Marley stared at the half-empty bottle with a bleariness that struck deep from her eyes to her heart. What was she doing? What was she doing?

She had spent her entire life playing by the rules, watching her step, and now it was all coming crashing down around her ears in some kind of controlled demolition, and she was bringing down her girls with her. She had never been above sacrificing one of her girls to better herself or the rest of them, but she wasn't about to sacrifice all of them. She wasn't completely morally reprehensible.

Only partly.

But this had always been acceptable. what was happening now, the girls... they were... Shit.

This was beyond stupid on all their parts. The girls were being stupid for being so loyal. If they had any smarts at all, they'd throw her to the dogs and cut their losses. No. She had to have the kind and decent brigade of teeny-boppers loping along in her shadow.

And it wasn't like Lina was old enough or good enough yet to bring them all out of this alright. She was getting close. In another year or two, she'd have her own surgery. But right now? Right now, she was just as screwed as the rest of them. She'd have to settle for marriage to a soldier who'd beat her, knowing that things didn't have to be that way, knowing there was something more outside her reach...

Actually, this was probably why she was standing up with the rest of them, refusing to back down.

And besides, it was calling a bluff. She knew that Agnes held some disturbing view of government as something that needed to be implemented for the people by the people, women included. It was startling. And she would have to watch her mouth from now on.

Marley heard footsteps and looked up with a wobble in her gaze. Her head was swimming from too much booze, but who was she to know when to say 'when' when things were rough?

Lina sat down across the table from her in fluid movements that made Marley stare in confusion. She sat a glass firmly on the table and poured herself a drink.

"I'd water it down if I were you," Marley muttered.

Lina stared at it critically, then tossed it back and nearly choked. "That's vile!" she coughed, pushing the bottle back towards her teacher.

"I told you so." She smiled. "I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't listen." She laughed low and shook her head before resting it on her folded arms, which were propped on the table.

"We have to talk," Lina said curtly.

"Sure. We can talk."

"Agnes has an idea on how to make this work to our advantage. You need to flirt with General Farrow, completely lead him on."

Marley stared openly at her.

"Oh, just agree to it. You're drunk. You won't remember it in the morning."

"Well," Marley laughed. "You're half right. Alright. Tell me why."

Faline woke early. They'd been making their ways back towards the ravine, towards the bridge they'd made. Camphor couldn't remember what he needed over across the ravine to begin with, and he was working much less like a man possessed and much more like a man.

As it was, they were camped by the bridge, and Faline woke to see dawn breaking between the walls of the ravine. The sun shattered the shadow of night from one to many, and she was in the midst of appreciating it when she felt Quetz approach.

"It's very beautiful," she sighed. "Look there, how the trees drop their leaves against one another as their shadows fall on their neighbors. I'm glad we left Suthery, Quetz. I really am."

*You would be,* the dragon conceded. *But it's time to leave.*

"I suppose it must be. We have to keep moving, right?"

*It was your choice to stay with him,* Quetz groused.

"He needs us."

*He needs professional help.*

"He needs friends. I'd feel horrible if he were to walk off a cliff one day out of sheer despair."

*Not that that would do him much good.*

"No," she agreed. "I suppose not." She sighed and tapped the dust off her boots. "Well. Let's go."

They headed back to camp, and she helped Camphor steer the cart onto the bridge. When they crossed to the other side, Faline felt somehow lighter, as if she were finally on a path she was destined for.

Not that she held much truck with fate.

Gleb rolled onto his back in the darkness. His hand was a shadow in shadows, destroying the single shaft of moonlight and breaking it into a thousand myriad pieces.

The silver light glared off into other directions, sparing his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling, let his hand drop, and sighed. He had never had difficulty sleeping. Never in his life. Sleep was always a welcome respite from the struggles of the world, a time of utter and complete darkness, silence, and healing.

Until now.

This made a week of dreams, and a week of dreams was always something to heed. Always.

Were he back with his people, he would see a wise man, a wise woman, a vastly intuitive child, anything for the gods' sake! They would give him the remedies, the advice he needed to fix this problem.

He was not entirely able to divine what the dreams demanded of him, only that he needed action immediately. He needed to leave. He needed to return to the city he had recently left.

And there, it seemed, all would be laid clear to him.

But there were ominous portents in the dream. Wolves of strange design - come to devour him? - stolen horses - always a bad sign in dreams - and a blind man - inobservance leading to his downfall? It was a bad set of symbols for him to dream, and he was certain that they would lead to his demise, but he had to follow them.

A week of dreams was always something to heed. Always.

He rose, and he packed.

He didn't have much. Some changes of clothing, a mirror and a knife, a few baubles given to him by Yvett and her young friends. They would be sanctified and woven into his hair later, when Kal'kurra smiled down on him again and accepted new weavings.

He cut out a braid, long and thin and snakelike, twined with silver bells and a small frog carved from bone. And he gave this to the farmer for Yvett when he came to collect his pay.

Loaded down with apprehension, curiosity, and pockets full of pay, he left at dawn, rucksack over his shoulder, heading back to the city he left as a begger.

He steeled his heart, knowing that this was his role, to go and offer himself up to the gods. A week of dreams was always something to heed.

Always.