A/N: Okay...sorry but, this chapter is more or less a chance for me to insert a ridiculously long Author's note without it just being...and A/N. Does that make sense?

The actual update itself is only a few paragraphs long -blush- but this way, I feel less bad than if I would have a straight Author's Note.

My announcement is that I started writing an alternate version which I have already begun to post. It's almost a completely different story but some of the character's names are the same.

I just felt frustrated with how slow this story was taking to get to the main plot, but I am NOT abandoning it or giving up on it. I'm just trying another avenue. I'll still update both stories.

If you want to be the best reader/reviewer ever, you will look over the newer story and tell me what you honestly think:

Should I keep both versions?

Replace one with the other?

Eat Nachos? :O)

Thank you for your time,

The new story is called hunted.

:D ~nicola

Vivian blinked dazedly, the images of some half-forgotten dream on the tender threshold between slumber and waking still floating beneath her eyelids. She stirred, tossing her head, and curled her body tighter beneath the covers. Despite the heavy tunic and trousers she still wore she shivered, while the breath on her pillow froze to ice.

Creak.

Her eyes snapped open instantly. She sat up, dispelling the longing to sleep from her limbs with a push of the coverlets encircling her limbs. Shadows covered objects of her room like dark blankets, leaving only a patch of glimmering silver on her floor where the moon peered in. Cautiously, she climbed from bed. Her bare feet hit the cold floor with enough shock to suck the air from her lungs. She slapped a hand over her mouth to silence the gasp drawn from her lips.

Why the caution? She asked herself silently, the question seemed answered for her as a streak of lightning cut through her windowpane. Because of Velkan some part of her answered. Her hand reached almost automatically to her night table where her dagger lay ready. She drew it from it's sheath, holding it aloft, and crept to her door, worry clouding her mind. Perhaps the hunter returned? She thought. Her hand tensed on the door handle. Perhaps not. She opened it slowly, blinking as her eyes adjusted to the hall's darkness. Nothing stirred but her own feeble heartbeat. She glanced, once, twice, her eye scanning the corridor's dark wood. Her body tensed with relief and she let the knife fall from her fingers to the floor, seeing nothing. She allowed herself to smile. It was just an overreaction. The wind has got you worried Vivian.

Then she saw them, branching from the corner of her eye: A trail of wet, muddy footprints snaking from the open window.