A/N: Why did I leave off this chapter like this? I really don't know....

Anyway, there are gonna be mistakes, it prolly won't make any darn sense, and the characters are really cool. If you read this you get cookies for putting up with this bit of sunday boredom.

Also, if you didn't realize it by now...Arielle is blind. And if you didn't get that by now, I feel strangely amused and disapointed in my abilities at hinting. :D

Read on, if you dare:

Arielle could feel the warm waves of sunlight beaming down on her skin. The wind felt fresh and cool, filling her lungs with clean air not fowled by town smells. She traveled the main road surely with the aide of a wooden staff, not that she needed it. The hard-packed dirt of the main road was familiar, for Arielle traveled it countless times during the year. She kept to the side, away from the main traffic of the road and the hustle of people rushing hurriedly toward a distant destination.

She traveled with a relaxed ease, yet she hid her face and clothes from peering eyes beneath a heavy spun cloak. Experience had taught her that it was best for a traveler to go unnoticed by strangers in foreign parts.

From the sharp scent of horse dung, Arielle knew that she was somewhere along the western countryside hugging the northern border to Avandar. The isolated manors of wealthy men dotted the hillsides along this stretch of range, yet she was sure to keep far away from their lengthy borders.

She traveled swiftly, at a pace that most would find suspicious, not that it mattered. Foreigners always found her Adaran features and wide, milky eyes suspicious.

A bracing wind felt soft and loving against the bare skin she allowed to peek through her cloak. Her arms and shoulders ached with dust, and she could feel a rash branching across her back. Nights sleeping in piles of hay always left her feeling raw and itchy with some unseen parasite, but sunlight seemed to ease it.

She felt a smile tug on her mouth as the song of bluebirds filled her ears. Her water canteen knocked against her waist, filled to the brim with cold water from Yole's well and her belly hummed contently with a breakfast of honey cakes. Today she would reach the outskirts of this ragged country and soon enter the lowlands where the people were a bit kinder and the hay a bit cleaner. A rare good day. She could almost feel the slight kick in her step as she marched along. The good will lasted almost until she reached where the road curved alway from the farmlands.

So wrapped up in the comfort of a full belly, she didn't notice the urchin until a wiry body hurtled into her side. She fell to the ground in a daze, feeling a solid weight knock the wind from her chest. Her hand automatically darted to the meager money pouched strapped to her waist while the other gripped the urchin's robes before she could dart away.

She blinked in surprise. The fabric beneath her fingers felt fine and thin like silk, and not the rough wool she was used to. No urchin in all of the western lands could afford or even steal silk. Stout little limbs befitting only a child, flailed about desperate to break free but Arielle's grip held firm.

“You made a mistake in thinking me an easy target,” she hissed between her teeth. She had dealt with petty thieves more than anything else in these past few years and knew that the only way to send them off was to frighten them good. “I outta whip you, but good graces has caught me.” She gave the little demon a shake, feeling razor-sharp nails bit into her wrist. “Now go!”

“Let me go!” The high, reedy screech set Arielle's hairs on end. She could feel the child bumbling about as she released her grip. A small hand touch her arm, then pulled away again like the confused old beggars Arielle sometimes passed on her way. Fear and anger and helplessness mixed with a wretched sense of hate emanated from those silky robes like a bad smell. Arielle knew that stench well.

“Wait.” She reached out for a handful of silky robes and dragged the urchin down before she could run away. Something in the child's frightened, rasping breath made her voice grow warmer as she reached for a fragile hand. “Would you like something to eat?” The child's skin felt soft and warm, absent of the callouses that would scar a farmer's child's palm. Arielle didn't know who she was but it was clear from her lack of sly cunning that she didn't belong out here. Arielle could feel her heart automatically soften.

The child didn't speak, and Arielle couldn't see her nod or not, but she took the silence as an answer. Her hand darted into her pouch for a few crumbs of bread she had saved from the morning. There were only crumbles of coarse bread left, enough for a few mouthfuls, but she thought the child would be grateful for it anyway.

“Here,” she held the bread out in her hand, feeling nothing but the wind stir her meager offering. “Take it.”

A sudden thought made Arielle reach out for the child's hand and press the food into it. For a moment, the delicate fingers waited open and then snapped closed. The child snatched the food and ate it without pausing to swallow. Arielle could hear her choking and gasping the mush down her gullet.

She loosened her water skin and and trailed her fingers down what she guessed to be the child's face, over smooth cheeks and soft skin. When she touched the small mouth, she pressed the brim of the pouch to it. “Water.”

The flask trembled as the child took a long, greedy sip. Water dripped onto the earthen road and between Arielle's fingers. After a long while the girl drew back with a smack of her lips. Arielle waited for her to dart away or try to run but the child only leaned against her tiredly. She wondered how long the girl had been out alone in the sun.

“What is your name?” Arielle asked. She knew better than to expect an answer and wasn't surprised when her question received no reply. Still, she turned, taking care not to disturb the girl resting at her side, and felt for the delicate little hand. “My name is Arielle,” she whispered gently as she slipped her fingers into the warm grasp. “I will not hurt you.”

Edlan drove his horse ragged racing over the hills. Foam coated the animal's dark fur but he ignored it. His own neck felt stiff with sweat and the hot sun beating down only made it worse, but while he could push aside the discomfort, he knew that Orla couldn't.

Fear and worry for his daughter almost pushed Edlan into madness. Surely he hunted the hills and farmlands like a man possessed. He had been out since early in the morning after a breathless maid had dashed into his chambers to tell him that his daughter was missing.

Four hours later he had searched every corner of his manor and the faint edges beyond without finding even a black hair. She could have been anywhere in the countryside, could have been found by anyone, and the day was merely deepening. Soon it would be night, and he had no fantasies that his daughter would last even a minute once darkness descended.

Now he raced desperately over the foothills, calling his daughter's name until his voice grew ragged. He couldn't even speak over the rasping in his throat but it didn't matter, he screamed her name so loud in his head that he was sure people miles away could hear it.

He didn't know what he would do if he found her. Shake her, hug her and never let her out of his sight again, but this episode had pushed his nerves to shattering-- it had to be the last time. He wouldn't be even half the father he wanted to be if he allowed her to live like this. Once he found Orla, he would have to do the one thing he should have done long ago, and that had him trembling with fear.

He would have missed the faint scream had he not allow his horse to rest in a glade some distance from the road. The beast nibbled up fresh grass between pants for breath and Edlan wasn't any better off. His body ached in a way that even years in the army could never prepare it to. His back and arms ached with exertion while his mind only screamed to look farther, longer. Orla could be anywhere within the province by now.

It was only chance that he heard the childish shriek just as he slipped from the horse's saddle. The breathless, little cry could have been anyone of the numerous children dotting the countryside. Various manors hosted servants who lived with children, and they sometimes played loud games on the dusty roads near the fields. It wasn't unusual for a man to find hoards of grimy children lining the paths as the men returned from their labors. The cry could have been merely that of a playful game gone awry, but Edlan could feel his feet racing toward the sound before his mind even commanded them to move.

“Orla!” The scratchy shout tore from his mouth even before he had broken through the thorny underbrush blocking the road from the field. Sharp twigs and leaves stabbed at his flesh but they barely hampered his way. With a snap, the heavy branch barring his path gave way and he stumbled onto the grassy strip lining the road's edge.

Somewhere a woman screamed.

He had stumbled onto a market party on it's way home from the city. Ponies heavy with merchandise lumbered along with their riders, several of whom gaped at Edland with open mouths. The only child among them was an infant nestled close against a woman's breast . The babe gave another angry squeal and it's mother hastened to feed it.

Edland didn't paused long enough for the despair to set in. He tramped past the startled villagers deck out in their market-day finery and ignored the called greetings thrown his way once the emblem on his tunic revealed him as lord.

His eyes paced the desolate, empty fields hoping beyond hope that Orla waited nearby. Only the crows flying overhead seemed in tune to his distress, and they called to him with their ghoulish laughs. A group of them swooped and dived on some point in the distance. When they returned to the sky, their cries were those of full bellies.