A happy new year to you all! It had occurred to me that a chapter a week is a terrible way to read any book. So I apologize for all those who have undertaken that method of reading. But I do appreciate your support! As far as technical difficulties go, Fanfiction has given up showing me an empty views chart, and now whenever I click on profile or story views, it gives me a blank page with, "An error has occurred while processing your request. Please email this error message in full to support .," scrawled at the top. Maybe that means they're closer to fixing it?

Oh well. Enjoy! My brother called this chapter a collection of skits. Maybe he was right.

Chapter Thirteen

The forest village, Sial
Year 707 of the Old Valendian Calendar

A woman tending a flower garden at the outskirts of town lifted her head as the procession of travelers went by. She gasped, then ducked back into her flowers, as if that provided cover. Cara shrunk into her cloak, then slowed her stride to be better concealed by other bodies. Balthier, walking a few paces in front, glanced back at her.

"Change your mind?" he asked. Cara shook her head.

"No. I'm not going to."

And that was that. She still didn't sound very friendly.

"This is so weird," Ashe said; she walked at Balthier's side and seemed to be having some trouble keeping up. Ashe cast a coy glance over her shoulder. "I always thought I didn't have any family."

Balthier let out a short chuckle. "Well, you Dalmascas are quite a bunch, I'll give you that. And here I thought it was just you that was slightly unhinged."

Ashe let out an indignant gasp.

"Oh, don't worry, princess." Balthier avoided her eyes. "It's not as if my family line is without its quirks."

A weight twisted in his pocket, and Balthier wondered again why he hadn't thrown the thing off a speeding airship yet.

"I-… I'm sorry," Ashe said. "That must've been…"

"You don't have to apologize for her because she's your cousin, Ashe," Balthier said. "Besides, her little remark didn't bother me." Liar.

Ashe pushed back a strand of stray bangs that never seemed to stay put. "But I still feel responsible."

Something pulled at Balthier's shoulders; that new sword was heavy. "If we're tracing responsibility through blood, then I know exactly who's responsible."

"Balthier-"

"Don't," Balthier said. He wished he hadn't said that at all; the last thing he wanted was Ashe's pity. He glanced over his shoulder at the others, who all gathered behind him for some reason. He shook his head. "Come on!"

…

Fran poked the fire, sending sparks up from the wood. The night was dark; dense leaves overhead blocked out the moon and stars, if they would even have been visible behind the cloud cover. They rested high up in the canopy, on the wide, wooden walkways built by the humans to bring travelers above the undergrowth and dangerous creatures prowling the ground. How pointless, since creatures from the trees still attacked them.

At the outskirts of the fire's light, Vaan tested his sword stance, slashing at an imaginary foe. Ashe sat half in her bedroll, lost in thought, while Penelo warmed her hands over the fire. Cara also sat near the flame. Balthier and Ziafer had left briefly, checking the perimeter before they all turned in.

Fran pulled her gaze from the fire she'd started and stared up into the leaves overhead, a frown slightly drawing her lips in a usual expression. Quiet, dark, yet not so quiet, too dark. This forest was so like Golmore, yet not. No glittering firebugs, and these walkways… Could humans not walk on the forest floor?

As they so often did when she thought of the Wood, melodies from her childhood crept into Fran's mind, tunes sang on the streets when the night choirs came out, sang by her cradle that she would never forget. That was the purpose of singing them to children. So they would never forget.

"What song is that?"

Fran pulled her gaze back down; she hadn't realized she was humming. Penelo sat with her knees up and stared across the fire, expectant of an answer.

"A… song of my people." Fran left it at that. No reason to elaborate.

"What sort of song?" Penelo asked, absently fiddling with one short braid.

"A bedtime song," Fran said. Penelo seemed to accept that, and all went silent again. The humming of insects, the wiffle of leaves, and Vaan's faint grunts… Penelo glanced between her two companions.

"Um… You're pretty strong." Penelo attempted conversation with Cara, who lifted her head in acknowledgement. "So is your brother. You two are good to have around."

"I don't want to talk about him," Cara replied.

"Oh. Well, you're strong," Penelo said. "I wish I could fight like you."

"Healers are important, too. We rely on them," Cara said simply.

Penelo blinked. "Oh. Thanks."

Cara hugged her knees, and all was silent again. Penelo rocked back and forth, then stood and left. She knocked on Vaan's shoulder and spoke briefly to him, then went off farther to dance.

Fran listened to the silence and hummed.

"You're a… Viera, aren't you?" Cara released her knees and sat straighter, staring into the flames. "I've seen your kind before."

"I've no doubt," Fran replied, glancing again at Cara's dark tunic. "I know what you do."

Cara stiffened. "I'm… sorry."

Fran watched the fire. "That is your right."

At that moment, Balthier and Ziafer arrived back. Fran watched Balthier go over to Vaan;

"Nice moves. Your stance is off, though." Fran's Viera ears picked up Balthier's voice.

"Hey, I'm trying here," Vaan said. "You know, I have spent the last six months hunting monsters. I haven't gotten killed doing that." He glanced towards where Ziafer had plopped on his bedroll, as if he expected a comment from him, but Ziafer's gaze was locked somewhere beyond Vaan.

Fran brought her eyes back to Cara, who watched their new arrivals.

"He doesn't take after his father," Fran said.

Cara looked away from him. "He has his blood. That matters."

"Does it?" Fran said, cocking her head.

"Yes," Cara replied. "I have the blood of kings, and that- has made all the difference for me." She lifted her face; with heightened Viera senses, Fran could see her eyes glimmer under her cowl. "You can't look me in the eye and tell me blood doesn't matter!"

Fran turned her gaze back to Balthier, and she couldn't help but see what she'd seen the moment they met. And feel what she'd felt then.

"No," she said quietly, a bedtime song in her ears. "I cannot."

…

Salikawood… Uplands… Who cares what they're called? Just a bunch of walking.

Vaan thrust for the heart of the wolf he envisioned in front of him. It flipped away and he spun around, careful of his feet, and threw a second blow. He remembered the feeling of satisfaction the first time he'd successfully skewered an Estersand wolf and imagined that'd be what he felt now, if his foe were real.

If it'd been real, it probably wouldn't have been that easy. Vaan sighed. He looked over his shoulder at the grassy hills and crags arching upward, reminding him that he'd be climbing them tomorrow. On the horizon lay a glittering sight, visible even this far. The seat of Archadia.

They were almost there, just one more day crossing these plains, whatever Balthier had called them. Chita? Shita? Vaan couldn't remember. It'd been two days since they left Sial.

Vaan lifted his sword and prepared to go again.

"Nice. Who taught ya to do that?"

Vaan jumped and spun to see Ziafer leaning against the trunk of a solitary tree, hands folded behind his head. The shrub had been Vaan's cover from the rest of the party, one of many scattered over the uplands.

In answer, Vaan considered whipping out the name of some renowned swordsman just to put off the cocky-smirking Ziafer, but nothing came to mind. So he just said, "I learned cause I had to."

"Oh. That's why you're so bad then," Ziafer said, nodding.

"I'm not bad!" Vaan said. Lying there like that, so relaxed… The guy would never see it coming. It'd be so easy to just stick his sword-

"Sure you're not." Ziafer jumped to his feet. He walked a few paces, hands still behind his head. Then he spun around. "So, wanna spar, Ratsbane?"

Vaan ground his teeth. He hated that name. It hadn't bothered him once, but the way Ziafer said it…

"Sure." Vaan hefted his sword, clenching the leather. He'd probably lose, but if he didn't, it'd feel so good.

Ziafer whipped out both his swords and held them up. "Okay, rules: no wounding so bad it'd make a major incident, but enough bleeding to make that sister of yours scowl." Ziafer swung one sword. "Actually, she's kinda cute when she scowls. And I don't meet many girls in my line of work. How old is she, anyway?"

Vaan blinked, caught off guard. "L-Like I'm gonna tell you!"

Ziafer shrugged. "I guess it was a long shot. I had a little sister, once, too-" He broke off, smirk vanishing. Vaan lifted his sword; he just wanted to beat this guy up.

Ziafer shook his head, and charged with a roar.