Breanne's body, cramped and furled within the scratchy burlap, swung through the air and slammed against a hard muscled back. The gag in her mouth swallowed the grunt escaping her at the impact.

When she screamed with all the force in her lungs, the sound barely escaped...muffled and faint. She began to kick frantically, twisting and writhing her hips and shoulders, jerking her bound arms – anything she could do to break free from the sack; then she felt the sharp prick of the knife's point, hung up as it was within the folds of her gown, stabbing into her swollen belly. Instantly, she stilled, her tear streaked face frozen in a combination of fear and hope.

She'd found the knife! Rather, it had found her...yet with every step that jostled her as the intruder descended the stairs, with every move, the knife's sharp tip became even more painful as it dug into her rotund abdomen. Delirious laughter bubbled up within her, only to give way to anguished sobs. She'd snatched the knife to protect herself...and now...now she might very well die from it...at any moment it could kill both her and her babe.

Her eyes squeezed shut as sobs consumed her, stifled only by the cotton cloth stuffed into her mouth and tied around the back of her head.

In that moment, the air changed, seeping through the sackcloth. Breanne's eyes opened, and she tried to get a sense of where she was. She could feel the wind cooling her tears and see tiny pieces of moonlight streaming through each individual hole of the sack. Her eyes darted around, endeavoring to peer outside – to glimpse her surroundings.

Whoever had her – it was but one person – and they moved fast.

She barely registered the gentle sound of a horse neighing – closed her eyes and said a quick prayer when she felt her body flying through the air again. This was it. if she landed on the knife she was dead.

Another grunt escaped her as her side slammed against the horse's smooth and sturdy flank. Heart pounding, her eyes popped open again– she felt the horse shift a bit as the rider silently mounted – felt smooth, cool, serrated silver at her feet.

Her shoulders fell in relief that the knife had dislodged from her gown to fall to the bottom of the sack – yet as the rider began galloping, it bounced within it, painfully scraping her ankles, her calves, and her feet.

As distance grew between the MacIntosh settlement and herself, fear crashed into her like a breaking wave upon a cliffside; there would be no one to save her -- no rescuer. For all her talk of not leaving this world easily...she was going to die easily...helplessly.

Her bound arms could not wrap themselves around her unborn babe. Her gagged mouth could not scream or wail even in its utter desolation. She was simply going to die. Trickling tears and the wretchedness through her very core were manifest to herself alone.

She had failed. As she had always failed.

She'd failed herself.

She'd failed her babe.

She'd failed Adam......... No.

Breanne's eyes opened again, swollen from tears, her cheeks stiff from the salt of them.

No.

She had promised herself she wouldn't fail Adam again. She couldn't.

She wouldn't.

She had snatched that knife for a reason, and though that reason was carrying her off into the distant unknown, she would not die without a fight. If he wished to do her in, she would not make the task an easy one.

As the horse continued to gallop, Breanne clumsily grappled to catch the knife in her fingers when it bounded upward within the sack. If she could catch hold of it, and slide it through the bindings, she might be able to cut herself free.

Breanne inwardly grimaced at the thought of stabbing anyone, even her captor...but she would do what was necessary to get away.

Even as the horse's steps slowed to a trot, Breanne's fingers strained, reaching toward the bottom of the sack, so as to get a hold of the knife. Her efforts were thwarted when the horse came to a halt. In silence, her captor dismounted, and she stiffened, feeling the warmth of his body press against her own while loosening the rope binding the sack to the horse.

An involuntary whimper escaped Breanne once the slack was loosened; the unknown man grunted as he hefted her up, carrying her away from the horse.

Where was he taking her? He hadn't yet revealed himself...but would he? And would that be when he'd try to kill her?

A louder grunt from her captor, and Breanne felt herself absolutely weightless -- her eyes widened, a stifled, hoarse scream flew through the air as she did...hardly seeming as if it came from her own lungs.

She heard only a light, whispered chuckle before her body splashed into cold, moving water. Momentary shock rendered Breanne immobile, then, coming to her senses, she quickly gasped her last gulp of air as moonlight and earth gave way to the frigid, gloomy depths of the current sweeping her away.

Frantically, Breanne's fingers searched for the knife; she strategically jerked her arms and feet about in hopes that the knife would bounce from the sack and drift through the water into her grasp.

When her hands brushed the blade, twitched and swished and closed around the handle, hope and relief bloomed within her. She struggled not to panic as her chest and lungs began to burn, and her heart hammered, the sound loud to her ears. Moving as quickly and surely as was within her jangled faculties, she turned the handle, holding the flat of the blade between her fingers, turned it still further and inched it between her wrists and their binding, working it with all the leverage, swiftness and force she could muster.

The rope, though not completely cut through, suddenly slackened. Feeling this, Breanne, jerked her wrists apart, then yanked the rope from her. A muffled sound of panic echoed in her ears as she tried, again, to find the knife she'd dropped in her haste to break free. With loosed hands, she found it quickly, loosed her feet, then tore into the sack, leaving a crude, jagged line. Once the hole was big enough, Breanne ripped through, rending the burlap and emerging from her contemptible cocoon. She'd done it!

Struggling, Breanne's arms and legs, numb though they were, moved with renewed vigor. Up and up she went, slowly but surely until...

Air.

Breanne gasped again, choking, hacking her way to the ability to breathe freely! Leaning back, exhausted, she found, to her relief, that the roundness of her belly made her buoyant...and breathing was all she could do for some minutes. It took concerted strength of will to remain conscious. She could not drown now. Dwindling strength renewed some slight measure from the all-too-brief respite; she blinked at the water which blurred her vision, and located the river's edge, much further than she would wish...yet, still within sight...within hope. With all of her might, she strove to reach that shore, and once she'd felt mud squishing beneath her toes, tears intermingled with the water droplets upon her cheeks. The muscles in her legs and arms, now depleted of the adrenaline that had earlier given her energy, trembled under her weight, and she crawled upon the bank, her fingers clawing into the mud, her soiled, drenched white nightgown snagging upon the brush which lay scattered across the shoreline.

Spent, Breanne's knees gave out; she lay upon the earth partially on her side, her cheek against the mud, eyes wide open as she heaved more air – her hands grasping fistfuls of soil.

"Thank you," she weakly whispered.

A fresh breeze stirred the air, causing her to tremble upon the ground.

Splash.

In a flash, Breanne flipped over and sat upright, her heart picking up speed as she peered at the moonlit river. Her eyes fell upon something moving within it – eyes. Reflective eyes fixed upon her, the creature's body moved fluidly within the water, swimming zig-zag. Its long tail waved within the water, pushing it closer to her. Quickly, Breanne struggled to rise, and though her calf muscles faltered, jellylike beneath her, she forcibly flexed them, and pushed herself from the shore.

Whatever creature was in the water – she did not wish to meet it.

....

Nowhere else to go, once she had availed herself of a few more stolen moments of rejuvenation, Breanne made her way back to the MacIntosh settlement. She stuck close to any sort of foliage she could find whenever possible, and the whole of the way, she'd stop and listen, skittish, whenever she heard the slightest sound.

It was a long trek back; the pads of her feet, subjected to rubble and the occasional sharp rock, were now tender, and at the end of it all, she winced simply from her own weight, when she stepped upon the cool, fine dirt.

Her feet stilled; the moon shone directly upon her, the wind lifting the damp, mud-streaked nightgown from her body, bringing goosebumps to her arms and legs. Breanne huddled into her arms as she stared, with a healthy measure of fear, at the road leading to the main MacIntosh estate.

She couldn't go back there.

What was she to do, return to the very room from which she was taken? She shivered violently, this time not from the unyielding elements.

There was no mistaking anything anymore. She was not delusional. Nor was she going mad. Someone was trying to kill her.

But who?

She'd come so close to dying...so very close to giving up entirely...she could very well be at the bottom of the riverbed by now, had she not earlier snatched the knife. Absently, her hands ran up and down her arms, a paltry effort to stimulate heat.

She couldn't be outside any longer. Already, she felt sharpness within her throat every time she swallowed, and had bent double, or as close to it as her condition would allow, in a coughing fit several times as she tried to make her way back. No doubt, the river was leaving her with a parting gift.

She had survived this night. She would not be struck down by consumption!

Breanne turned from the path to the MacIntosh house, settling instead upon the route to her own – to the place Torrington left her. That is where she would go.

Once she arrived, she gazed upon her partially rebuilt home. All was quiet. Her footsteps were silent as she trod softly up the front stairs, and her eyes fell upon the outside posts. She hadn't returned to the property much since the fire – not only were the memories still fresh and frightening for her, but she also hadn't wished to see any accusatory glances thrown her way. So, she'd stayed away.

Stepping closer to one of the posts, Breanne hesitantly lifted a trembling hand, running it along the surface of the wood. The exterior of the place was looking significantly different than it had before the fire.

Reese.

He wasn't simply repairing the home, he was enhancing upon it, embellishing its architecture. Her cold, wrinkled fingertips trailed down the carved swirl, then she allowed her hand to fall at her side and glanced at the other posts, noticing they carried identical designs.

She couldn't help but become suspicious as to why Reese had left his signature carving on property that was to be hers. Property that was left to her by her late husband – she wouldn't have changed a thing about it. Was he so obsessed with this place that he felt he had to put his own mark upon it?

Breanne's lips parted; she stepped away from the post. At one time, she'd thought his work quite beautiful. But now...now she questioned the motive behind everything he did, every change...every line. Rubbing her arms again, Breanne approached the door, pushing it open easily, and quickly closed it behind her.

She could see from the main hall that the upstairs portion of the house, where her bedroom had been, was still in the process of being repaired, as were the stairs leading there. Breanne continued through the dark house, not bothering to light a lamp – the moon, still full and bright, gave her enough illumination; and the last thing she wanted to do was alert anyone to her presence in the house. She had too many thoughts to sort through...and untangle.

Breanne moved through the house aimlessly – finally choosing one of the downstairs bedrooms to settle in. Standing in the middle of the small room, Breanne stared at the bed, at the coverlets atop it, and only briefly entertained thoughts of cuddling up inside it before immediately discarding the idea. Instead, she pulled a smaller coverlet that was draped before the metal posts at the foot of the bed off, and whirling it about her shoulders, hunkered down onto the floor, crawling underneath.

There, she curled up atop the cool, narrow wooden planks, trembled violently, and cried.

....

"Breanne! Are ye here?"

Her leg involuntarily jerked out from her nightgown, her eyes popping open. From her position under the bed, she saw that it was mid-morning, though knew for a fact that she hadn't slept much of the night. Every creak heard throughout the house, every sound outside it had her heart racing, and her body protectively curling up beneath the bedstead. But, at some point, she had fallen asleep...

Even now, sunlight brightened, and no doubt warmed the floors within the bedroom, except for where she lay in shadow.

"Brea?"

"Breanne?"

She swallowed, lifted her head a fraction, instantly recognizing Alla and Brandon's worried voices – though she had to admit, grudgingly that the first voice had the same edge of harried concern. Yet, she stayed where she was, and scrunched her legs up more so, hidden, she hoped, from plain sight. Remaining silent, she listened as Reese, Alla, and Brandon made their way through the rooms of the house.

"Has anyone checked the stables?" Brandon inquired.

Again. "MacIntosh, is anyone at the stables? Has anyone gone to Magnus and Alva's home to verify that—"

More footsteps stomped loudly upon the floors, drowning Brandon's question.

"Reese! Damn it!"

"I'm busy!" Reese roared. "I dinnae hae time tae answer yer petty questions when I'm tryin' tae find me wife!"

"Keep your head about you!" Brandon snapped. "If you answer my questions, there will not be a redundancy in the places we've searched, and we'll be more effective!"

"Aye!" Reese bellowed with a fierceness that caused Breanne to flinch. He entered her room, stomping toward the window nearest the head of the bed. "Allister is searchin' the stables – Finlay 'n Colin are wi' Alva and Magnus, Lachlan 'n Nathair are coverin' th' border av th' colony – I've sent me men out everywhere combin' th' houses an' th' outbuildings an' th' woods an' the fields fer her!"

Breanne breathed heavily but with a conscious silence. Her eyes swiveled to the doorway, recognizing both by virtue of shoes and that of simple deduction the new presence in the room.

"We will find her," Alla said, her voice strained, and trembling.

"Ye're certain ye ken naught bout this?"

"I know nothing!" Alla heatedly insisted, making it apparent that it wasn't the first time the question was put to her. "If anyone knows a thing about her whereabouts, I'd say it's you!" she angrily blurted out.

"Why would you say it's him, love, although he is with us looking for her even now?"

"Aye," Reese inserted. "Why me?"

Silence took over the room until Alla finally answered, this time her response more calculated and even. "Be-because you're her husband."

Reese chuckled, the sound humorless and harsh, making Breanne wince again. "Am I, now? I'm certain ye both ken 'n understand th' extent av our relationship. Husband? Nay, I'm nothin' tae her." Reese left the room after making the statement, slamming cabinets and doors, leaving Alla and Brandon to themselves.

Brandon broke the silence, quickly. "I know you've stated that you're unaware as to Breanne's whereabouts...but is there anything going on that I should know about? Why would she leave without notifying us? And how could she without a soul seeing her depart?"

Alla paced the room in silence, and then settled onto the side of the bed.

"Alla?"

"I cannot even..." Alla's words broke off, and Breanne heard silent cries above her –watched in silence as Brandon's shoes approached the side of the bed, embracing her.

Once Alla calmed some, Brandon stood. "I'm going to see if I can catch sight of Reese. I haven't heard him moving about. Will you be all right?"

"Yes," Alla whispered.

"Do not leave this house without informing me...and do not give me that look. I mean what I say. Something doesn't bode well with my instincts on this and until we find her, I'll not be at ease. Therefore, you'll not stray far from my side."

"Very well," Alla quietly responded, and after Brandon left the room, muttered under her breath. "I don't stray; I am not some alley cat."

Seeing the opportunity for what it was, Breanne extended her hand, her cold fingers grasping Alla's right ankle.

A shrill scream rent the air. In a flash, Alla kicked her hand away, and left the bed. Breanne heard something metal clinking against the wooden nightstand, but before Alla could scream again, or clobber her, Breanne loudly whispered, extending her hand out from under the bed, lightly slapping the floor to catch her attention. "Alla! Shh, it's me! Please stop screaming and do not tell anyone I am here!"

"Wha—Breanne!" Alla returned, her own whisper quick and angry. "Have you any idea—"

Footsteps thundered across the floor, stopping only at the entrance – after a beat of silence... "Why in the hell did you scream?"

"Oh...I..."

"Yes?"

"I saw...there's a very large...a large... spider! Do you see? Right there...it startled me."

"Which explains why the paperweight is in your hand," Brandon concluded, dryly. "Do me a favor...unless you're being attacked, refrain from screaming in that manner. Now, come, give it to me," he told her. Breanne watched as their legs drew closer to each other and Alla handed him the item.

"We must focus, Alla. Forget about the spider. Reese is somewhere outside and I suggest we join him."

"Yes...and I shall...just give me a moment, please, Brandon. I need time to think..."

"Very well, but do not dawdle – I will be directly outside if you need me."

"All right," Alla answered, quietly.

Once the front door slammed closed, Alla crouched down low, peering under the bed, her expression one of vast irritation, until her eyes ran down the length of Breanne's soiled nightgown, her mud-crusted feet. Alla's eyes snapped back up to Breanne. "What happened?" she asked, urgently, extending her hand toward Breanne. When Breanne shook her head, puzzlement and worry drew a frown upon Alla's face, and she pulled her arm back.

"I-I wish to stay here until..." Breanne swallowed, uncomfortably. "Could you please retrieve a gown for me, and undergarments?"

Baffled, Alla shook her head. "Of course, but you must tell me what has you so frightened, and why you choose to remain here, under a bed, rather than showing yourself to those who search for you! Everyone is worried, Breanne! You should have seen Reese's face when he told us you'd disappeared – I do believe-"

"I was accosted last night."

"What?" Alla asked, her words a hoarse and ragged whisper.

"I was gagged and bound, tossed into a sack and thrown into a river."

Alla exhaled heavily, her eyes glazing. "W-wha...bu...however did you escape?"

With a self mocking, humorless smile, Breanne replied. "In what I'd thought were delusions, I'd taken a knife from the supping tray, and slept with it. Had it not been for the knife, I daresay—"

"Don't." Alla ordered, shakily. "Don't...you mustn't say....I cannot....Breanne, did you catch a glimpse of their face?"

Breanne shook her head. "I tried, but no...I couldn't see. It was but one person...one man. And he was silent...."

Light chuckles were heard as she was tossed into the water.

"...for the most part," Breanne finished, uneasily.

"Surely, you must see that you need to come from under there! We need to get to the bottom of this! You cannot hide here—"

"I am not ready to appear before anyone looking as I do...and I do not think it wise that it becomes known to all here that attempts have been made upon my life."

"I understand that you're not ready to make an appearance, but would you not feel safer if others were aware of the situation?"

"I do not wish for it to be known that I still live, whilst I am alone. And once I have appeared, if word spread, it may give the murderer an opportunity to flee, or stop completely...and we would never catch him then. Adam's killer could go free. I do not wish for that to happen," Breanne passionately explained.

Alla shook her head. "But we do wish for him to stop completely!"

For the first time, a faint, yet genuine smile eased the stress on Breanne's face. "Yes. We do wish him to cease...but I do not wish him for to be put on alert, Alla. I want him to wonder why I haven't mentioned it to a soul – to slip up and mayhap he'll—"

"You cannot be serious!"

"Whatever do you mean?" Breanne asked, from under the bed.

"You're not planning on telling anyone what happened last night?" Alla inquired, aghast.

"I will! I-I will...only...only not quite yet. Just..." Breanne briefly closed her eyes. "Please, Alla. You mustn't say a thing about this to anyone, not until I am prepared...all right?"

Alla stared into Breanne's pleading eyes, conflict in her own, but finally answered, her words slow and careful. "I will remain silent on this for as long as I can but if I feel, beyond a doubt, that you're in danger, I will reveal everything to Brandon. You cannot have me swear to silence, when doing so could most likely mean your death, Breanne."

Breanne closed her eyes for a second again, then opened them. "Very well. I suppose that shall be as effective as any promise, as long as you feel there is no other option left to you but to divulge what you know, and that remaining silent would lead to my demise...then...well, as I said before, that shall have to do."

"All right," Alla replied, gently, determination set in her features. "Now that we've got that cleared up, I shall retrieve clothing for you, and we will find a suitable explanation for your disappearance."

Breanne nodded, relieved, watched quietly as Alla stood on her feet, quickly leaving the room.

***

The door slammed behind Reese as he followed Breanne into their bedroom. He remained by the door, standing still as a statue before it. His sharp, green eyes boring into her own; he kept silent.

Breanne's blue eyes shifted down to the floor. "I know you must be angry. I am sorry for that. It was not my intention to cause you to become so...so furious with me," she glanced up at him, but found he'd closed his eyes – though directing them to the floor, taking deep breaths. In a quieter voice, she continued, "I only wanted a bit of air...and I thought it would be all right if I—"

"I dinnae wish ye tae sneak off and disappear," he finally stated, his words low and even.

His words prompted Breanne to meet his eyes, and when she did, he stared at her, his expression guarded, before shaking his head, jamming a hand through his disheveled, sun-kissed hair. "Mayhap I'd been tae hard on ye, secludin' ye tae th' house...this room," he admitted, glancing around it, then returned his eyes to hers as he walked deeper into the room. Breanne watched him advance, with a measure of trepidation.

He looked down upon her – and she had to look away. Only when he took her hand in his, did her heart leap, along with her eyes – which snapped back to his own. She noticed the faint beating near his neck – he swallowed uncomfortably. "I dinnae wish ye tae feel prisoner here. I've only done wha' I felt needed tae be done – tae see tae yer safety. I want ye tae feel free to roam this land, but I dinnae wish ye tae leave this place without informin' me. It worries—" he cut his statement, straightened his spine a bit. "I cannae concentrate on me duties when ye leave without a word tae anyone."

His thumb grazed across her knuckles. Though she wore gloves to hide the scratches on her wrists and hands, she could still feel the heat of his touch through the thin material. Breanne's lips parted as she stared down at their joined hands... how his large, callused, tanned hand swallowed her slender one... how his thumb continued to graze her knuckles even as she stared at it.

Reese cleared his throat, and she could feel the reluctance in his stance as he drew his hand away from hers.

"Now," he continued. "Ye dinnae wish tae tell me in front of others where it was ye went tae, but now tha' we're alone, I expect ye to say."

Breanne slowly nodded, her thoughts and emotions now a jumbled mess. "I'd gone to the place... to the place you'd shown me not long after arriving."

Dawning lit Reese's eyes, a slow, reluctant grin tugging at his lips, and he shook his head in derision. "Th' only spot I dinnae think tae look."

Breanne found herself faintly smiling with him – the experience, foreign to her.

"In me defense, I dinnae recall showin' ye th' place in me haste tae find ye."

He hurried to find her? The smile faded from Breanne's face as more conflicting feelings swirled within her, feelings she had no wish to examine – not when he could very well be the person who had endeavored to spirit her off to her death. His words could be nothing more than a calculated effort to keep her off balance...to mask base viciousness behind a veneer of care...even romance.

Breanne retreated a step, briefly glancing down before meeting his eyes again. "I wish to return there tomorrow."

Reese's brows drew together. "One excursion wasnae enough fer ye? T'was a long walk ye went on...and I'd not advise ye to do it again."

"I'd...I'd take a horse," Breanne tried. "Really, it is such a beautiful place, and I would love nothing more than to go back."

That admission was true, at least. She felt she needed to go back there – to stare out at the vast expanse of canyons and sort through her thoughts. There wasn't another place she'd rather be to clear her mind. She certainly didn't feel safe or comfortable passing another night in the room where they presently stood – nor did she feel especially comfortable returning to the partially destroyed house where she'd passed the night under a bed because of the latest attempt on her life.

"I could ask someone to accompany me –perhaps Alla could—"

"Alla's already promised tae accompany Alva on th' morrow at day-daw...tae tend th' ill. Pr'aps ye wud wish tae accompany th' two av them." Reese gave her a long look.

Breanne's eyes sank. Of course she would wish to go with Alva and Alla...but not now. Why would Alla agree to leave her at such a junction?

"Or ye cud take Magnus."

After a moment of contemplation, this Breanne could accept. Magnus, she could trust. Magnus would not allow anything to befall her, and he might even respect her privacy. Her eyes twinkled at the last thought.

"I'll ask Magnus."

Reese nodded, peering at her keenly, an unreadable expression passed across his face. "Wha' is goin' on wi' ye?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Breanne asked, near breathless.

"Ye're nae behavin' as ye usually tend tae. First, wi' ye bein' tight-lipped regardin' yer whereabouts this forenuin, 'n...ye've been actin' skittish-like ever since ye returned tae th' settlement," he informed her, tilting his head.

"Nonsense," Breanne bluffed. "I am not skittish, and I was only reluctant to mention where I was because I did not wish to divulge your secret. Now...as for my intended destination tomorrow..."

Reese lifted a skeptical brow. "Verra well," he responded. "I suppose if Magnus is willin' tae accompany ye."

***

Breanne counted herself fortunate that she'd actually recalled the location of the spot Reese had shown her months ago. It hadn't taken much convincing for Magnus to accompany her, he was happy to leave the settlement, and to have the 'privilege av escorting the MacIntosh's woman' around.'

Even now, Magnus stood behind her, no doubt seeing to the horses before he joined her.

The surprise that had blossomed upon his wizened countenance when they'd crept through the ravine and first emerged, drinking in the expanse made Breanne extremely happy to have invited him along. His eyes sparkled, widened in awe at the magnificence surrounding him; and Breanne found herself equally pleased, both with the natural masterpiece laid out before them, and with Magnus' obvious appreciation.

Breanne's footsteps stopped near the cliff's edge, breath caught in her throat with something like reverence mixed with lightheadedness. The tall, jagged walls of the canyon encased the emerald valley floor...the raging river...all of it so many fathoms downward it was enough to make one quite giddy at the sheer vastness and depth.

A breeze lifted the hem of Breanne's gown. She crossed her arms, inhaling the air deeply. Since her arrival, this was the one place in which she'd truly been at peace. Such a moment...such wond'rous beauty...she could not but wish Adam were beside her...that she could ask him what he thought of it all. She longed to share this very breath with him.

She closed her eyes. In her mind, she could see his smiling face, his eyes, tenderly gazing down at her, his arms encircling her...supporting her. She missed him...how dearly she missed him, and knew for a fact that she always would. Adam would always hold a precious place in her heart; and though she was unmovably determined to unravel the circumstances leading him to his death, she had to do the one thing she'd put off ever since he passed...she had to let him go, say goodbye.

She'd made up her mind. When Alla and Brandon returned home, she would be on the ship with them. No longer would she place herself, nor her child in danger. Regardless of Adam's reasons for willing the property to her, he surely wouldn't have wanted her to remain where her life and that of his child would be at risk.

Tears descended over her flushed cheeks. Her lips pursed tightly, and she squeezed her eyes for a full minute, before the tension held within them released, and a tranquility washed over her face.

"I love you," she began, and then paused a full minute, allowing the peaceful ambiance more time to settle her nerves before continuing. "I always will. I promise you I'll take care of our child. Thank you for coming into my life, for showing me what love truly is, a love I shall never know again. I'll forever be thankful to you for that. You brought light into my life, and into my heart. Not a day will pass when I'll not tell our child about you, about your silly wit, your honor and loyalty, your kindness and sense of justice. Sleep in peace, my love...Goodbye."

A breeze whirled before Breanne, lifting her hair, blowing strands before her face – the wind carried a whispered response:

"Goodbye."

Hands at her back.

A push.

A fall.

A/N: Do not hate me! Lol, and please remember that postings are now coming a bit faster - as I am trying to finish posting the entirety of Cimmerian Sunrise by the 31st! So, expect another post either later today or tomorrow!