CHAPTER FOUR
BAN AND ELAINE

With all the celebrating going on, he figured it'd be easier to find some booze. Ah well. Maybe Ban couldn't find any because he wasn't truly looking. There was a thought. Maybe drowning wasn't what he needed right now. Maybe he needed to breathe a bit.

Fireworks exploded. Their colors raining down over families and soldiers and all those people who were just glad they weren't dead. Glad. That was the funny thing about it.

Ban had walked far to the east, where the damage was too much for people to gather. He climbed rubble, hopping from rock to rock.

This was once a house. Someone lived in this building, called it home.

He stopped when he spotted a crushed, cotton paw spilling out from between the bricks. The stuffing had loosened in the wind, slowly peeling from the rest before the wind carried it away. Lost. He kept climbing.

At the top of the pile, he stopped and checked back on the festival. He could see its glow from here, the swaying light of torches and fires. Then the grand blasts of color. Blue. Green. Gold. He could hear it, too. All that chatter and laughing.

It was good though. In his mind, these people had earned a bit of celebrating after a day like that one. Hell, they'd probably earned more than one. They'd won. On the brink of failure, the Captain had pulled through with one last, ridiculous move that had somehow worked. He'd survived too. He survived.

"Well, this just got a whole lot more complicated." He said to the night. Or, maybe he was talking to her. He wasn't sure anymore.

Ban sat down, finding a comfortable seat to stretch out his legs and rest his hands behind his head. Tonight was not a night for decisions. Those were for tomorrow. Or a week from today. Or whenever he got around to it.

While everyone else reveled in their victory, he'd decided to do some celebrating of his own. All he needed was a clear view of the stars, some solitude, and maybe a bit of that sweet bread he'd swiped and crammed into his pocket.

He picked out shapes in the clouds, just like she used to do. He wasn't nearly as good at it. So far, he saw a circle. A box. A crooked sword, still counted. A mug of ale, if he squinted. Elaine was definitely better at this.

He ate half the sweet bread and then set the rest aside.

Finally, he closed his eyes and waited for sleep. As always, she was his last conscious thought.

And his first when he woke.

On a few lucky nights, he could see her in his dreams, too.

The end.