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"Wing."

Wing turned and looked at Carly across the expanse of the Mietan. His hair and body were drenched in sweat and he appeared tall and dark; but it was his face that startled her. Grey and fierce it was, thin and rigid.

What had happened? Carly wondered. She could think of no exterior events that had taken place in the past few days that could account for Wing's distress, nevertheless, he had been spent the last day or so alone, not even coming up to the house for meals.

It was late now and she'd come out to look for him.

"Wing?" she asked carefully.

"Now is not a good time," Wing said, and his voice was distant, haunted. He turned his face away and began to pace again.

The moon shone eerily through the large dome of stained glass high above. It's light filled the Mietan with a strange half-light through which Wing ranged, daunting and grey.

Bare-chested, the light gleamed across the long, jagged scars that covered his chest and shoulders.

"Wing, please..."

He seemed not to hear her, but his pace quickened, his body flashing against the imperial walls of the Mietan like silvered etching. For the first time Carly noticed that he held a sword in his hand.

"Wing, what's wrong? Are you hurt?"

This time Wing's eyes lit upon her. "Go away," he said evenly.

His eyes were hard, like pressed metal. Carly didn't move. Beneath the great vaulted ceiling of the Mietan swirled a feeling terrible and dark.

With a shiver in her lungs, Carly's feet began to move on their own, retreating back toward the two large Mietan doors from whence she'd come. In the form of a mind-numbing deluge, questions, confusion, and grief, flooded her until she felt she might drown. It seemed a great length of time had passed before her back brushed up against the great Mietan doors.

Startled, Carly blinked and shook her head. Across the room, in another splash of moonlight, Wing appeared then disappeared.

When he appeared again Carly thought she saw a tall man walking patiently behind the curved arms of a plow, the deep black soil churning up at his booted feet, the evening sun causing his hair to shine like polished black stone.

Though all features of his face were lost to her in the silvery-grey light, Carly heard the heavy beat of his heart in the great openness; felt its throb within the pale pulses of moon and starlight.

Her heart stopped racing.

Beneath the scars, beneath the feeling of dread that loomed in the expanse of the great hall, was that man of the fields—and he was neither shadow or blade. She would abandon him to neither.

Taking a deep breath, Carly refocused, fixed him in her gaze, then walked back toward the center of the Mietan.

"I'm not leaving," she said.

Wing continued to ignore her.

"Don't drop the reins, Wing. Talk to me," she said and her voice was firm; calm. It was the voice the Cant members had known so well.

Slowly, Wing set the sword aside and pulling his wet hair away from his face tied it in a knot at the back of his neck and, like a caged mountain cat, continued to pace the wide open floor. He passed from moonlight into shadow and back again, the immensity of his grief and anger filling the large open space.

Carly waited, sensing that she had reached him.

When at last he spoke, his voice was throaty, ill constrained—and barely recognizable. "Going back to Rieeve, Carly…Going back. By driving the Ka'ull out we will not be killing Ka'ull women and children. We will not be burning their homes, enslaving or murdering their people. There will be no justice. There will be no replacing what they took.

"I have you now, and Nien. And we have Quieness and Legran and possibly Jayak behind us—So why do I feel more alone than ever? I can't see Rieeve reborn. All I can see are images of hacking and burning and bleeding and driving out.

"It's all wrong.

"There is no happiness, there is no resolution. There is only death for land, for seed, for a broken and burned Village.

"I don't care, Carly, I don't care about the land. I never want to till another row, plant another crop...

"—But the Ka'ull. They should die for what they did—shouldn't they?" He breathed raggedly. "And shouldn't I want to do it? Shouldn't I want to kill them? Shouldn't I desire the satisfaction of seeing terror in a Ka'ull's eyes before I bury my sword in his chest?"

Turning Wing grabbed up the sword again and threw it across the Mietan. It spun through the air, moonlight glinting off its silvered blade as it revolved end over end, finally coming to a resounding clash against the floor and sliding to a stop at the far end. Wing twisted on his feet, his hands curling into fists and then his chest heaved as if something were briefly blocking his air. He struggled for a moment before taking a shallow, husky breath.

"I don't want to go back," he muttered, and stumbled a little. "I want to leave Rieeve"—he coughed, then inhaled sharply—"withered, desolate, dry. I want to forget about her and I just want to go away with you and Nien, and forget everything. Forget…it all."

He fell silent then and raised his eyes to Carly.

Carly trembled. He stood so tall, so magnificent—so terrifying. In his eyes she could see the ghostly truth of all he'd said and she suddenly felt very small; insignificant.

She was almost relieved when Wing took his eyes off her.

It took a few moments and considerable effort for Carly to look at him again. She watched as Wing remained on his feet for a time, wavering like a great tree in a fierce wind. And then he stumbled backward, his hands rising unconsciously to his chest as if he were trying to rip open an invisible shirt.

Instinctively Carly tried to go to him, but it was as if her feet were mired in heavy clay and she could not move.

Wing fell to his knees, his shoulders curling over his chest.

Carly thought she heard a dry sob, but it was only a trick of the wind, for Wing was silent; still as carven stone.

With illogical effort, Carly tried again to go to him. This time her feet obeyed, though it seemed to take a long time to close the short distance between them.

Once at his side, she lowered herself to the floor.

A long silence prevailed before Wing's weary voice whispered through the length of hair that had come undone and fallen about his face. "Nien has agreed to return to Rieeve. That which he fears most he has said he will face with me. He's only done this because he thinks it's what I want." With effort Wing turned and looked again into Carly's eyes. "But I don't, Carly. I don't. I just want to go away, some where far away. Just you, and me, and Nien."

Carly looked into his eyes for a long while. There was nothing else to say, nothing else to do. Slowly, she found her voice and said, "I am with you."

Wing's green eyes lowered and he slowly nodded his head.

"Come back with me to the cabin," Carly said softly.

Wing shook his head.

"Come back with me," she said again.

He remained silent for a time and seemed to sink a little, as if the very floor beneath him had begun to give way.

"I'll come back soon," he said.

Brushing his cheek with her palm, she pushed his hair away from his face and kissed him deeply at the corner of his mouth. She then got to her feet, and crossing the long smooth floor, stepped out through the Mietan doors.

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