A/N: If it makes anyone feel better, I have five ideas for large Cara/Kahlan stories. Obviously these will come over time, but, just in case it makes someone feel better. Because I have no idea where everyone writing this ship went and it makes me sad. Anyway I had this go on and it got me through a bad headspace and I don't intend for it to be long or too serious, but that never works out for me. I'm typing up the edits and new chapter for Gone Forever, so the story's basically going to be like new.

Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this as much as I do. I have a lot of ideas and hopes for this one. Definitely AU.

Would you trust a murderer with your secrets? -Brent Weeks

Cara Mason skipped a stone across the lake, a long sigh becoming the first noise she made since wandering from town hours ago. Their numbers dwindled steadily. Those who remained were only there for her. A part of her wondered if it was for the better. They felt Darken Rahl's demise meant safety and drinking and women. Full lives with blissful peace. She lifted a fist-sized rock, turning it over as she did her thoughts. Eventually, her eyes drifted to her black pants, unfocused, and she only limply held the rock.

Could she be wrong? The D'Haran generals scrambling for power didn't concern her. The Seeker was out to repair the Veil, but she was no one to worry about such things. Once, she had been, but hadn't she left that behind? She sighed again.

Someone screamed.

Cara rose, gripping the rock with a silent curse.

Another scream, closer.

A woman in white burst through the treeline surrounding the lake, clutching her side.

Several D'Haran soldiers followed.

Though a wealth of things ran through her mind, they resided in the background as she twisted. Cara sprinted forward, her world in perfect clarity. This could be tricky without a weapon and depended on the severity of the woman's wound.

But if the Mother Confessor's pure heart stopped, the Keeper would destroy all life.

Cara would die first.

They cornered her at a small rock formation. Or, judging from the feral look of the woman, she chose to make her stand.

As Cara closed in, she hurled the rock straight into a man's back.

Soldiers turned, investigating the projectile's source.

She lowered her shoulder and plowed into one. They tumbled. To the sound of swords being drawn, her elbow broke his nose. She yanked on his sword, but it caught. Sunlight on steel shone in her peripheral. Green eyes traveled in time to see a boot connect with a man's wrist, saving her.

The sword came free, and slashed across the man's leg in the same motion. He screamed as Cara rose, kicking him back into another D'Haran.

Cara dropped back beside the Confessor, eyes trained on their enemies. She glanced at the woman's side.

She drew a dagger, her eyes a cold, eerie blue. "I'm fine."

Cara nodded once.

A soldier laughed. "Looks like we get to share two instead of one, boys."

"Remember, they want the witch alive." He spat.

The laughing soldier lunged forward.

Cara deflected his wild swing and spun, slashing at another man. A dagger sank into the first soldier's chest before he could recover. As Cara's opponent fell, a man stumbled toward her, and stilled as her sword pierced his belly.

She looked up to see the Mother Confessor away from the rock formation, dancing between the men's swords like a goddess of death. Her bloody hand slamming into an unprotected throat.

Cara frowned. Why wouldn't she Confess one of them?

Another man fell, leaving two behind to fight the women.

She kicked one toward Cara and evaded her now sole attacker.

Cara abandoned her swing to jump back from his angry one. Green eyes noticed relentless attacks were getting closer to hitting the wounded Confessor. Cara deflected an attack, realizing the woman only had one of her legendary twin daggers. The blonde swept her opponent's leg out and leapt forward, her sword opening the other man's back.

A dagger glinted in the sunlight, silencing his scream.

Cara swung as she spun, the last soldier falling back to avoid her sword.

A noise of rage preluded a dagger flying into the man's eye.

Cara regarded her with surprise, and saw anything but the renowned compassion or elegance known to the Mother Confessor.

Unbridled rage lit the woman's eyes, as blue and cold as ice. A sneer twisted her face, leaving no gentle beauty to be found. Her fingers twitched as though instinct wanted to crush someone's throat, or Confess them. Blood stained the torn side of her white dress and was splattered across her torso.

Cara looked down, seeing blood on her own shirt. Absently, her eyes moved to the sword she held, also coated in blood. She knelt beside the man she'd tackled, cleaning the blade on his clothes before taking his sword belt. As she stood, buckling the sword around her waist, she heard a wet thud and a grunt. Cara turned, only a small part of her surprised by what she saw.

The Mother Confessor was on the last soldier, slamming his head into the ground, angry, indistinct whispers falling from her lips.

After a moment, Cara slowly approached. She crouched.

The remains of the soldier's head continued to hit the ground.

Cara grabbed her wrist, and didn't flinch when the woman whipped around to face her. Green eyes stared into the abyss of a powerless Con Dar.

Excitement coursed through the blonde as she'd never expected to feel. She had almost felt this excited before. Once.

The Mother Confessor rose suddenly. She took a few pointless steps toward the lake and stared at nothing.

Cara breathed in deeply, banished all she felt. She stood, ripping off her sleeve. She joined the brunette, holding it out to her.

Eventually, blue eyes took in the fabric. Her hand grazed Cara's as she accepted and pressed it to her wound. Her voice was flat. "Is there a town nearby? A healer?"

Cara studied her, remembered how cold her hand felt. She lead the way to her home, weighed down with the feeling it would be the last time.

Talia looked up as the door to her shop opened. "What did you do n-" She knocked her book down in her haste to stand. "M-Mother Confessor?" She saw nothing in the woman's eyes and forced herself to focus on the floor.

"I have no money at the moment."

"What?" Talia looked up again, noticing the wound. "No, no."

She tilted her head.

Cara crossed the shop and stood close to the healer, looking at a plain wall.

Talia briefly stared at her. She started bustling around her counter. "No, I won't accept payment. Forgive my shock, Mother Confessor."

She said nothing.

Talia pulled up a worn old chair and set to cleaning the wound.

Cara leaned against the wall, lost in her mind.

Kahlan openly stared at her.

"When'd you get this? Yesterday?"

"Yes."

Cara left, blue eyes tracking her. They focused on Talia. "I apologize for my manner. Can you tell me where Stoneridge is? I've been chased by D'Harans for days, so I'm not entirely certain of its distance."

"That how all Confessors say they're lost?" Her eyebrow quirked. "It's a week by horse, dawn to dusk, and more for where the horses can't go."

"Meaning?"

"It's not called Stoneridge for nothin'. You won't get there in that time, though."

"Why's that?"

The healer leaned back. "You need rest. Wound's clean. I love having opinions, as anyone can tell you, so please control your magic. Is the Seeker there?"

"No, he's… What?"

She looked up, her hand hovering over the wound. "Sometimes magic reacts on its own when someone else uses magic and you're terrifying right now." She cringed. "Sorry. I got my father's mouth."

"You have magic."

"Enough."

"What's your name?"

"Talia."

She gave a strained yet sincere smile. "You have my word."

Talia's hand started to glow.

"Please, call me Kahlan." She resisted the urge to scratch her side. "You're brave, touching an angry Confessor."

"Cara's very reassuring." Talia tilted her head, her tone softening. "And an absolute terror in a fight."

She stared off, her savior more interesting than before. And mysterious. Kahlan closed her eyes, the weight of too many burdens hitting her at once.

Talia withdrew. "Mother Con-"

"Kahlan," she corrected.

"Kahlan," she said slowly. "Is the Seeker dead?"

"I hope not."

Talia's chair hit the wall as she stood. "Forgive me. How insensitive and rude of me."

Kahlan frowned, opening her eyes to stare.

Talia tripped over her words before saying something about her side being healed. She cleaned up in an awkward haste, briefly disappearing into the back in the process.

Realization made Kahlan cringe, and she felt sick inside. How could she tell this woman she felt liberated without his company, even with the loneliness? How could she say, in the face of prophecy, that she was not in love with the Seeker? How could she say out loud she only hoped he lived because she wished to kill him herself?

This mess was her fault.

The Sword of Truth glowed red within its scabbard. The tears had stopped flowing down his face.

Replacing the agony in his dark eyes, only fury remained.

Kahlan shook her head, unwilling to fall further into the memory. Her sigh was shaky. She opened her eyes, finding Talia staring at her.

"The chains of woe will drown you if you choose to carry them."

"That is my burden."

"It is your burden to share, else failure and madness come for you." Talia was quiet for a moment. "We will give you all we can and I'm certain Cara will decide to travel with you, if she hasn't already. Mostly certain."

Her head tilted. "She would leave all she knows to follow me?'

"She leads us." Talia breathed in deeply. "Our town is mostly part of the D'Haran Resistance, but most of us feel there's nothing to resist. Darken Rahl is dead and the Seeker has taken up the quest of repairing the Veil. They celebrate early, and I feel Cara's been considering leaving because of it."

"And what do you feel?"

She looked down, leaning back against the counter. "My father was a D'Haran captain, my mother's rapist. I'm no fighter, but I'd follow Cara anywhere. Knew that the day she came."

"Cara." Kahlan inspected a table. "She isn't from here?"

"No. She arrived as a storm, unyielding to the soldiers here. The Resistance started for us on that very day."

The Confessor noted the wonder in her eyes. "Doesn't say much, does she?"

"Bren asked about it once. She broke his nose and no one's mentioned it since. Cara taught us to fight, to live, to hope, all without a word. We will speak for her, if necessary. Cara's not exactly a person you claim to know the opinions of unless you're absolutely sure and willing to eat dirt."

Kahlan nodded slowly, a thoughtful frown on her face. "Broke his nose? Just like that?"

"She's," Talia scratched her temple, "She's different. No one's had the nerve to ask about her past."

"So a woman shows up, breaks someone's nose to answer a question, and everyone just follows her while knowing nothing of her?"

"I know nothing of you, Mother Confessor. The last to hold your title tried to kill the Seeker without reason. Anything may dwell beneath the surface of a lake."

"Your wisdom reminds me of someone I know." Kahlan smiled a little. "Thank you, the last few days have made me wary."

"Wary is good, forgetting yourself isn't. Now, I bet you're hungry."

The Confessor's stomach growled, and Talia laughed.

"Thank you," Kahlan smiled.

The man helping them nodded and took their empty plates.

Talia leaned forward. "Feel better?"

Kahlan leaned back and looked around the town tavern. It was actually a house, though a large one, and felt significantly more welcoming than most. Cleaner, too. Plain, an almost loving combination of stone and wood, as though someone built it with the idea of giving others a home. "I don't think I've eaten in two days." Her brow furrowed. "That I can remember."

"And now, sleep."

"But-"

"Kahlan." Talia stood. "You need a fresh mind to decide your next move, right? Let's get you a room."

Though she protested, Kahlan followed the healer up the surprisingly well-kept stairs.

Entering the first room, Talia swept out her arm for Kahlan to come in. "Here we have the first of four rooms. What do you think?" She went to the window, drawing open the blue curtains. "Kahlan?" Talia turned and covered her mouth to quiet her laughter.

The woman was in a heap on the bed, sound asleep.

Talia left, closing the door behind her.

That's an ill-placed trench.

Cara stopped pacing. Closed her eyes. Sighed. Even without seeing her for months, or maybe a year, the brunette assisted Cara with simple reason. She heard the remark so clearly, as though the woman stood in her house. Her plain house, practically barren aside from perhaps five pieces of furniture.

Absently, out of habit, she sat on her bed, and her eyes barely observed the floor. Eventually, they settled on her hands. She pulled off her black gloves and continued to stare.

How much damage had she done?

She flexed her fingers.

How much damage would she do?

Her eyes traveled upward, halted at the mirror.

Madness stared back at her.

A/N: So, what do you guys think? Not too bad, eh? I have the next chapter written so I'll see you guys soon.