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Hello! I am back, dear friends! Let us commence! 😀

ARTHAM WINGFEATHER

There is something fun about letting the kids in on the secret, I chuckle, but keeping Nia in the dark. It is certainly something Esben would have done. I glance over at Arundelle. She is staring off into the distance, toward the misty Killridge Mountains, and I follow her gaze. I wonder what she is thinking about. The terrible experience she had in the Deeps of Throg? The lonely years she spent rooted outside its entrance? Her time as the Queen of the Cloven? I wish I could rid her off all those memories, just as I would like to rid myself and all these other people of their haunts. But perhaps we need them, so that we will fully know what we have and work harder than ever to keep it.

Just at that moment, however, Arundelle gives a little cry of pain, and I turn around just in time to see her collapse to the floor. “Arundelle!”

Immediately I am at her side and hoisting her up so that she leans against one of the pavilion’s pillars. I frantically check her pulse and listen to her heart, then search for the nearest Hollish child (Sylvie??): “go get a doctor, or somebody; just go get help!”

I am clutching Arundelle’s hand tightly in my talons, so much so that I am probably cutting off her circulation. But I can’t let go until I know she will be safe from harm. I just can’t loose anybody else, not yet.

Why, when I am at my happiest, does everything take a turn for the worse?

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And there we go! Sort of a sad note to stop on, though 🙁