Cien couldn't bring himself to go back to the keep. Memories were at the keep. Memories of Regan. Of her smiles, and her laughter and her happiness. Of his happiness with her. Their time together was short, but to Cien, it had been life changing.
Instead he begged a few provisions from Maggie, and after a long lecture, she had given in. He collected them and packed his saddle bags up. "She wouldn't want ye to hide," Maggie reminded him and he grabbed the blacks reigns. He looked at her, nodding once he turned away and into the forest.
As a child, when his father drank too much whiskey and became abusive to himself and his mother, Cien came to the forest and was calmed. He didn't know what it was about the forest that calmed him, but they had. Taking his fear, his anger and his pain away from him. He prayed it would still be the same now that he was a grown man.
What he really wanted to do was head back to the keep and lock himself in his bed chamber with a few bottles of Kevin Foster's best whiskey. Cien almost smacked his lips at the thought and then shook his head. He knew that he couldn't do that.
Regan would have hated it.
And so he walked on. That night he found a comfortable place among the dried leaves and trees, and settled down for the night. After building a fire, he lay propped against a fallen log and watched the flames. He was thinking about her. How her hair shone in the summer sun. How her beautiful blue green eyes would sparkle when she laughed. All the meals they shared together. And her beautiful smile.
He slept restlessly that night, tossing and turning in the dried leaves until he was certain he was never going to get a single minute of sleep that night. Every noise of the forest woke him. His very breathing woke him several times during the night.
He woke in the morning to the sun warming his body and blinding his eyes. For a long minute, he simply stared up at the foliage above him. Pain such as he had never known sliced through him freshly. Would this pain never lessen? Somewhere in his mind, he realized it had only been two days and he was mourning. In his heart, he knew, certain as the sun shone, that it would never lessen. He would live the rest of his days with the pain of loosing the one he held so dear.
He lay on the cold ground unwilling to move. It was comforting in a way. The cold dew against his skin was refreshing, real. He didn't want to move. And he closed his eyes and prayed for death. Mayhap the Lord was in a merciful mood that day and would accommodate him.
"Cien." Opening his eyes he heartily swore. St. George's bones. Now he was hearing her voice in his head? He sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows. Blinking against the light, he looked around the clearing. There was nothing out of the normal, nothing that hadn't been that way the night before.
"Cien." He heard his name again and this time it wasn't in his head, it was behind him. Turning his head lazily he rolled to his feet quickly, his breathing quick.
Regan stood half behind a tree, holding on to it lightly. She was smiling and looked healthy if a bit pale. He took an involuntary step forward, and she shook her head. He tried to speak, but found it more difficult than he had anticipated.
Finally he managed. "Are you real?"
She smiled again and watched him carefully. "Yes, Cien." Her voice was a whisper. She stepped part way out from behind the tree and then stopped. She wore a beautiful dress. It was a pale blue nearly white, billowing around her softly as if from a breeze. But there was no breeze.
"Follow the path. When you come to the fork, go left." And with that she turned and ran down the path that had mysteriously appeared. It wasn't there the night before.
