Britta peeled back her eyes, and realised she was collapsed back onto the ground. She groaned and sat up, meeting Micahs eyes.

"You're glowing." He said.

Britta looked at her hands and realised that the remnants of the magic still ran through her.

"Um, yeah, about that...."

Micah rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to make a sarcastic remark. Then he turned red and looked away.

"You're not wearing anything." He said.

Britta looked down at herself. She was still wearing the loose bandaging around her chest and her trousers. The belt around them still held a dagger in its sheath.

"That's an over statement." Britta said, glancing over at him, his breathing was steady, and she realized he had fallen asleep. Who would have thought something little like that would unnerve him? She asked herself. Once she would have been mortified, but now the only thing that made her feel embarrassed was the fact that he knew she was female.

She crawled over to him, every limb aching, and looked him over. His wound was still bleeding, but he was warmed up now, and she guessed she only had enough energy to heal the worst of his injuries. She unwound the bandage and checked him over, estimated another week until he could move without the wound reopening. She rinsed out the bandage and put it back on, curling up nearby and falling asleep.

BRITTA! Where have you been? I couldn't feel you at all before, I thought you were dead. Came a voice, shattering the comfortable blackness.

Sorry, it's a long story, I think I went into the spirit world. Diana, we had to face our fears to get out-

We?

Me and Micah, The Voice told me I had to bring his spirit back.

Oh, well are you okay?

I think so, I was sleeping but now...

We'll talk later then.

Britta drifted back off to sleep.

When she woke up, she still felt tired, and knew that was the side effect of using The Voice. She rolled over, realising it was midday. Rubbing her head, she told herself she had been sleeping long enough. Standing up, she saw Micah, still asleep.

Britta could feel Diana's presence once again, and she was beyond relieved, but too exhausted to talk.

She set up camp in a shallow cave, gathering wood and setting up a fire. Britta pulled Micah inside, and went to find something to eat. At the river bank, she gathered reeds and made three fish traps, putting them each in a different area of the river. She found small wild potatoes and other greens, before going back to the cave and cooking them, speared on a stick.

Banking the fire, she made sure it was safe to leave burning before letting herself fall asleep again.

When she woke up she was feeling much better, the food she had eaten before had given her strength and she sat up. She could tell by Micahs breathing he would wake soon, and left to check the fish traps before he could. She also gathered herbs to prevent infection in Micahs injury. There was a fish in one of the traps, so she took it, and left the trap in the same place, moving the other two. She also gathered rocks so she could set up a place to cook the fish.

Back at camp, Micah was awake. He averted his eyes from her and Britta snorted.

"Seriously?" She asked. Then she sighed. She realized she should try get along with him so she spoke in a calmer tone. "Look, with that wound you'll be stuck here for at least a week before we can move so you need to treat me as you treat Bren."

"Order you around from dawn till dusk?" Micah asked.

Britta sighed. "My point was that I'm the same person I've always been." She said. "And if you don't like that then you'll have to save it until we aren't stuck together."

Micah looked up at her from his place on the ground; one of the few times she was above him. "Why were you dressed as a boy?" He asked, frown on his mouth. Britta supposed he disliked asking for information of any kind and he probably saw asking a girl as being even worse.

"It's a long story." She said, gutting the fish to ready it for cooking and avoiding his gaze.

"We're stuck together." He said. Britta found his expression amusing; he looked as though he'd just delivered news of someone's death.

Britta thought of how honest she'd been with Thom, and wondered if she should tell him the same story. Her training master deserved the truth, as the Fox had, yet she hadn't told him everything. She was so confused, because on one hand, he was someone she trusted, but if she wanted to see her sister again and wanted a good fate for the man she now knew was her father, she would have to fight against him.

"It's what happens when we get back that I worry about." She said as she poked the fire, half-hoping the crackling of the glowing embers would drown out her voice.

"And why is that? You worked with us before." He said, hearing her perfectly.

"And now I understand what's going on. I am loyal to my sister's and my Father, though he doesn't know it yet." It felt good to say Mable was her sister, and her family.

"What did you train for?" He asked, trying to sit up.

"You never told us Micah, so how did you ever think you could get us to fight?" Britta did not move to help him up.

"There are things that can be said which change everything."

Britta shrugged, turning the fish around. "There will always be people in the Empire that want change; the lowest of the low. Your man made a dangerous assumption when he took us in. My Mistress taught me to love the Emperor for all he'd done, I won't sway now."

"Stubborn." He said. The strange closeness that had been between them in the land of the dead had seemingly evaporated. Now Britta fought not to see him as superior, or worse, as a good person.

"You never really talk." Said Britta. "Not about what's really happening or even about you. You're so scared of your past, Micah, I don't think it's a past we should drag into the present and blanket the whole empire with."

"Do you remember everything that happened when we were in the land of the dead?"

Britta gave him a long, searching look, before finally nodding. Then she stood up and left.

The tension when she spoke with Micah was unbearable, but she didn't know why. As she sat by the river bank, tossing in the grey, water-smoothed pebbles she wondered if telling him why she had been masquerading as a boy for over a year and learning to fight but she realized she didn't really know herself. At the time she'd only wanted money, but although she earned it quicker in the training camp such a dangerous job would have been better to pass up. Britta realized that so far she'd changed a lot, and perhaps the change was what she'd been after the whole time. It sounded a petty reason, however, and too personal to tell Micah although she already felt she trusted him far too much.

Diana? She called.

You're awake.

You knew that.

I didn't want to interrupt.

Diana, do you remember how we used to use a sling to catch things?

Of course.

We used a strip of leather with a pouch for a stone, and then swung it around our heads right?

I think so.

Good, I'm going to make one so I can catch food.

Britta used some leather from the bottoms of her trousers and experimentally swung the sling around. She practiced until she could hit the target she had picked out, and then went back to the cave. The light inside was dim as the fire had gone down. She saw Micah rubbing out what looked like a drawing in the dirt when he saw her entrance.

Britta's thoughts flew to her drawing book hidden in Thunders saddle bag, and imagined finally drawing a complete sketch of her mother. She knew the woman in the spirit world hadn't really been her mother, but Britta thought she could alter the unsettling expression her face had held. She tucked the sling away, and began heating the herbs from the previous night. She made them into a poultice to put on Micahs chest.

"I'll wash the bandaging as well." She said, as always trying to keep things clean.

Micah stiffened as she gently unwound the bandage. The wound had swollen, and the surrounding skin was red. Britta was worried infection could set in. She left it unwrapped without the herbs while she ran to the river and scrubbed the bandage clean. She returned back and washed the wound with it, then running back and cleaning the bandage again. She flapped it in the wind and hung it out to dry in the sun as she went back inside.

She had mixed the herbs on a clean rock where there was a slight depression in the middle which kept the liquid from escaping. Checking it wasn't too hot, she smoothed it over the wound. By the way Micahs face contorted, she realised it had probably stung.

"Sorry, but it looks on the verge of infection, and if that happened you'd be stuck here for weeks until it heals." She said with a wry smile. "After I've made sure the wounds clean I'll try something with it to speed up the process – I doubt you want to be here with me for very long." She said lightly, although she half dreaded his answer.

"It's fine." He said, gathering a fistful of the caves floor as the poultice took effect.

Britta touched his forehead, glad to find him devoid of fever, then re-bandaged his wound. For the rest of the day she gathered bedding and made regular trips down to the river to check the fish trap. As the sun began to set, she made her way down to the river again, and this time scrubbed herself and what little clothing she had left. The wind had picked up, and it was enough to dry everything so she could return back clean, and only slightly damp. She helped Micah onto the softer bed, and sat on her own, which she had found space for away from his although the cave was small and cramped. Micah had kept the fish cooking while she had been practicing with the sling, so they ate that, before going to sleep.

Britta ran the next morning, before bathing in the river and checking the traps. She was in a better mood than she had been the day before and only came back to the cave near nightfall.

"Hello Micah." She said brightly.

He had propped himself up on his elbows, but Britta helped him into a sitting position as well.

"Someone's in a good mood." He rasped.

"I had a good sleep." Britta said. Though she remembered the Spirit world clearly, using The Voice had kept her tired enough that by the end of the day she fell straight to sleep. "How are you feeling?" She asked, mainly referring to his chest.

"It's painful." He admitted.

Britta frowned, "I'll go find something to put on it." She said.

She found some elderberry as well, and something to dull the pain. Afterwards, she practiced some more with the sling.

When she got back, she cooked up some more fish.

"How are you catching them?" Micah asked.

"With fish traps; we used to make them all the time back at the abbey." Britta realised what she just said. "We um.... there was an abbey and we-" She couldn't think of any excuses, and she was annoyed at herself, she had gotten too comfortable around him in only two days.

"I didn't mean to pry, it just seems like a very successful method of fishing."

Britta nodded in agreement. It seemed he was going between treating her as a lady, a trainee and someone that she couldn't quite put her finger on. "The boys would go hunting, but they weren't always successful, and when they were, most of the meat was taken away." She said, trying to work out how he thought of her when he spoke as he was currently.

"Why?" He asked.

Britta thought of Mistress Core and frowned. "There was, and still is, little regard for the lower classes."

"Who was your mother?" Micah asked.

Britta froze, knowing she couldn't tell him the truth until she knew which side he was on. "We were in an abbey, she could be anyone." She whispered.

"Of course."

"What about your parents? Were they the ones in the cottage?" She asked.

"Unfortunately."

"Oh." She said. "At least you knew who they were and got to make the decision not to know them."

"I haven't made that decision." Micah said. She heard him draw in a shaky breath, "my father, he's the Night Falcon."

Britta froze, remembering the eyes of the man there – ice blue – she hadn't had time to think. And there was something familiar about him. She could see Micah's sharp features in his face, but there was something else. She thought of his disregard for the child, and his voice – so completely strained of emotions. Micah tried to talk like that sometimes, but there was always something there. There was only one person who spoke like that. The Night Falcon, she mulled his name over in his head. A nameless man. A strange man, or, as she'd known him, The Strange Man. She shrunk back, eyeing Micah fearfully.

"Why?" She asked, not sure of her question, only that she wanted him to answer her in the self-assured way she was most used to, although when he replied she begun to wonder if she was not better acquainted with the way he spoke to her familiarly now.

Micah shut his eyes. "It doesn't matter." Then he refused to talk any more.

Britta left to sit outside and gave her sister an explanation of where they were and told her how long she thought it would be until they could move. She left out the times she interacted with Micah. She knew her sister didn't like her keeping him alive. She also kept quiet about The Night Falcon as she listed to her sister's voice.

They've taken me to an inn, and given me money for keeping Mable safe. I'm waiting for you. Diana said.

Thank you. How are the animals?

Faithful is pacing around in circles, Thunder seems fine and Quicksilver's just flying around.

Oh. Tell Faithful I'm okay.

I can't use The Voice with him, he's different.

He can understand human talk perfectly fine.

Right, okay. I'll talk to you later, someone's coming in.

Laying down on her side of the cave, she shut her eyes, and fell asleep.

Britta woke in the middle of the night, to Micah, who was muttering in his sleep. She put some more wood on the fire and went over to wake him up. As she touched him, she realised he had a fever. There was fear-sweat on his forehead and his brows were drawn together tightly. Britta watched his fist clench as he rolled over. Although she felt it was a private moment and knew he wouldn't want her to see him as scared as whatever dream or nightmare she was having left him, she grasped his hand and gently stroked the side of his face. It was the kind of thing Diana used to do for her whenever she had the dream she couldn't remember. It seemed to work a little and Britta spent the rest of the night placing a wet leaf on forehead when he was too hot, and moving him closer to the fire when he began to shiver. By dawn she was exhausted, and lay down beside him, quickly falling asleep.

***

A warm glow filled her up as she looked up into her mothers eyes. This was not the spirit landscape; the expression in them was gentle and loving.

"Tell your sister I love her." Her mother said. "And always remember I love you too."

"What about Father?" Britta asked, and in the dream, the word rolled off her tongue so easily.

Celestial gestured down at herself, and Britta realised that there was a cuff on one of her legs, with a chain stretching out into the distance.

"He wants me back too much, Britta, his love has changed and his longing for me leaves me chained. You must make him let go of me."

"I don't think I can – he doesn't even know I'm his daughter."

"He will recognize you, and when he does, remind him that chains do not hold us together, but threads do. The little things, millions of them. If he holds my memories with Threads rather than chains, slowly they will draw him to me, and until then, I will be free of the chains."

"Threads not chains." Britta repeated vaguely, drinking the sight of her mother in.

"And there is one more thing. Know that I am one of the same people as the Night Falcon. Your Father brought me back from over the mountains. But he took me away from my Tribe. Things were different there. I was engaged to someone else, someone I didn't like at all. He was older than me, but my marriage to him would bring him status, had it ever taken place. When your father took me away, the man was angry. He may have loved me, but I always thought what he felt was more possessive. Like I was a trophy, and when I left, he looked like a fool. He wanted revenge, Britta, he wanted to get back at us, so he waited for the right moment, and crossed the mountains. From there, he attacked us, taking the name of the Night Falcon." She touched the scar by Britta's eye, and smiled sadly. "I will love you no matter whose side you take, but remember that Britta. Remember whatever his motives are, one of them is revenge, and he will never spare the Emperor, and if he finds out you are his children? He won't spare you either."

Britta's eyes widened at her new revelation. "I will remember mother." She said, tilting her chin upwards.

"And tell your father that he should go where the memories take him."

"I will." She promised.

Celestial kissed her forehead and Britta awoke.

***

She opened her eyes, meeting Micahs, which were right beside her. Britta yelped and wriggled backwards.

"That was an interesting wake up call." She said, realising she must have fallen asleep beside him. "You have a fever," she said, feeling his forehead with the palm of her hand, "or you did."

Micah shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

"I'm sorry about what I said last night." Britta said, before reconsidering, "I'm not sorry because I found something out, but I'm sorry that I annoyed you."

"What exactly did you find out?" He asked.

"He expects you to help and be on his side, right?" She asked, deciding for now that she would leave out the bit about her fear of The Strange Man, "but I know it's not so simple; how he killed your sister. And I know I should be more subtle about it all because obviously they aren't things you like hearing about..." She paused, "I've always been someone to say what I think."

"I can tell." He said, a small smirk finding its way to his mouth. There was a long silence2"He killed my sister because she saw him talking to someone from another tribe." Micah shut his eyes tight, as Britta tried to think of what to say. She was not good with people, so she simply asked another question, her sympathy visible in her eyes and the soft touch of her hand on his.

"There's something's keeping you working for him, isn't there?" She asked.

Micah clenched his jaw. "You are far too perceptive." He told her after a few seconds.

Britta shrugged, guessing he needed time. "I'm going to the river to wash, I'll wash your shirt too."

She helped him take off his shirt and brought it down to the river, scrubbing it and her things as well. She found soap root not far up stream, and washed her hair, tying it back up as usual. She did a pattern dance as the clothes dried and then brought them back up and gave Micah his shirt.

She had stayed in the shallows of the river so far. At the training camp the shallows where she stood now were about as deep as it got. As it became midday, she returned to the river, deciding to swim farther out. Constantly reminding herself that nothing was going to happen to her, she swum a little way out and back, before getting out.

"I think you should stop working for your father." She told Micah firmly when she returned. She'd decided to ignore subtlety and go straight for it. Her hair was still dripping from her swim, and because the water had straightened it, it hung down past her shoulder blades. She wrung it out as she waited for a reply

"Drop it Britta." Micah said.

"I haven't asked you before." She pointed out, "and my opinion here really does matter."

"You don't know what either side is fighting for." He said. Britta wondered why he didn't counteract the fact that her opinion mattered.

"Then tell me." She challenged him. Micah hesitated. "You aren't giving me a chance to make a proper decision."

"It's easy for you, you have people you are loyal to, people you love who are all on one side."

"Not all of them, and there's always a choice."

"I have no one on the side of the Emperor, only my family on the other."

"But are you loyal to them?" Britta asked.

"I'm loyal to no one, I work with my Father because he's my family."

"Sounds like loyalty to me." Britta muttered, before her dream from the previous night came to her, "you aren't attached to him by chains, you are only connected to him by threads, and threads are delicate."

"It's not that simple."

Britta shrugged. "Things never are when you're the one involved in them. You're overthinking it – I do that. There are two sides. The Night Falcon isn't focusing on getting the empire, he just wants to kill its ruler. The Emperor would keep things running how they are, perhaps change them if certain laws were brought to his attention."

Micah looked sceptical. Britta had never expected to be lecturing her training master as she was now, but he'd almost ceased to be such a thing any way.

"About what you said about having nobody on this side?" She said, a little timid, "you have me."

Micah ran his hand through his hair, the action threading butterflies into Britta's stomach. She wasn't sure what she was nervous for, or even if it was a nervous feeling. "Fine. I'll help you." Said Micah.

Britta was unsure what the look on his face meant. She smiled, almost hugging him in delight, before reminding herself that really wasn't a good idea. She sat back on her heels, instead checking his wound, noticing nothing had gotten worse. Micah jumped at the close contact.

"I'm not contagious." She said.

"No, it's just..." He stopped and said nothing more as she helped him back into his shirt.

"Tomorrow I'll help you go down to the river." She decided to ignore whatever he'd been about to say. "Then you can wash and we can see how well you're healing."

"I'm fine."

"And you smell like buttercups and daisies." She said sarcastically. "I have to get a message to my sister." She said, stepping outside. Best to let him assume she was sending a bird for now.

Diana. She called.

Yes?

Micahs helping us.

How do you know that for sure?

I trust him, we'll be fine.

I see. Her sister said sceptically. How long until you're back?

I'm not sure how far away we are from everything, but we can start moving in another few days.

Ok, try come up with a plan then, I'll keep an eye out for anything strange. Try calling Thunder too.

You're the only one I can reach from this far, I'll keep searching as we get closer.

See you soon.

Britta stood up.

"I'm going to find something for us to eat." She announced, assuming Micah could hear her from inside.

The forest was reasonably quiet at this time of night as she crept through it. She found a hollow log and checked inside for rabbits. Instead, there was a nest of white eggs. "Huh." She looked around again for anything nearby, but she couldn't see anything, so they must be belonged to something that didn't incubate its eggs. She felt the rubbery shells and knew they belonged to a reptile.

There were at least twenty eggs there, so Britta picked one up and held it up to the light. She could see a shape moving inside. She went to put it back, as she heard something pattering up behind her. It was a racoon, and she knew it would probably eat the snake eggs.

She shooed it away, and as it disappeared, a snake slithered out from behind her. She stepped away, before she realised it was a grass snake. Large though it was, it wasn't venomous.

Sorry about that. Britta said.

It is fine, racoon would have eaten my brood.

Britta nodded and placed the egg back in the nest.

They look very close to hatching, you have done well.

Take one.

What?

I have so many, you look after one.

Thank you. Would you like me to bring you some meat? It will be fish, since I don't think I'll end up catching a rabbit now.

Is fine, I am good hunter. Britta was glad the snake wasn't easily offended.

She moved so she could slither into the nest, and took one of her eggs. She brought it back to Micah as it was beginning to hatch. He was still in a sitting position, looking bored and gazing at the cave wall. Britta decided he might need some company.

"Hold this." She said.

"What is it?" He asked.

"A snake egg, their mother gave it to me."

"How did she 'give it' to you?"

"Long story." Said Britta, even though it wasn't and he knew because she'd only been outside for a few minutes.

Micah didn't question her and held out his hand.

"I still need to get food." Britta said, leaving again. She checked the fish traps again and got out what they had caught. When she had arrived back, Micah was holding what had hatched from the egg, the shell discarded on the floor.

"I forgot to ask you what type of snake this was from." He said, a little nervous although the snake was curled up with it's eyes closed.

"Just a grass snake, don't worry. It's already imprinted on you, you're its mother now."

"Great." Muttered Micah, looking closer at the snake.

"Surely you can look after something so similar to your own kin?" Said Britta.

"What does it eat then?" He asked, choosing to ignore her jibe. It wasn't that Britta was trying to make him angry, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to insult someone she feared.

"Frogs and toads, and a range of small mammals and birds. I guess it could eat fish as well."

"Oh." They both looked at the little snake, curled up in Micha's hands. It opened one eye and she reeled back at the ice-blue shade. She thought back to Faithful and Lucky and wondered if this snake was going to be Micahs guardian. She did think it was his kind of animal, especially since the mother had been so independent, and couldn't wait to see Micah's face if it spoke to him.

"I'm naming it Aviary."

"Why?"

"My sister." He said simply. Maybe he was finally starting to trust Britta with this information. Just a little bit.

***

Frick it's so cheesy I want to stab someoneeeeeeee

^^^

Not violent... Just really bad at writing romance