NB: I don't own the characters

NB: I don't own the characters…or the quotes…I own noting but 50 bucks and the clothes on my back!

This is Cadvan's POV, see page 247 - The Riddle, for Maerads POV.

Nightly Wonderings

Oft in the tranquil hour of night,
When stars illume the sky,
I gaze upon each orb of light,
And wish that thou wert by.
George Linley

It was freezing near the ice-cold stronghold of Arkan-da, the bite of winter raging in the air, so Cadvan was once more unable to sleep. He huddled up in his blankets, Darsor shivering beside him, and stared up into the star-speckled sky.

The stars were always so beautiful in the North - more so than anywhere else because there were no manmade lights to blot them out. All around Cadvan there was darkness; there was no Light near Arkan-da, it almost felt forbidden.

Lukemoi shines brightly tonight, Darsor said musingly into Cadvan's mind, and he nodded absent-mindedly. The road of the dead...

Let it not be a sign, he added to himself secretly. Let it not be a sign that Maerad is dead.

But he knew that she wasn't. He could feel that she wasn't. Perhaps, he thought to himself hopefully, perhaps even now she is staring up at the same night sky, at the same still stars, thinking of me.

He watched the stars for a while more, then realised that he had never once mentioned them to Maerad. All those nights camping, all that wasted time, all those hours spent sitting by the fire together in the open air, talking or joking or singing, and they had never even spoken of those silver orbs sparkling above. He didn't know what her favourite star was, or if she even had one. Now that she was no longer around to ask anymore, it seemed like a dreadful thing to have omitted.

So much wasted time...

I miss her, Cadvan thought suddenly. I miss her so much. Maerad - He stared wildly up at the gem-filled skies above, as if he could somehow transmit a message through them to wherever Maerad was. Maerad, I miss you. How I miss you. Just you. Just you.

There was no answer, and he felt ashamed at himself for even slightly expecting one. She didn't even know he was alive. She would not have a clue that he was missing her.

No, he thought. Maerad could not hear him. He was alone.

Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle
Everything I do is stitched with its colour.
W.S. Merwin, "Separation"

I feel quite depressed now :(, but hope you enjoyed! If you did, review! I don't cost ya anything and it swells my head just that lil bit more :)