Wild wind, won't you blow?
And carry me to my love
Though I know not where ye blow
I'll spread my wings
On your misty back I'll ride
O, wild wind, won't you blow?
-Kate Power

The first time she came to this place was years before.

He had showed her this place, a hard hour's hike over rocky trails, into the hills over the valley where the great Faire swirled and spun. Together they had climbed, he, twice as tall as her, cutting his strides in half so that she could keep up without being winded. Together, up they went, through the autumn gold, to this place high above the color and the sound of the Faire. Below stretched the river, the pavillions, the list fields and forests; up high here the winds blew strong and fierce and free. Up there,
up high, the two of them alone, he told her a story...

He told her of a legend that said that the winds were not simply movements of air. Not mere lifeless events driven by thermodynamic principles and meteorlogical laws, but spirits that roamed and spoke and heard. That if bidden, the winds could carry messages anywhere under the sky --or the worlds beyond. That words whispered to a handful of flowers and released into the wild wind would reach the heart of the intended listener without fail, no matter where in Creation they were. And then, from a pouch he had brought up with them, he and she took each a measure of rose petals and set them free to the skies, he for his Lorraine, she for her Thomas, trusting the winds to carry their love to the Truehearts they had lost beyond the walls of this life and world.

That first time, Chris and Abbie had came to that place as two friends sharing a common grief with each other. The second
time they came also sharing a common love for each other. This third time, it was not with Chris but oldest-companion Erin
Abbie came; for this time, the flowers were not just for Thomas, but for Chris and Aunt Vivienne, too.

Standing in that high, wild place, Abbie took the flowers from the bag Erin held. Cupping them in her hands, Abbie brought the
crimson roses up to her lips. Seven words only she whispered, a single syllable each. And then into the wind she cast the petals,
watching as they were swiftly carried away, out over the Faire, tiny red messengers disappearing into the sky.

They stood together there in silence, embracing as sisters, watching until the last of the rose petals were lost to sight. They
stood there a little bit longer. And then they began the long climb back down.

Perhaps it is because of the lateness of the day. Perhaps it is the warmth of the fire. Perhaps it is the time of the year, when
summer's promise begins it's final, glorious fade to brown and dust, as all things do in time. I am not sure. But from unknown
inspiration these fellows with me ask questions deep and probing, that dwell on sorrow and loss, that touch those things I try to
keep hidden from others. Joy I seek to share; sorrow no one else needs more of, and so that I keep quietly to my own, as my
strength allows. But today it seems that it is loss and grief Miranda and Elena and Celeste and Darren wish to explore; I know
not why. But to these gentle but painful questions I share as best as I can. Master Thorne is last, and unsatisfied with my
answers he seems; but even as he prepares to pursue his thoughts there is a comes a silence.

No, a *silence*, absolute and total and all-engulfing, like if the storm had suddenly become a fall not of water but of
forebooding and doom.

And then all is light.

And then all is dark.

And then all is pain.

Pain / fear / wind / force / worlds / beyond / Tree / Wall / flame / Hell / Heaven / Serpents / pain / Light / Dark / Code / War
/ salvation /destruction / fear / guardianship / responsibility / duty / sacrifice / pain / fear / pain / Fear / FEAR /
FEAR

Fear.

Fear is mine.

All fear is mine.

The fear of a little boy sobbing in a corner as Uncle comes again with the belt. The fear of a pilot trapped admist flame and fire
and a ground that comes up much too quickly and controls that act too slow. The fear of a teenage girl as she puts an envelope
into the mail, handwritten pages daring to expose her heart and love to a boy who might not even care. The fear of a general
holding a short cable from headquarters informing him his men are doomed. Every fear. All fear. From the fear of the child to
the fear of the Noble, from the worries of a peasant farmer in China to the nightmares of the tortured in Lord Entropy's
chambers, fear is mine. All fear. Every fear.

They gather around me. The thousand shades of fear gather at my feet. By ones by twos, by packs, from across all creation they
come. They yip and bark and pant and wag their tails and in their own friendly way say hello. Like hounds the thousand Fears
gather, gather to me, their Huntswoman, their mistress, for that is what I have become --the Domina of Fear. All Fear is mine
now to understand and command and unleash and lead. The merciless packs of the Hounds of Fear, to be led against Creation's
enemies, mortal and immortal alike.

My hounds look to me to lead them in war against traitor and despoiler, in me they see chance anew for long-lost glory. For too
long have they gnawed on the thin and paltry offerings among the innocent and weak. They hunger for the blood of tyrants, the
sweat of dictators, the flesh of Gods. Too long have the strong escaped the reach of Fear as the office's previous guardians
squandered their strength on petty empire-building and foolish posturing. Too long have the injust scoffed at fear. In me my
hounds see hope once again for glory and challenge. To me they gather. My Hounds. My Fears. For one moment I feel their
exhultation, their excitement, for one moment am I filled with the majesty and the potential of my new office --

--and then then returns the pain.

Pain / doubt / fear / Erin? / fire / change / Law / Windflower / Love / Crime / Chestnut / Crowfoot / Entropy / Meon /
Cammora / Flowers / Miracles / Chancel / Warden / Imperator / pain / terror / Excrucians / War / Hope / Death / pain / Pain /
PAIN /

"HEAL ME!"

And all is light.

And all is dark.

And all is pain.

One truth Nabu the Ancient whispered to a blade of grass, and the blade whispered to its brother, and that blade to its
brother, until a whole valley rang with that truth. And Nobles come from across all creation to the Valley of Enir to hear the
words the prophet left behind. Some hear this truth and are enraged. Some hear this truth and know fear. And still others hear
this truth and are given hope. This truth the prophet spoke:
Of one of two kinds all Nobles are: some are Gods that were born as humans. Others are humans given the power of
Gods.

- from PLACES OF TRUTH, by Kieu Han

I do not remember travelling.

I do not remember the world changing around me.

One moment I am in the tent, watching Master Thorne raise the tentflap, and then the next I am aware I am awake.

-- Pain / fear / pain / sorrow / loss / fear --

Stop that. Stop that. Silence the thoughts, push them aside, ram them down, get a grip, do the job. Don't think about Erin. Don't
think about your friends. Don't think about --

-- Windflower / loss / pain / sorrow / worry --

Stop that. Stop that. Silence the thoughts, push them aside. First things first. Arms? Legs? Fingers? Toes? What's broken?
What's bleeding? Nothing? Seems like nothing. Wiggle a toe. Move a hand. Breathe in. Out. We're in one piece. Nothing's
missing. Nothing's broken. We don't seem to be hurt.

Faintly, distantly, I know it is unlikely anything will ever hurt me again. Why do I think that?

Up. Up. Comeon, girl, up and at 'em. Force your way up. Push your way up. Voices. Light. Open your eyes, girl, get on your
feet. Look for danger. Get information. Figure out what's going on. That's Miranda's voice. That's Elena's. See who's hurt. See
who's wounded. Prioritize the threats. Get moving before the next danger hits. Silence the thoughts, push them aside, ram them
down, get a grip, do the job. One priority, one thought, one crisis at a time.

They'll be time to mourn later.

"Miranda? Are you okay?"

- From the Thought Records of Abigail Taylor