Disclaimer: as much as I wish I was I am not some child genius who can write 3 (soon to be 4) big long books that are utterly, completely awesome. So sorry i do not own any part of pellinor.

Short drabble (even though its not really exactly 100 words but whatever) thing that I just randomly felt like writing. (wow i cant believe I just said that, "felt like writing" I think I'm going insane) Hem's POV after the war with sharma. PLEASE REVIEW

I should have seen the signs; seen the way they looked at each other. Always sneaking off when they thought no one was looking; looking into each others eyes as if they were the only people in the world. And they just as well could be, considering how much they noticed other people. You'd never find one without the other. But no one else seemed to care; everyone just turned their backs: 'Oh they're in love'; 'Oh how cute'; 'Oh what a sweet couple'. It was like no one even noticed how perverted it was. I mean it wasn't like I was jealous or anything, it was just disgusting. He was, what, like, 50 years older than her? Oh, sure, he doesn't look a day older than 30...30?! Like that's any better! She's only 16! He's old enough to be her granddad!

I'd expected to come back after all the separation and war and we'd be laughing, brother and sis having a good time. That was how it used to be, for the brief time I'd known her before they'd left. But no, why should I think that? 'Oh naive little Hem' they'd say and, wonder why on earth I should expect to come home now that it was all over, and have my sister back. Sure in the beginning she'd noticed me, wrapped me in a tight embrace, tears of joy clinging to our faces. But even then he'd been there, standing in the shadows, always there. I'd never had a moment to talk with her alone. To talk about private things; things brothers and sisters can share, not with him around. I'm probably just some pesky little nuisance brother always getting in the way now. I doubt she'd even notice if I ran away!

What if I ran away? Would she finally be forced to see me? Would she finally be torn away from his gaze, would her thoughts be on me again, her poor, neglected brother? Maybe she'd search for me herself: ride out calling my name with tears streaming down her face, shouting apologies to the wind. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll leave tomorrow and I'll not come back unless they find me, until she begs for forgiveness.