We ate and we talked and we laughed. Once Sil had finished her food, she stumbled off to find a few spiderwebs, face slightly green from eating so much so quickly. Erenia excused herself too, off to figure out more plans for the flying machine.

A tap on my shoulder turned my attention away from the current conversation. Captain Rayan stood there.

"Hi," I said. "Do you need something?"

"Can we talk in private?"

I frowned. "Sure."

She took off, and I quickly followed her, walking quickly in order to keep up with her long-limbed pace. We left the dining room, and she quickly turned toward the wall, sweeping her arm across it to open a door. It closed behind me when I entered.

We were in a small room, with two chairs, and a few torches on the walls. She sat on one of the chairs, motioning for me to go to the other. I did.

"How do you think Bran is doing?" she asked.

I shrugged. "Honestly, I don't know. I haven't seen him since he decided to stay here. Why? Is he okay?"

"No." Captain Rayan sighed, fidgeting uncomfortably with a silver ring on her thumb. "Look. I'm not usually one to interfere in things that are not my business, and I'd rather not start now... but are you sure Bran really wants to stay?"

"I thought so." Confused, I tilted my head to one side, trying to read her expression. It had been Bran's idea to stay in the first place. Why should he change his mind? "Why? Is something wrong with him now?"

"Does he trust you?" she asked, ignoring my question.

"I think so. I don't know."

"I'd talk with him, if I were you."

"You think he doesn't want to stay?"

She nodded.

"Then why doesn't he say something to us?"

"It's none of my business to know, or to tell you."

"Do you know?" I asked.

"I have a guess. But you can find out the truth for yourself."

"How? I don't even know where he is. I don't even know if he wants to see me—or anyone."

"He's on the upper deck."

I stood, turned to leave, then paused. "Why do you care? I thought you wanted us to stay with you. Isn't this a victory for you, whether he's happy about it or not?"

"I didn't just want you to stay," said Captain Rayan. "I wanted you to want to stay. I thought Bran did. But now, I'm not so sure." She looked away from the silver ring on her thumb, meeting my eyes. "I want you all to be happy, and safe. I don't want to force you to do something that'll make you miserable."

"Oh," I said. "Well... thanks."

She smiled at me, the expression gentle, for once. I offered her a half-smile in return, then headed up to find Bran.

Captain Rayan had been right. Bran stood at the rail of the ship, staring over the side, silhouetted by the slowly lowering sun. I walked over to him. "Hey."

"Hey," he echoed, turning his face away from me.

I frowned at that. Captain Rayan had been right—something was up with him. "Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Then why are you hiding?"

He shook his head. "I'm not hiding."

"Look at me, then."

Slowly, he turned his face toward me. His eyes were red. Tear tracks shone on his face, and as I watched, another tear spilled down his face. "Satisfied? What do you want, Fyra?"

"I want to know what's going on."

"Nothing's going on."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't know."

"Okay."

There was a short silence. It could have been awkward, but it wasn't. This felt like a place where people might just be quiet. The land spanned out beneath us, green and blue and full of life. Flocks of birds flapped slightly lower than us. I spotted one of my deathbirds a little ways off, riding a rising wave of hot air.

Bran's voice cut into my thoughts. "Are any of you going to miss me?"

I turned to him, slightly startled. "Of course we are."

Angrily, he wiped away another tear. "You don't have to pretend."

"Bran," I said firmly, "I'm not pretending."

"Then why didn't you protest?" He gripped the railing tightly, leaning over so far that, instinctively, I hovered my hand over his back in case he lost his balance and tumbled overboard. "I know you've all tried to be kind. You especially. You've changed, Fyra, and the new you is much more kind than the old one was. But I know none of you want me there. Unless it's for my powers." He laughed softly. "If I was in your place, I wouldn't want me on the team."

I pulled back my hand in annoyance. "Bran Rayden, you are an idiot."

He looked up, hurt on his face. "Hey!"

"Lark cried once you left," I continued. "Reed didn't seem to mind, or be surprised, but he's Reed. Have we ever actually seen him show any emotion other than annoyance?"

"Not really," Bran admitted. He met my gaze. "And what about you? You're the one with the most reason to hate me. You forgave me, but that doesn't mean you have to like me. It doesn't mean you have to want me to come with you."

"I want you to do whatever you want." I smiled at him. "Bran, we all love you. More importantly, we all like you, most of the time. We didn't want you to come with us because we thought you wanted to stay. We wanted you to be happy."

He hesitated for a moment. "And... if I chose to come with you, do you think they'd think less of me for it? Since, you know, I already said I was staying?"

"You said you were thinking about staying. And I'm sure they'll be fine with it. In fact, I think they'll both be very happy about it." I grinned at the thought. "Lark'll probably hug you, and I bet Reed will say that he knew it would happen, or he'll make some sort of sarcastic joke."

"And you're sure it won't bother you to have me along? We never really got along before this. Also, yesterday, I zapped you so hard you passed out."

I shrugged, pursing my lips. "I can always set my deathbirds on you again. You didn't like flying, so I bet you'll love being carried upside down over the forest and dropped into the river."

Bran rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Sounds great."

"I thought you'd like the idea."

"So what now?"

Laughing, I shook my head. "I don't know. We hang out and exist for a while? You can tell Lark and Reed about your decision at dinnertime. Otherwise, I've got no idea how we'll find them."

"I'm glad we exist," said Bran. "I'm glad you exist. You're a great friend, Fyra. If there's anything you ever need..."

"I'm not that great," I said.

He cocked his head to one side, smile turning to a frown. "What do you mean? You knew something was wrong, so you came to talk to me about it. That makes you a good friend."

"I didn't know something was wrong. I wouldn't have realized it at all if it hadn't been for Captain Rayan. She noticed there was something going on with you, and she told me." This time, it was I who leaned over the railing, staring at the ground beneath us so I wouldn't have to see the look on his face. "I don't have friends, Bran. I've never really had any friends—not even back at home. There were people I talked to, yeah, but that wasn't the same thing."

"Now you're the idiot," said Bran. "You've got Reed, and you've got Lark, and you've got me. We're all your friends." I snuck a peek at him out of the corner of my eye. He was frowning, but not with anger—with confusion. "I don't get it. What do you think friendship is? They care for you. They talk with you. And you're my friend, to. You might not have noticed that I was having problems, but you still came when Captain Rayan told you about it."

"Maybe that wasn't what I meant," I admitted. "I'm just not a good friend. I'm not good at being a friend."

"No one said you had to be perfect."

"But I'm glaringly imperfect."

"I don't think so." I looked up at him, met his gaze. He smiled. "You've got a good heart, Fyra. That's what counts."

"Oh," I said. "Thanks."

The word didn't seem like it was enough.

"You're welcome," he said. I smiled.

And we stood there in silence, watching the world beneath our feet.

If you're reading this, I'd like you to know that I'm glad you exist. And if you want to let me know that you're glad I  exist, please vote! Unless you're not glad, in which case you can... send me hate mail, or something.