Aelin quickly made her way further into the woods, sprinting nearly silently through the spread of trees and using the golden glow of the near-setting sun to judge her direction. Though she predicted she had an hour or two before the landscape fell to darkness, Aelin's unfamiliarity with the land propelled her to push forward. She moved mechanically, controlling her breathing with fixed counts and pumping her muscles in a steady rhythm. As her feet ate up distance, Aelin relished the unhindered movement of her limbs, liberated from the iron chains-- while also cursing the weakness of her body.

Though she moved remarkably fast for human standards, the progress she was making in her fae form was noticeably slower. She had expected the poor physical condition of her body to be impeding, but the disorientation brought on by her unaccustomed fae senses proved far more surprising.

Her heightened hearing and vision put Aelin on unstable ground as she ran through the strange territory. An abundance of magical creatures and potent flora assaulted her senses incessantly; were it not for the visibility of the light from the sun, Aelin suspected that her progress would be even slower.

She knew that Maeve would have already sent males to track her, and though the Queen's males had had more time to adjust to the other-worldly Spring Court, Aelin expected that the new sensations of running through these forests were equally-- if not, more-- overwhelming to their more refined senses.

Soon, her pace began to slow, her ravaged body becoming heavier and less responsive. The air could only enter and leave her chest in dry, heaving gasps, her throat tasting of blood from the rawness of her lungs, and her legs threatening to buckle. Her chest constricted further as she acknowledged the implications of her exhausted body and hindered progress.

The surrounding trees suddenly began to thin, and Aelin purposefully slowed her pace as the coverage became more sporadic. She quickly reached the edge of what she had mistakenly assumed to be a dense forest.

Shit, she whispered raggedly, the breaths clambering out of her mouth in raspy puffs. Keeping just a few steps within the shadowed treeline, Aelin looked down upon a large village. Rows upon rows of brown buildings and branching streets, harboring hundreds of moving figures. The lights and constant buzzing of village-life spoke of non-stop activity, and no doubt thousands of occupants-- thousands of eyes and witnesses.

Aelin retreated a couple of steps back into the treeline. She recalled the appearance of the fae who had welcomed Maeve upon their arrival at the Spring Court house-- their pointed ears and stature very similar to her own; however, without the slight protrusion of canines that she possessed. If the occupants of this village were of the same fae species, Aelin would easily be able to slip through undetected; however, in a village residing in the far outreaches of any land-- there were bound to be more differences than distance and money which separated its occupants from that of their ruler. And in a land that also possessed heightened levels of magic, she was unwilling to take the risk of hoping her human form might draw less attention than her fae one.

So, Aelin retreated even farther into the small woods, returned to a particularly hospitable-looking tree, and clambered up, where she stretched out her legs, balancing on a branch and leaning her back against the trunk. Nearly every bone in Aelin's body rebelled against her staying in one location, the adrenaline of near freedom and the knowledge of her pursuers pulsing in her veins. Urging her to run. Some part of her swore that she could hear the pacing of Maeve's fury and the quiet formidable thudding of her fae males spreading throughout the Court, throwing their senses around them in wide arcs, searching. Tracking her.

Aelin's thoughts won out over her instincts, though, as she knew that she could not afford being singled out in that village any more than she could afford staying still. She would wait for dark, and then she would use the cover of night to slip through.

She spent the next minutes listening intently across the trees, searching for signs of anyone who might hear her, or give her reason to move quickly. When she found none, she slowly twisted in the tree, her muscles screaming, and slung the pack off her shoulders.

Pulling her legs inward, she rested the pack on her thighs and slowly rifled through its contents. She made just a quick note of the various food provisions, before lifting a small black, velvet pouch. Though she could already determine its contents from the dark energy emanating with her close proximity, she gently pulled the strings open and looked inside. A slight shake of the bag shifted the thin white powder and revealed the black obsidian stone. The wyrdkey. She assumed the powder to be the aforementioned magic-inhibiting powder. Aelin pulled the strings closed and tucked the small pouch into her chest bindings.

She continued assessing the contents of her pack. Slight relief coursed through her, as she lifted a canteen of water, from which she drank deeply, her throat stinging from the cool liquid. She took pause, however, when she lifted another, smaller canteen.

Feyre's hurriedly spoken words resurfaced: The blood will heal you, and Aelin warily uncorked the leather canteen. A sharp scent hit her nose, and she peered inside, considering the dark red liquid sloshing against the side. The tang of blood became more distinguishable; she recoiled slightly.

The fact that she even hesitated was godsdamned madness. Blindly drinking a stranger's blood should not have warranted any form of consideration. Yet...

Aelin was painfully aware of how her enfeebled body was hindering her progress, and she knew that her already slim chances of evasion narrowed with every moment she spent exhausted and weak.

Aelin watched the blood a minute longer before expelling a curse under her breath and lifting the canteen. She threw her head back and gulped the salty red liquid in three swallows.

Continuing with the pattern of doing things contrary to her instincts, Aelin used another swig of her valuable water to wash down the taste.

The effect was immediate. The sensation of Feyre's blood was much different than her experiences with healers in her own dimension or her own healing abilities. Where before, the healing process was slow and medicinal and drained from her or another's reserves of magic-- this was the opposite.

It came in a rush of heat, a sudden warmth emanating from her center and spreading throughout her body. Her breath quickened in surprise. Her muscles contracted, tensing at the onslaught of magic. She imagined the blood sliding down her throat and pooling in her stomach; then slowly seeping into her bloodstream. It gradually moved up her veins, traveling and spreading down and throughout her limbs.

The time she has spent bound and weakened under Cairn's hands began to fade, overwhelmed by a heated, itching sensation. She continued to imagine the blood latching onto her muscle fibers and branching off into tiny tendrils, repairing damage and prickling the inside of her skin in its process. The places where Cairn had cut her made themselves acutely known, the itch intensifying, as if recounting old, distant memories; the ghost movements of blades tingled across her body, and she tightened her grip on the tree as the magic heightened to a less bearable level.

Aelin was beginning to consider the alternative outcome of her drinking the blood, when the near-stinging warmth began to back away-- its crux having been met. The magic slowly filtered out of her body, seeming to expel from her heavy breaths in smooth invisible clouds, until only a faint prickling remained in some of the deep tissues of her muscles. No doubt places where Cairn had focused the most of his energy.

Aelin extended her arm, slowly twisting it through the space before her. Watching. Feeling. Testing. She thought she felt a distinct difference in that limb alone, but she knew she wouldn't be sure of the blood's effect until she started walking. So, for now, she closed her eyes, extending her fae senses into the unfamiliar world around her-- and felt and listened and waited.

...

Night fell quickly, and Aelin eagerly slid from her perch in the tree as soon as she deemed it dark enough. If not for her pulsing need to move, then for the distant, reverberant sounds of gods-knew-what awakening from deeper within the woods.

The movement of all of her limbs at once was liberating. Her body felt looser and carried more strength than she'd felt in even the weeks leading up to her capture. Maybe longer. She awed over the returned strength in her arms and legs and pulled her shoulders back, savoring the loose movement of her back muscles. All from drinking a couple swigs of Feyre's blood. Even not knowing hardly anything about their world, Aelin suspected very few, if any at all, knew of the fae female's healing abilities. Aelin could list off a nearly-infinite number of names in her own who would kill for access to such strength and revival.

She continued to relish the unhindered motion of her body, as she began stalking through the forest. Back to the distantly emerging lights of the village.

Aelin revised her earlier statement of calling the settlement a village. It was a town. Albeit, a town with the profits of a smaller village. The streets were dirt, and the buildings fairly ramshackle, yet the silhouetted figures of the people she walked among spoke differently, their posture held higher and with less low-born commonness than their surroundings suggested. Even at night, construction crews and materials were strewn about. The constant hammering of tools reverberating across the buildings. A town of people who knew of better times-- who were reconstructing. Healing.

She continued forward, down a dirt street which had used to be cobbled, if the skittering piles of stone were any indication. Without a hood to completely shadow her features, she angled her head down and moved forward, single-directionally and relying mainly on the ground and her peripheral vision. The cover of the night hid any suspicions prone to her posture, and she moved purposefully down the road.

Though she felt the fleeting eyes of those who walked as well, she successfully avoided mutual acknowledgement, and therefore interaction. She supposed; however, that in a town as noticeably close-knit as this one, her success was, in part, due to the festive meal-times taking place around her. On the edges of the streets, and in the spaces between the squat buildings-- many of which appeared to be small businesses--, huddles of figures grouped around numerous fires, roasting fish and other sizzling animals, or chomping on various vegetable-like plants. Smaller child-figures sat closer, listening to stories, or playing amongst themselves-- their shrieks of laughter spilling over the thick volume of older, conversational voices. Despite their poverty, the people spoke merrily and treated the evening like a small family gathering-- everyone helping one another to the publicly-available food, yet also simply enjoying the evening. As if celebrating something.

One of the fire gatherings had been placed closer to the main road than the others, and as the orange flames illuminated the villagers more clearly, Aelin had to force herself to keep moving with a steady pace. To not stop and gawk, or break into a faster speed.

She had been right in her assumption that those who lived this far from the manor in which she had been kept would possess more differences than money. Sharp angles and elongated limbs, all made more jaunty by the night's blackness and the narrow light sources. Skin colors pulled straight from the rainbow. Some covered in fur. Others in metallic scales. Croppings of wings, large or small in size, smattering the village, reflecting the light of the fires. Some of the figures were illuminescent in themselves, as if they had their own light source living beneath their skin. The whole town was awash in the colorful eccentricities of its people-- all clustered together and living off of the same resources like no other group Aelin had witnessed. Fae unlike any she had ever seen.

It was with great difficulty that Aelin prevented herself from raising her head entirely to examine the other townspeople around her. Yes, the fae here were much different than those in her own lands. And she felt the gaze of others more keenly as she continued forward in her nearly-human body-- at least, compared to those around her. Her newly-replenished magic thrummed underneath her skin, and her muscles tightened instinctually with anticipation.

Fortunately, the number of fae lessened as she crossed the middle of the town and approached the opposite edge, the darkness thickening with the fires and townsfolk, which fell behind her.

Where the town was edged by the small forest on the south, its north side opened up into miles of rolling hills and cultivated fields of sorts, their slight forms just distinguishable in the night by the light from intermittent houses spotting the landscape. 

Aelin hesitated. Feyre had failed to mention how long it would take her to reach the border, or if there would be any obstacles or other that entailed more than just walking across. With no inclination to what or how much lay ahead of her, Aelin was walking-- quite literally-- blind into the dark fields.

She recounted what she had seen walking through the town. Clusters of merry fae, working and laughing with one another. Children roaming freely and males and females wrapped in one another's embrace. It was a much more welcoming atmosphere than any in her own world. So, with another cat-stretch of her healed limbs, Aelin loosened her facial expression, curved her shoulders slightly inward, and tentatively shuffled back in the direction she had come.

...

It was no small comfort to find what she often considered the bloodlife of any town or city-- the tavern. She supposed no matter the destitution or the wealth of a people, everyone had cause to drink. The building was slightly larger than the majority of others. And though its walls were made of precariously placed logs of wood, the life which teemed from its doors was akin to that of any tavern made of stone or rock. Sidestepping a boisterous trio of exiting fae males, she entered the building.

The room exploded in sound and light. Candles were placed on nearly every surface, and looking at the mass of raucously drunk patrons, Aelin marvelled at how none of them had been knocked over. Slipping her face into one of poorly-masked anxiety, Aelin moved through the room and to a table near the back. A bar would have been preferable for her needs, but the almost shanty-like tavern didn't have one.

She looked through the fae in the room, taking note of their continually varying physical attributes, and watched as a handful of them skitted about the room, carrying armfuls of mugs. They too were smiling.

Aelin caught the eye of one of the females-- whose elongated arms and supple body appeared particularly inclined for carrying drinks through a crowd. The female smiled at her and lifted a delicate finger before disappearing through a set of doors. She returned seconds later, and as the female approached the table, Aelin noticed that her skin was of a very light blue, which appeared as pale tan from a distance. The fae woman's eyes sparkled a deeper shade of cerulean-- similar to Aelin's own eyes--. The female's long, dark hair was stark against her pale skin, as she placed her hands on her hips and asked "What can I get for you, sweetheart?"

Aelin swallowed before answering in a soft, delicate voice. "Just water, please."

The female watched her for a moment before turning on her heel with a promise to bring it out. Swinging her pack from behind her, Aelin slowly searched through its contents until she pulled out a small bag containing coins, and folded it in her palms.

The fae woman returned, carrying a large tankard of water. Aelin had been staring at the door to the tavern, and jerked slightly in her seat when the water was placed on the table. Her eyes jumped to the female's, and she reached into her coin purse. "Thank you. How much--."

The fae woman sighed before pulling up a chair and sitting across from Aelin. Her long arms reached to the middle of the table. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Aelin allowed a brief moment of panic to slip across her features. "Isabel." she replied quickly. The fae woman smiled. "Now we both know that's not true, but I'm just going to move on. It's obvious you're not from around here, and since you have high fae in your blood and all--" The female gestured delicately to Aelin's face. Aelin's eyebrows raised slightly, but she must have taken it for another sign of panic, for she changed her course of direction. "Look-- I don't need to hear your sob story. We've all got one to tell, the daughter of some high fae or another feeling the need to run away being the least of them." This time, the female gestured to the pack which Aelin held in her lap, and Aelin shifted slightly. "So, I'm just gonna cut to the chase." She reached across the table and held Aelin's hands in her own blue, spindly, fingers. "Where do ya need to get to?"

Aelin glanced at their intertwined fingers, more than surprised at the immediate compassion in them, before meeting the female's blue eyes. "North," she breathed. "Across the border." The female merely nodded. "Let's save you the trouble now and change that to Northwest. Those at the Summer Court will be much more open to a female's plight."

Aelin nodded eagerly, tucking away the information. "Now," the fae woman said, reaching for Aelin's pack "what do you have already packed--" Aelin turned away slightly, clutching the bag tighter. The female paused and released a slight huff of annoyance.

"Alright," she spoke. "Can you tell me what you have?"

Aelin ignored the question. "How far away is the border?"

The female tilted her head slightly. "The border," she emphasized, "is three hours away on foot, but once you enter the Summer Court, there won't be anything else besides grass and flowers for another handful of hours. You'll be better off staying here for the night, and leaving in the morning."

Aelin shook her head. "No. I need to leave the Spring Court as soon as possible."

The female arched a delicate brow in question, but Aelin continued in a timid voice. "Are there any... am I going to run into--" she finally settled. "--is it dangerous to be this close to the edge of the courts?" She bit her lip.

Peering at her from underneath long, dark, lashes, the female unwrapped her fingers from Aelin's hand and withdrew her arms. "Not lately, no. The creatures you're thinking of prefer lurking in the woods, anyhow. Nevertheless, I hope you have a weapon of some sort in that pretty little satchel of yours." It was a question, and even if she hadn't strapped the dagger she'd found in the pack to her leg, Aelin nodded.

The female blew an incredulous breath through her nose. "Am I going to have to worry about some fae male coming and knocking down my door, looking for you?"

Aelin dropped her eyes to her water. "It's not unlikely."

"Quick piece of advice, if you don't mind." The female met her eyes. "-- don't be flashing your coins around like that. There's a great many of us who wouldn't hesitate to jump at the opportunity." Then, in a sudden motion, the she stood up, straightening to her full height and  pushed the chair in almost maternally, her pale blue fingers wrapping around the wood.

"Well then, in regards to your seeking fae male, I better stop drinking, shan't I... lest my memory fail me while I'm recovering from the ale." Her eyes sparkled genially-- a wink without the physical motion-- and the blue female glided away to attend to another table.

Gently unfurling her fingers from where they still held her coins, Aelin returned the purse to her pack and slid the untouched tankard of water to herself. She sniffed and tasted its contents, and after she determined its reliability, she poured as much as she could into her partially-depleted canteen. Sparing another glance for the shockingly amiable fae woman, Aelin stood from her chair.

...

When she  returned, the blonde fae girl had disappeared, surprising the keenly watchful blue faery. Shifting the numerous drinks in her arms, she loosed a breath and rolled her eyes. Spoiled, self-absorbed high fae. Ongoing poverty, grapples with famine, the destruction of homes, the murder of families, and a continuing influx of orphans... there were much larger problems at hand than the boredom of the high fae or an unwilling daughter being forced into marriage. The faery frowned at the thought of having to deal with any who came looking for the runaway fae girl, a snarl fighting its way onto her face. It fell, though, and her annoyance faded slightly as she lifted the near-empty tankard of water. She didn't know if it was generosity or just plain stupidity and ignorance. But sitting on the table where the tankard had been was a single, gloriously gold coin.

...

The movement of her body was astounding. She savored more in the pumping of blood and magic beneath her skin, her muscles no longer weighted with exhaustion and her lungs liberated from the wracking burn she had felt upon release from her chains. The landscape blurred around her, and the air whipped her hair, as her fae abilities propelled her through the night. A smile broke across her face.

She ran by sound and feel, more than sight. The grass, which separated the various fields of crops in a grid-like fashion, was thick and plush, quieting Aelin's thudding steps. And the heady sounds from the village-esque town quickly gave way to a gentle rustle of grass and trees. The day's warm breeze had cooled, and Aelin found it to be a comforting sensation as she ran through the Spring Court.

The Spring Court. Not for the first time, Aelin pondered whether this name had been given arbitrarily, or if the land really did stand up to it. If, by some form of magic, the Spring Court forever experienced the respective season. She supposed it would be answered upon arrival to the Summer Court.

She ran for hours, stopping less than periodically to take careful swigs of her water. The fae female from the tavern had said three hours on foot, but it felt much less than that when Aelin first felt the shift in magic of the border. Not very poignant, but somewhere in the near distance emanated a subtle hum-- a slight vibration in the air, which signaled the border's presence. She came upon it quickly, slowing her pace immediately when it came into the view. The border itself wasn't visible, but Aelin knew exactly where it lay, by the sudden visual shift in the land.

Looking at the ground, the difference was not noticeable, for the grass remained the same. But looking up, where the Summer Court began, the rest of the landscape simply changed. Even in the dark, Aelin could see it. Trees that suddenly became taller and possessed thicker canopies. The flowers became more sporadic, while jumping from soft pastels to sharper and more vibrant hues. The sky appeared clearer, as well, and the ground stretched on for longer without the interruption of clusters of flowered bushes or budding trees. The Summer Court simply looked sharper, and Aelin knew that if it were daytime, the plant life would turn more yellow-green under the harsher golden light of the sun.

The hum of magic she sensed did not intensify as she approached and stopped just in front of the invisible line.  It just simply was. As if created by the line of space where the Spring Court and the Summer Court's magics met, but could not exist at the same time. A vibration in the air due to the clash of power and resulting absence of it. She lifted one of her arms in front of her body-- reaching across the border and twisting her fingers on the other side. Nothing. She brought her arm back to herself.

Her breathing had become ragged from her prolonged run, but she pulled in a lungful and steeled herself before stepping across the border and into the Summer Court.

...

The sun was a welcome blanket of warmth, its rays warming the ground on which Aelin lay as she somewhat reluctantly came to. Even when she awakened fully, she lay still under the thick outcropping of underbrush-- extending her senses into the area for signs of consequential life. When she found none, she rolled out from her makeshift sleeping place and began loosening the knots from her shoulders. Taking a swig of water, she looked from her place at the very edge of a treeline and out across the field from which she had come. The sun was high in its path, and Aelin estimated she had slept for only a handful of hours.

The atmosphere hit her once more, as she ran her foot across the ground, erasing signs of her presence. Upon entering the Summer Court, she had been overwhelmed by a wave of warmth. The air had suddenly become denser-- more humid and filled with the aroma of green plants and citrus. A not unwelcome reprieve from the ubiquitous musk of flowers in the spring court.

The differences in the two courts was infinitely more apparent in the daytime. The species of plants completely altered, the taller trees throwing long shadows across the forest floor. Like she had predicted, everything possessed a more golden hue than that of the Spring Court, and there were many more sources of water. Ponds and creeks and the rumbling promise of a river nearby.

She had ran through most of the night, and was an hour or two into the court, when her tired body forced her instincts to reason, and she had found a secure and hidden location to rest. Feeling the rejuvenation in her bones, she knew it had been necessary.

Aelin walked forward steadily, stretching and warming her stiff muscles. A thought had occurred to her during the night, and before she began running, she flipped open her pack and pulled out the small leather canteen that had contained Feyre's blood. With a single thought, the object erupted into flame, and Aelin watched as the canteen disintegrated, turning to ash in her palm. When it was done, she let the black powder fall from her closed fingers and spread gradually upon the ground, as she began trekking through into the woods.

She had no doubt that Feyre had risked a great deal to help her escape, and if the high fae's-- so the blue female had called them-- physical attributes were any indication, Aelin assumed that they would be able to smell the leather canteen and know exactly who it had come from. She would put Feyre's cover in as little danger as possible.

After a few minutes, her limbs felt loose enough to open into a light jog. She continued through the woods, increasing her speed and stretching as she saw fit, until she had broken into a near-sprint. Feyre had said that once she crossed the border, the Spring Court Soldiers would be unable to follow. But that did not apply to Maeve's warriors. So, Aelin intended on maintaining her near breakneck pace until she was many days out from the border. Maybe until she stumbled across another court.

When they had arrived to the Spring Court, Maeve leading her dozen warriors while she was wrapped in chains, the blonde male-- Tamlin, she thought his name was-- had introduced himself as one of seven high lords. Aelin automatically assumed that there were seven courts as well.

She considered this more as she ran. Feyre had also told her to find Rhysand. To trust the High Lord of the Night Court. Aelin had only ever really glimpsed one high lord, and she wasn't incredibly keen on meeting another. Not if they all possessed the power and arrogance of the one ruling the Spring Court. She didn't have time to deal with politics or thorny court intrigue. She had to find the second wyrdkey and get back to her own world, the need to return to her court pulsing beneath her skin like a second heartbeat-- right alongside the thrumming power of the wyrdkey still pressed within her chest bindings.

She had very little reason to believe that the second wyrdkey-- her family's amulet-- had landed in the same world. But Maeve had been so calm walking through her portal, as if everything would soon be put back in order, and the wyrdmarks through which Aelin had thrown the keys had suffered only the slightest variation...

Something instinctual inside Aelin told her that both wyrdkeys had landed in the same place. The same world. And that the second key was not that far away.