so far, this has been a really fine evening, right? All of you gallivanting about at Niki's twenty-first birthday party, which I was not invited to, even though I'm her closest friend –" Nihachu frowned "– and that brings me to why I am here! What a fine evening for some good old double-crossing, am I right?" Wilbur cocked an eyebrow, but still didn't release him. Fundy went on, seemingly all pleasantries save for his tight-lipped smile and ferocious ivy-colored eyes. "Now, let me just say, I haven't been completely vocal about all of my actions. I haven't really spoken to anyone about this, actually. Wilbur, I might have something for you that might lighten up the mood a little bit, because I see you guys are quite –"

"No, we're okay," Tommy yelled, making obnoxious echoes around them, reminding Nihachu of her exhaustion. "We're okay, fur-boy."

"We're fine, Fundy," Quackity joined.

"Yeah, liar!" Tommy whooped, and had he been down in the main cavern with Quackity, they might have done a high-five or something.

"No, wait," Nihachu cried, in spite of herself. "I think he's saying he's going to help us."

Wilbur's gaze snapped around at her, his eyes wide, his jaw tight. Nihachu shrank away in the shadows. Wilbur let Fundy go with a violent shove, and stalked over to Nihachu, L'Dog following, tail between his legs. Fundy scrambled to his feet and straightened his hat.

"I have been documenting every single step!" Fundy cried. "Every single action that Schlatt has taken ever since he set his foul feet onto that stage, all right?"

Wilbur stopped in front of Nihachu, but said, "Are you trying to blackmail us, Fundy?"

Fundy dusted himself off. "Now if you wouldn't mind to lend me another word for a minute, you see, I got information that just might help Pogtopia." He pulled a book from his trench coat pocket and flipped through it. "Schlatt –"

"Oh no, you don't," cried Tommy. "We don't need no traitors 'elping us. No traitors 'ere."

There is no traitor, Tommy. You said so yourself.

Tommy disappeared for a moment, then returned with a bucket. "Watch this, Big Q." Everyone looked up to see.

Tommy flung the contents of the bucket out, but he miscalculated the distance between him and Fundy, and succeeded only in dribbling the rocks below his cave in some thick black substance. The others stared at it a long time before Quackity ventured, "...Is that tar?"

Tommy sulked. "Yeah. An' I got me a bunch of chicken feathers. I was saving them for later, in case of an emergency."

No one said anything. Nihachu felt a little sorry for the child, but her gaze found Fundy's, and she thought, Why, Fundy? What are you doing?

Wilbur cleared his throat. He draped an arm over Nihachu's shoulders, pulling her toward him. He's showing his claim on me. She resisted, and he stopped. L'Dog whined. Fundy glowered. "Speak, fox-boy," said Wilbur. "What do you have to say?"

Fundy drew in a long-suffering breath. "Schlatt isn't as powerful as he portrays himself to be. Schlatt is actually the polar opposite."

"Wot does that mean?" Tommy called. Nihachu wished he would just come down and join them. It was too late for yelling. "Aren't you on Team Schlatt?"

Fundy held the book up. "I have proof. Now, you can see in my hand I got a nice little diary I've been keeping. Actually, Wilbur! Would you mind reading this for me?" He flipped through it. "Start here. Don't – don't look at anything else."

Wilbur smirked. "All right."

He made no move to fetch the book, so Fundy came over and handed it to him. He stepped away, arms behind him, his smile wider. "I've done some work."

Wilbur started flipping toward the front of the book, and Fundy almost snatched it back.

"Wilbur, just read it from where I showed you!"

"Fine, fine." Wilbur began reading. " 'A Spy's Diary' by Frederik.' Do you have a last name, Frederik?"

"Just read it, Will," Fundy growled.

Spy?

Wilbur read. " 'The following is confidential information. If you are caught in possession of this diary, an immediate punishment may result.' " Wilbur scoffed. "…Schlatt is always drinking, and I am quite positive he is an alcoholic, even selling things from the White House to that mercenary Punz, who I don't think is on Manberg's side, all so Schlatt can buy more alcohol…After multiple instances, I have come to the conclusion that Schlatt is incapable of swimming. He seems to get weaker by the day…Schlatt is surprisingly unaware of the concerns and state of Manberg. He is paranoid and tries keeping the citizens in check through harsh rules and violence. Examples include child labor, unsafe procedures in bringing down the walls, imposing a ridiculous fine of 350 emeralds on Niki and then having her dragged out and publicly humiliated in the middle of the night when she refused to pay' –" Wilbur cut off and glanced at Nihachu, alarm in his hazel eyes. She looked away. After a moment, he continued. "...and he branded me when I dared to stand up for her…' " Now he looked at Fundy, grinning. "Can I see it, Fundy?"

"No," Fundy snarled.

Wilbur laughed, and read on: " 'He forced us to set up the Manberg Festival, which turned out to not be a party in honor of the nation but an execution of much-beloved Secretary of State Tubbo…Dream kept visiting Schlatt, and while I do not know what they discussed, it is clear that Schlatt's loyalties have always lain with the very man who tried keeping our nation from us…Schlatt is unaware of how in reality he stands alone. Schlatt has no real power, no matter what he does. Everyone is against him. His entire presidency is a facade.' "

"I knew it!" Quackity hissed, and Nihachu glanced at him. Those marks on his face…bruises? Did Schlatt's cruelty extend even farther than Fundy had documented?

"Wot's a facade?" Tommy asked. "What is it, a French smoothie or something?"

Wilbur closed the book. "It's like a front." He returned it to Fundy.

Tommy glared down at the fox-boy. "Is 'e French? 'E better not be French."

Quackity turned on Fundy as well. "Are you French, Fundy?"

Fundy looked startled. "I'm not –"

Tommy jumped up and down. A little avalanche of loose rocks and dust tumbled below him, coating the tar. "Oh no! We can't team up with the French!"

"You come in here with the audacity of being French?!" Quackity yelled.

Fundy huffed. "That's the outcome of this? That's the outcome you draw from a diary that I've written every single step of the way –"

Wilbur interrupted. "Wait, so – Fundy. You're saying that you've been a spy, against Schlatt –"

"– this entire time," Fundy finished, triumphant. And he smiled at Nihachu.

Oh no, he didn't…

Tommy suddenly appeared next to Fundy, a little dusty. L'Dog ran up to him, wagging his tail. "Can I read that diary?" Tommy asked. Fundy ignored him. Tommy frowned. "Fundy, are you really with us? Are you really not a traitor?"

Nihachu wanted to say something, defend Fundy, but the recent revelation had silenced her.

Fundy groaned. "Of course I'm not a traitor! Everything I've been doing is for L'Manberg! I promise I'm not lying!" But his gaze remained on Nihachu, and he rubbed the back of his neck. She looked at the ground. She rather wanted to grab that dummkopf by one of his fuzzy ears, haul him off somewhere private, and interrogate him about the last couple of months. I'm glad he's actually on our side, that he was a spy the whole time…but couldn't he have trusted me with the truth? When he burned my flag, aimed his crossbow at me, at Wilbur? I can't even trust my friends.

Wilbur took a deep breath. "Fundy, I despise you –" He broke off, and no one said anything, waiting. Fundy stared at Wilbur, expression blank. Wilbur cleared his throat. "You betrayed me, lied to me. I have nothing to say to you. So leave."

"But-but I'm a spy! I'm for Pogtopia! I want to see the end of Schlatt!" Fundy glanced back at Nihachu. "I can help!"

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Oh, everyone wants to help, don't they? First this filthy bird, then that monster, Eret, and now a rat-eared –"

"What did you call me?" Fundy seethed, clenching his fists.

"Please let him help," said Nihachu. "He's proved he was on our side the whole time." She swallowed. "He's suffered under Schlatt, same as the rest of us."

"Yeah, let him join," said Quackity, in spite of his earlier accusation – which really only amounted to being French, which wasn't even true.

Wilbur sighed. "Since everyone's against me, fine." Tommy looked surprised, but Wilbur kept speaking. "You can help, Fundy. But I don't want to see you here again. We're already on the lookout for traitors." He laughed. "Go. Go back to Schlatt and keep dancing for him. If I don't see you fighting for Pogtopia on the 16th, then the Dream SMP might have its first casualty." He narrowed his eyes. "We have the Blade, Fur-Head."

Fundy tightened, but nodded.

Wilbur also nodded. "Leave."

Fundy left without another word.

Nihachu staggered up to her cave, her weary mind swirling. Was Coconut 2020 also a ruse? How long has he been lying to me? The possibilities overwhelmed Nihachu, and she pushed them aside, to deal with later, tomorrow or in a week, or never.

What am I doing?

She didn't tell anyone of what had happened in Manberg, in the holiday house, not for a long time.

"This train goes right to Tommy's holiday house," said Eret as they climbed the steps in the plateau to the embassy where the train awaited them. Nihachu could still smell the ash in the air from Fundy burning their flag – her flag. "You'll be safe there."

She followed the tracks with her eyes, disappearing into darkness. "At Tommy's house?"

"He won't mind, I'm sure. I suppose it's now technically property of Manberg, but no one will think to look for you there."

They boarded the train, and Eret kept the engine stoked while Nihachu sat by the window in the coach, watching the stars and the land roll by, watching the glittering sea below as they turned along the cliffs to dock just under the house. Eret helped her down from the train. "I will be back to make sure you have everything you need. Farwell, Miss Nihachu."

"Thank you, Eret." She remembered, and amended, "King Eret."

His mouth twitched, but he said nothing else, and stepped onto the train. The little engine wheezed as it clicked out from the dock and headed back to the embassy.

A tall swing set stood beside the house, almost right up to the edge of the cliffs. Nihachu did not go inside – not yet – but sat on the swing and let it take her out over the cliff, over the crashing water, up toward the star-singed sky, but never bringing her to it.

The days crawled for Nihachu. Except for that one time when Tommy's beloved cow got stolen and Sapnap tied her to the bedpost, nothing happened. So she cleaned Tommy's house (the bathroom and kitchen each took an entire day), harvested what few wilty vegetables remained in the garden plot, took walks, sang to herself, and wrote to her dear friend:

"I hope this letter finds you well. By the time you receive it, I will be long gone, so don't come looking for me. Don't worry; we shall see each other soon. But I am writing you in hopes that you can bring my word out to others…"

And then there was Eret. He visited her every day, like he promised, and usually with food – the highlight of that lonely stay in the house on the cliff.

"Please don't call me king," he told her as they sat on the porch partaking of the thick loaf of brown bread he had brought. "I don't want to sound like anyone's superior. I want people to trust me, not to fear me."

"Why does no one trust you?" she asked him.

"I betrayed them." He let out a tiny melancholic laugh. "It makes sense. I was selfish. I just wanted to keep my castle. I wish every day I hadn't…"

Her friends, her old friends she trusted so much hated Eret…but only those no one trusted – Quackity, Eret – only they had helped her.

"Do you believe in God, Eret?"

A sad smile. "Yes. But He feels so far."

"Can I tell you a story?"

She remembered that last evening, the day before Punz and Sapnap came and ordered her back to Manberg for Schlatt's joke of a festival – Sapnap must have told Schlatt where she was. That last evening, Eret removed the blindfold before he left, and for the first time, Nihachu saw the king's eyes, and the sincerity in them. Eret, of all people. No longer masking his intentions. Eret. In his rawest, most vulnerable state. Eret. Thinking he could find restitution for his wrongdoings.

"Thank you for everything, Eret," she whispered, as if she already knew somehow that she would be leaving soon. He must have known it, too.

"Do not thank me, Miss Nihachu. It is merely human decency."

And yet, no one else, not even Wilbur or Fundy, had thought of it.

"You can call me Niki."

He smiled, but shook his head. "Farewell, Miss Nihachu."

Nihachu awoke with the dawn, the dawn of the 15th of November. She sat in her pile of bedclothes, staring at her hands, at the blankets, hearing the far-off dripping of water, the echoing voices of the boys as they got ready. Everything felt like a half-remembered dream, every movement mechanical, unfeeling, and distant. She dressed, and crept out of the caverns into the chill, dewy forest. Still no snow, though. She wondered if that meant this winter would be especially bad. As if the weather knew the states of the souls blowing around in it.

She thought of Eret, glad for his sake the snows had not come yet, but wondered how well he had slept in the cold, mobs waiting for his fire to die out, the skies bestowing dew upon him in the morning.

Where is Eret camping exactly?

Somewhere close, but Eret didn't know for certain where Pogtopia lay, at least, according to Tommy's report.

I'll try to find him today and bring him something. Nobody should be staying out in this weather.

The thought of that discomfited Nihachu, and she forced herself to think of something else. Everything still slept under the thin cover of false peace woven around them, with only the faint cry of a couple cardinals deep in the forest, and the hush of the wind through the creaking branches. She thought of the abandoned mansion somewhere out there amid the trees, no longer filled with light and laughter, but only cold, dark, and emptiness.

Nihachu climbed the hill up to the Pogtopia cliffs, where she had sat with Tommy after the festival, watching the sunset. Now she sat alone to watch the sunrise.

Oh, my dear friend. I wish I had never left you. Maybe I would be sailing around the world with you right now, a different but probably less wretched set of concerns to trouble me, nothing but wind and sky and sea and everything else before us.

She heard someone coming up the hill to the side, and she turned. Fundy picked his way over the rocks to her, and she tensed. "Hello, Fundy." She paused. "Why are you here?" I already know why.

"Hello, Niki." Fundy scrambled over the edge and sat cross-legged beside her. "There was something I wanted to discuss with Wilbur, but I saw you up here and I thought I'd visit with you for a little bit."

She nodded, didn't speak.

"Are you scared?"

This startled her. "What?"

"Tomorrow. The war. Are you scared?"

She sighed, let her gaze drift through the forest beneath them. "A little." She curled forward over her legs and glanced at him. "Are you?" she whispered.

He didn't look at her, but stared at the horizon, grinning into the sunset. "Of course not."

You can't lie to me anymore, Fundy.

"I never gave you your birthday present," he said after a pause.

Every muscle coiled: "Oh?"

Fundy reached into his trench coat pocket and drew out a small package wrapped in the brown bakery paper. Where was everyone getting it? Were they all ransacking the bakery in her absence? He handed the package to her without a word. She took it, careful to keep her fingers from touching his, and eased off the bit of twine tied around it. The paper fell away, revealing a tiny hand-bound book with minutely lined pages. "Fundy..."

"I know how much you like to write, and sometimes you draw. You could put recipes or something in there. I figured your other notebook was running out of space…though I guess there's not a lot of space there…I just wanted you to be able to carry it with you…" His voice trailed off and he removed his hat, looking away as he twisted it in his hands.

"No, thank you, Fundy, this is perfect. Did you make it yourself?"

He looked at her, his smile small but genuine. She relaxed. "Yes, I did."

She rifled through the book, ran a finger over the tiny, rough pages. Had he even made the paper himself?

"Niki..."

She faced him. "Yes?"

He looked uncomfortable, rocking a little, his hands still twisting his hat. His gaze searched her face, his lips parted slightly. She noticed his heaving chest, and wondered what he was going to say that was making him so nervous. "We're about to go to war, you know, and...I was wondering..."

His voice came to her from faraway, and her thoughts drifted. What had Wilbur been thinking these past couple weeks, besides destruction? What was he wondering, hoping for? Might he remember their dream, their songs for nights like that of her birthday party? Would they ever be able to sing and dance without sorrows?

"...may I...kiss you?"

Reality swung back. She faced Fundy, too shocked to do anything but stare at him, jaw slack.

"Why...would you say that?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I just thought...in case we don't make it...out..."

"No, you may not, Fundy."

His shoulders sagged, ears drooped. He faced forward, and his hand slipped into his pocket again. "Oh."

"Fundy, you're my friend, but you know I don't think of you…in that way."

He extracted his lighter from his pocket and began playing with the wheel. "Yeah, I know."

She stood. "I'm going to go see what the others are doing. Wilbur's probably awake if you want to talk to him." She rubbed the little book's leather cover. "Thank you again, Fundy. For the gift."

He didn't move, didn't say anything, just kept snapping the wheel of the lighter.

She slid the book into her pocket and walked down the hill.

He hasn't given up. I wish we could just be friends again. I wish we could just go back to the way it was. Before – everything.

Oh, how many others wished the same thing, though? Of course, everyone wished things would go back to the way they had been.

And she had known that Fundy liked her, even before that day when they had inducted her as an official citizen of L'Manberg and all of Fundy's intentions had become clear – though she never would have used the other word. But Fundy was her friend, and she had hoped that the starry-eyed way he looked at her would eventually fade.

And for a time, she thought it had.

Up until when he broke open his heart for her before the festival. For her. Why for her? Why did he care so much?

The day passed in a dream. Cleaning weapons, securing supplies, replacing Tubbo's dressings, stealing some time to go out and find Eret. She had taken a blanket and a parcel of baked potatoes with her, and hoped Wilbur wouldn't mind.

She had found Eret at the edge of the forest, weary and dirty, tense and reaching for his sword – when he realized it was her and he smiled. His unkempt hair looked a little brambly, mud and bits of undergrowth clung to his humble clothes.

"Hello again, Miss Nihachu." He bowed. "I'm sorry, I can't be too careful out here."

She smiled. "Don't worry. But I told you, you can call me Niki, especially if you want me to call you just Eret."

He shook his head. "I'm not even king anymore. Not that that title really held much meaning before anyway."

She smiled at the bundle she carried. "Tommy told me what happened, and he said you were out here."

He nodded. "It's all right. A small price to pay for doing the right thing." He took a deep breath, then sagged. "I almost came to your party," he continued after a moment, sounding embarrassed. "Karl even invited me. But – well, I couldn't do it." He lowered his head. "I'm sorry."

"It's all right, Eret. I understand." She held the blanket and the parcel of potatoes out. "I brought you this." Eret hesitated, but he stepped forward and took them from her. "I can bring you more food," she added.

"Thank you, but I've been hunting and gathering."

"Is it enough, though?"

Eret gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Do not worry about me, Miss Nihachu. I do not wish to be a burden to you or any of the others, especially since –" He stopped.

Since Wilbur is already a burden to us?

"It's going to get colder," Nihachu said after a moment. "Please. If there is anything I can do, I want to help." She rubbed her gloved hands together. "It's the least I can do," she whispered. You've been a better friend to me than my closest friends.

He gave her another bow. "I will let you know."

"Thank you, Eret." She sighed. "I should go now. There's a lot to do to prepare for the 16th."

"I imagine so."

"See you later." She turned, looked back at him once.

He smiled, nodded. "Goodbye."

She left. Pogtopia might be warmer inside, but she felt as though she had left all comfort out here in the wilderness with Eret.

Wilbur had promised not to blow up Manberg unless they failed, but he remained unhinged and exasperating.

"I rather hope everyone loses so I can press my beautiful little button," Wilbur crowed as they went over their weapon supply in the armory cave with the others.

"I joined L'Manberg because of you, Wilbur," Nihachu hissed. "I supported this war because of you. I believed in your ideals and thought it would take us somewhere, somewhere better and happy. You don't care about any of that anymore. You've changed." You and Fundy both.

He glared at her, something she couldn't remember him ever doing before in the past. His voice rose, grating and hopeless. "You don't understand, Niki! No one understands! You think things will just go on forever – you think ideals last forever, but they don't! Get your head out of the clouds and start being realistic."

Technoblade ushered Tommy and Quackity out of the cave, but Nihachu hardly noticed. Her chest tightened, and her voice rose almost to match Wilbur's. "I am not the one being unrealistic, Wilbur! You want to blow up everything we worked so hard for!"

"I probably won't even get to do that now anyway! That's my one – You know nothing!" His face, once so gentle and loving, now turned hard and cruel, veins standing out in his eyes and neck, and from the way his right shoulder and arm twitched, she wondered if he had nearly hit her.

Tears slipped into the bottom rim of her eyes, but she wiped them away, refusing to bow to him. I miss you, Wilbur. Why did you leave me. She turned from him, heading for the cave entrance and intending on going up to her little room, but then she felt his hand on her shoulder, and she stopped, stiff.

"Nihachu." Soft. Quiet.

Her heart, already cold, trembled at his voice. The single lantern on the hook above their heads flickered on the cavern walls, reflecting the dim softness in his words. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry for...yelling at you. For what I said. I'm sorry."

She spoke in barely a breath, her voice tumbling out automatically, though she didn't know if she meant the words it carried. "I forgive you, Will."

"You don't approve of my choices. You've made that clear. I'm just…this is who I am now, and I can't go back."

Why? That makes no sense. She swallowed the words, but she finally faced him, and he did not look so wild as before. Now, standing there in the pale, monotonous glow from the lantern, just the two of them, he looked fragile and unassuming, an unseen weight bowing his shoulders, a great sadness radiating in his unguarded eyes. She took half a step toward him, then checked herself.

A ghost of a smile flickered on his lips. "Niki?"

"Yes, Wilbur?"

He reached out to her, and God forgive her, she surrendered her hands to him. A warmth spread from his fingers, up her arms, and into her chest.

"When this war is all over...when we do win and have peace...would..."

Her heart beat faster, and she wondered if he was really going to say what she thought he would say. Does he really want peace? He was just saying how he hoped we would lose so he could…He pulled away from her and lifted his necklace over his head, filling the palm of his hand with it. A hole formed in Nihachu's chest.

"What are you doing, Will?"

"Would you . . . would you have me?"

She stared at the necklace in his palm, catching the lantern light like a chain of silver tears. She looked up into Wilbur's face. He smiled, but death shone from his eyes. The hole deepened. Though she had been half-expecting it, Nihachu's eyes misted over. She had not understood girls who cried when they got proposed to, but now she thought she knew. The old was fading. The new was lining her horizon with pink and gold.

Though the night would envelop them soon, a dying moon to hang over their heads, and death lurking beyond it in the new day.

The words came out, though she didn't understand them, and again didn't know if she really meant them. "Of course, Wilbur. Of course. With all my heart."

He unhooked the necklace and drew it around her neck, stepping behind her to reattach it. "My parents gave it to me," he whispered.

She touched the feather charm, worn smooth by Wilbur's fingers. "It's beautiful." Her words rang cold and false in her ears, but what else could she say?

Wilbur stepped in front of her again, and though his smile increased, it did not reach his eyes. He caught her around the waist and pulled her up to him. His other hand cradled her head, and for the first time, he kissed her mouth. She almost missed his words, whispered down her throat.

"I love you, Niki."

She fought the tears threatening to come out. "I love you, Wilbur."

"Maybe I threw myself at someone I didn't really know, and ended up trapping myself."

Oh, what am I doing?