"Go 'way, please.  Please.... please, just leave me alone."

	Aleta stood in the doorway.  The beginnings of false dawn were
begining to creep over the ledge of Kyven's apartment, silohetting her
wiry figure against the retreating night.  Beyond, Aethnod's hide was
barely beginning to snatch orange from grey as he nuzzled Melianth's
shadow for comfort.

	"I'll leave if you want me to," Aleta said softly, "but I don't
think you ought to be alone."

	"I'm not suicidal!" Kyven spat, looking daggers at her with
bloodshot eyes. "I'm not going to run to the bathroom and slit my wrists
if you go do something else with your time."

	Aleta stepped into the dim glow of the gas lamp Kyven had lit near
the open liquor cabinet.  She crouched beside him and picked up the
bottle of amber liquid nearby.  She sniffed it in silence.  "You should be
careful drinking this too fast.  You'll give yourself alcohol poisoning."

	"I don't need a Healer!" Kyven exploded.  "I *am* one, remember??"
He threw himself forward as if to lunge to his feet, but failed to achieve
the necessary balance and fell back to the floor.

	"Yes", Aleta answered.  "I won't forget.  I'd just rather you
didn't destroy yourself."  She hesitated, weighing her thoughts with her
courage.  "It won't bring her back."

	"How could she do that?" Kyven cried hoarsely, his voice suddenly
losing its volume.  "And with *him*!  She's got a home and three kids, and
a mate.... she still lives in this apartment, you know... and... and...
how could she with that... disgusting...."  He trailed off, unable to find
a word despicable enough to describe K'wen.

	A year ago, when M'tan's pig-headed brother had been exclaiming
the young dragonrider's vitues from the highest peaks, Aleta had felt
leery toward K'wen.  Now his proximity made her skin feel oily.  She
wished more of the warrenfolk could see how disgusting he was beneath his
charming boyish smile.  

	She hugged her knees to her chest and watched him, close enough to
touch yet not making the attempt.  Hundreds of thoughts raced through her
head, intertwining and fighting for dominance.  She feared that if she
spoke she would be forced to turn her words on herself.  At last, she
asked, "What will you do?"

	"What can I do?" Kyven asked despondently.  "Wait till she
remembers.  Wait till she comes back to us." 

	She took a breath, forcing the words out through the painful
constriction of her chest, "If she doesn't?"

	"How can she not remember?" Kyven choked.  He looked at Aleta with
eyes unfocused.  His words were slurred with alcohol.  "How can she... 
pick him..."  He leaned forward, his shoulders shaking with uncontrollable
sobs.  His next words were almost inaudible.  "...and forget she loves
me?" 

	Aleta leaned forward and awkwardly gathered Kyven into her arms. 
He reeked of the alcohol.  She had no idea how much he had ingested, but
she knew the full effects had not yet hit him.  Her heart ached.  She saw
his face whe he returned from Reetsada's room the day she woke up after
her injuries.  It seemed a millenium ago now now.  She had watched him,
hoping for him, but she could not dare even to compare his despair to hers
as M'tan walked out of their apartment in that autumn a lifetime ago.
There was no way to claim anyone could understand the depths of Kyven's
loss.  She held him close as he sobbed, ran her fingers through his hair,
murmurred comforts in his ear.

	"We were so happy..." he murmurred distantly.

	"Let her find herself," whispered.  "And if she finds herself and
it's not with you, remember you're not alone."

	She heard a sudden sound at the doorway, and looked up to see a
hulking silohette that could be only one man....


Respectfully Submitted,

Susan Rati
Creator, Dragonlands

NRPG: You entrance, Mia :).