Here it is. The stunning (I hope) conclusion to Riding Palominos. It has been a crazy ride and I am so thankful for every single one of you. And, look! WE BROKE 100K! I'm so happy. Anyway, there will be a sequel that I'll start posting around mid-January. I've got to finish a couple more chapters in it before I'll fill comfortable posting it.

Also, I have those birthday one-shots I'm working on, so I'm not going to be completely gone. If you would like, I posted what I have for birthday requests on my profile and you can check and make sure I have everything right. If you're not there and you want a one-shot, just send me a request!

Anyway, this is all probably boring you. Thank you all once again, but go ahead, read the chapter.

Jack poked despondently at the scrambled eggs on the plate in front of him. Jessie and Crutchie had been missing for five days now and everyone was giving up hope. The day earlier, Sheriff Palmer had returned from searching with Claude and announced that they would no longer be sending out search parties. "Look," the sheriff had begun slowly, once the entire Holloway family—minus Jessie and Crutchie, Jack noticed gloomily—was seated in the living room, "we have searched for the past three days with no results or clues as to where Jessie or Crutchie could have gone. If they ran away on purpose, they would have been on foot: no horses were taken from your homestead or stolen from any surrounding ranches. And I've had my men talk to the ticketing station for the train and they did not see Jessie or Crutchie. This means that, if they were nearby, we should've been able to find them, seeing as we were on horses and two kids on foot shouldn't have gotten that far." Sheriff Palmer paused, sighing. "Or, they were kidnapped. That is the more stressful possibility because, if that is the case, their abductors most likely had horses and were able to move faster and farther than us. We have not received any ransom notes that could give us a clue as to who would take your children and, at this point, it is very doubtful that they are…" he fell silent, rubbing his face with his hand. "I hate to say this, Claude, you know I do, but I don't want to give you false hope. At this time, I do not believe that either Jessie or Crutchie are still alive."

At that comment, Sue had immediately left the room, her face paling in an alarming manner. Claude had almost started after her, but had remained where he stood beside Sheriff Palmer. Syd had hesitantly spoken up, "What do you mean they aren't alive? If someone took them, wouldn't they want them alive?"

Sheriff Palmer, had taken his hat in his hands, before explaining, "We fear that the abductors targeted Jessie as a young girl and that Crutchie may have just gotten in the way. I have some men that are going to drag the Santa Fe River, see if we can find their bodies, but I'm not entirely hopeful."

"If you don't find them, doesn't that mean they might still be alive?" JT had asked hopefully.

"Maybe," Sheriff Palmer had said, but Jack knew that it was just a nice way of saying "no."

Jessie and Crutchie were dead.

The entire Holloway house had slumped into a broken-backed atmosphere. Clark and Mae-Anne had come over as soon as they had heard about Jessie and Crutchie's disappearance and hadn't left since. Clark was sitting beside Syd, speaking in hushed tones, trying to comfort his younger brother. Syd had been upset and had confessed that he should have stayed back instead of Crutchie and then, maybe, maybe, everything would've been fine. He had explained to Clark, that, ever since the older man had moved out, it had been Syd's responsibility to watch over his younger siblings and he had failed. JT hadn't been much better, wishing that his final words to his sister hadn't been so mocking or mean and that he had been more sympathetic to her illness. After Sheriff Palmer had revealed that he suspected Jessie and Crutchie to be dead, Sue had disappeared into her room and hadn't left. Claude was with her now, Jack supposed. Mae-Anne had been the one cooking meals, now, and she leaned tiredly against the counter, a spatula in hand.

For Jack, however, it was worse. The other boy's words niggled at his conscience. Jack had asked Crutchie if he had wanted Jack to stay behind, too, and Crutchie had shrugged the suggestion off. Nah, don't worry about it. Go have fun. It was a reassurance, a good-bye to an extent that Crutchie hadn't recognized. And it bothered Jack. He shouldn't have relented so quickly, should have convinced Crutchie to let him stay. He should never have taken "no" for an answer. If he had known that that was the last time he would see his best friend, his brother… There were so many things Jack had left unsaid because he had, idiotically, assumed there would be more time. And there wasn't. There was never enough time.

Jack had once bemoaned that he had nothing if he didn't have Santa Fe and had struggled, willing to give up everything, for a town he had only dreamed of. Now he had Santa Fe and he was discovering that he was nothing if he didn't have his brother, Crutchie.

But the realization had come too late. Crutchie was gone. Dead.

For a moment, Jack wondered what Crutchie's death had been like. Was it fast? Painless? Or did the tender life within Crutchie's eyes slowly fade as he coughed, blood dribbling down his chin, ghastly dark against the pale brush of death. Was he shot, a bullet crushing bones and brain matter in the briefest of seconds? A lightning bolt of blinding pain and then dark? Empty, immense dark. Or, would his body be found in the Santa Fe River like the sheriff suspected. Would his best friend be dragged from the water, hair dark and heavy, draped over sightless eyes that bulged from their sockets, skin an unnatural blue, rocks weighing down the feet? Water dripping endlessly, endlessly. Would there even be a body to recover? Or would Crutchie forever be gone, one more thing to add to the list of people Jack had lost because he was so. Damn. Stupid. Jack sighed, unable to take any more of those awful visions, before pushing his chair back determinedly.

"Where are you going?" JT asked, looking up at the sudden noise. He, also, had only been picking at his eggs.

"Away," Jack announced, not looking JT, Syd, or Clark in the eye.

"What—? Y-you can't," JT protested, his eyes wide. "You can't just leave us!"

Jack finally glanced at JT. "And why else should I stick around? Crutchie's dead," he bit out, the words edged and bitter. "He was my family. I don't have no one else."

"You've got us," JT pointed out, sweeping his hand across the table. "Me and Syd and Clark and Mae-Anne and ma and pa. We're your family, too! You can't leave us."

"It ain't the same," Jack muttered, shaking his head.

"Of course it's not!" JT agreed. "But, Jessie and Crutchie are—they aren't here anymore. That doesn't mean we can just give up. You can't just leave us, Jack. It's not fair."

Jack grinned wryly. "If life were fair, kid, Crutchie would still be here. Tell your pa I said thanks," Jack informed the boys, before starting out of the room.

"Don't do this, Jack," Clark advised, his voice soft. "You've got a good life here with us. Don't give it up because fate happened to screw you over."

"I can't stay here," Jack confessed. "Everywhere I turn, it makes me think of Crutchie. I can't do that to myself."

"And you don't think we are feeling the exact same way with Jessie?" Clark challenged. "She was my baby sister. You don't think I'm wishing there was something, anything, I could have done to save her from this fate? You don't think everyone in this entire house is just about to crack from the guilt and pain?" He paused, shaking his head. "We've got to muscle our way through it, though. That's what they'd want of us."

"I—I can't."

"It's hard," Clark agreed, "but with strength—"

"You don't think I'm strong enough to handle my brother's death?" Jack bit out, his eyes glistening from the combined efforts of fiery anger and heart-wrenching grief. "I'm sorry that I didn't expect Crutchie to die when he was only sixteen. I'm sorry I wasn't prepared." The words grew louder and increasingly sardonic. Jack needed to shout, needed to scream at someone, if only to keep from screaming at himself.

"Jack," Clark began, "that's not what I meant and you know it. I'm just trying to say that—"

"No," Jack said, cutting the older man off. "I can't stay here. And I don't care if it's the weaker decision or the wrong choice. It's my life and if I don't want to live here any longer, I won't."

"Jack, please don't go," JT begged.

Syd finally spoke up, his voice hoarse. "Don't leave, Jack. I couldn't bear to lose you, too."

Jack glanced between the Holloway brothers, before shaking his head once more. "I'm sorry, I just can't. I'm glad I got to meet all of you, but I can't stay anymore." With that final comment, Jack left the dining room, trying to ignore the shattered look JT was giving him or the way Syd had slumped even further down or how Clark placed a comforting hand on Syd's shoulders. He couldn't think about that because he had to leave, he had to get out of there, and if he kept remembering those images, he might be tempted to stay.

He slowly gathered up his belongings, which now included a couple of Crutchie's things. Jack couldn't bear to leave any of Crutchie's items: it was all he had left of his best friend and he needed to cling to whatever remained. He reverently grabbed the familiar Stetson, unwilling to leave that precious memory behind. Crutchie had loved that hat. He recalled Crutchie's birthday, when he had given him the Stetson. It was only a couple of weeks ago. Crutchie had barely been sixteen and now he was gone. Forever.

Jack slumped down against the wall of the room Crutchie had shared with JT, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead, trying to ground himself in the physical pain, trying to distract himself from the way he could feel his heart crumbling beyond relief. He hadn't thought… Jack had never even imagined Crutchie leaving him like this. And it wasn't something he could fix by traveling back to New York; there wasn't anywhere he could travel to bring his brother back home. He remembered when Crutchie had been dragged off to the Refuge—Jack, wait! Help, Jack! Help!—but he had never thought the boy would have been killed, always knew that he could get Crutchie out of that hellish situation. Sure, the kid had been battered around a bit, but he was alive and breathing and smiling and back on his feet in no time. This was different. Jack had pushed too hard and Crutchie was gone. And there would be no rescue, no getting the always-smiling boy back.

He sat there like that for a long, grief-soaked minute, before pulling himself to his feet, staggering as he stood up. Jack had to move on, keep going, as much as he hated the idea. He would never forget Crutchie, but he couldn't just sit there and wallow in his loss. At least not in front of the Holloways. Once he got to wherever he was going… Maybe all the anguish would be over.

Jack gathered up his and Crutchie's belongings, making his way through the house—and there, in the corner, shadows of memories past. Crutchie, grinning, as he and Jack had watched Syd and JT play chess, a ghostly board with spectral pieces that shuddered and whispered. Silhouettes of the Holloways as they had surprised Crutchie for his birthday, the boy's face softening into an ethereal smile that seemed to remain, even after the spectral afterimages had faded. Blankets from nights passed, when Jack and Crutchie had curled up on the ground, words that had been spoken floating through the air, heavy and light, dark and white; Jack had to push through the cobwebby illusions that grasped at his sleeves, at his hair, holding him back, whispering, "Wait." He had only gotten a couple steps down the dirt stretch that led past the Holloway's property, when a voice stopped him.

"Wait, Jack!" Jack turned to face Claude, frowning at the older man. As he turned, he was surprised to see the entire Holloway family had made their way outside to stop him. Even Sue, who had only emerged from the room she shared with Claude a few times in the last couple days, was standing outside, her arms clutched around her to ward off a chill that Jack suspected arose from the inside, rather than the outside.

"Claude, I can't stay here. I'm sorry, it's just…" he trailed off, before admitting. "It's too much. I can't do this. Not without him. It's too hard."

"Jack," Claude began, crossing the distance and placing his hand on Jack's shoulder, "I know," he admitted. "It's too hard for me, also. It's too hard for all of us. But, if we stick together—"

Jack shrugged out of Claude's touch, shaking his head. "You don't understand. Crutchie was the only one I had growing up. It was just me and him. I—I don't know what to do without him. I don't think I can go on," he admitted, softly voicing the dark thoughts that had mocked and murmured in the shadowy recesses of his mind. "It ain't fair for me to be without him."

"No, stay with us. You have all of us now. We can help you and you can help us. Please, don't go," Claude said, reaching out to grip Jack's shoulder supportively once more. Jack hesitated, torn between what his shattered heart was telling him to do and staying with the only family he had ever known.

Sue's sudden exclamation, however, pulled Jack away from his decision. "Claude!" she shouted, drawing everyone's attention to her, especially that of her husband. She stumbled backwards, her knees giving out beneath her. Clark and Syd were immediately at her side, helping her stand.

"Ma, are you okay?" Clark urgently asked as Claude stepped toward his wife, worry etching itself across his features.

Her only answer was to point a trembling finger down the dirt path that extended past the Holloway's property.

In the distance, two riders could be made out, both astride galloping palominos. One had long red hair, tied into a thick braid and the other—Jack froze, his heart leaping to his throat. The other had a wooden rod balanced under his arm so similar to a crutch Jack knew too well.

"That—That's not—" Syd stuttered, hope lightening his eyes, throwing off the shadows that had stained his brow for the past days.

"Jessie and Crutchie!" JT shouted, stepping forward.

For, as the riders drew closer, it became evident that it was, in fact, Jessie and Crutchie returning home. They both reined the horses to a stop as they finally approached their dumbfounded family. Jessie and Crutchie were both smiling and Crutchie was the one to finally break the silence. He gestured to his Stetson in Jack's hand. "Don't tell me you was planning on stealing my hat."

"I thought you was dead," Jack breathed, a grin slowly crossing his features.

"That doesn't mean you get to take whatever you want," Crutchie groused, sliding off the horse. Jessie dismounted beside him. Crutchie had just barely hit the ground, when Jack swept him into a tight hug. "Careful!" Crutchie warned, before crying out in pain.

Jack immediately jerked backwards, his eyes roving Crutchie's body, searching for the cause of the cry. He noticed the way Crutchie was clutching his left wrist against his chest and Jessie spoke up, confirming Jack's suspicions. "The idiot broke his wrist again."

Crutchie half-heartedly glared at her. "Oh, like I did it on purpose," he muttered sarcastically.

"See, I seem to recall you purposely antagonizing your kidnapper," Jessie retorted.

"Kidnapper?" Claude interrupted. "What happened to you two?"

Jessie glanced at Crutchie for support and the younger boy nodded imperceptibly. "Here's what happened," he began. "Shortly after you all left, there was this knock at the door and I answered it since Jessie was going to go to sleep. It was Gabriel." There was a sharp intake of breath and JT muttered something along the lines of "I knew it," before Crutchie continued his story, "Anyway, he was going to take Jessie and force her to marry him. Naturally, I tried to stop him. I got in a couple good hits before—"

With a scoff, Jessie corrected, "You were out within the first minute."

"I didn't see it coming," Crutchie complained. "And, besides, who is telling this story? Me or you?" When Jessie made no move to finish the story, Crutchie continued, "Exactly. So, I was out and when I woke up again we were on our way to Tucson. You know, in Arizona," he added, mostly for Jack's benefit. "Long story short, we found out that Gabriel is the bank robber from back when Claude got shot and we escaped. The end."

"The end?" Jack cried out. "That can't be the end. How did you get out?"

"And how did you re-break your wrist?" Claude asked, before adding, "Just as soon as you tell us, I'll go get Tim so he can patch you back up."

Crutchie shrugged. "Luck, I guess. For the escaping, not the breaking of my wrist. Gabriel was going to kill me and he had one of his buddies, Manuel, take me out away from camp to kill me, but we fought and somehow he hit his head on this rock and was knocked unconscious. I was able to make my way back to camp and help Jessie get out of there. As for the wrist, I was not purposely antagonizing Gabriel," he glared at Jessie, before continuing, "I just happened to be talking to Jessie and he didn't like that and voila, broken wrist." Crutchie bit off the end of that sentence, trying desperately to ignore the ghostly feel of Gabriel's unrelenting hands on his wrist, yanking, jerking—

"So, where is Gabriel now?" JT asked.

Jessie shrugged. "We left him and Manuel tied up back at camp and told the nearest town's sheriff about everything that happened. I'm assuming they're safely in jail now."

"Wow," JT breathed. "That is the coolest thing that has ever happened. You two could be famous!" he exclaimed.

Claude smiled softly, the first time in four days. "Okay, I'm going to go get Tim. No running off and no being kidnapped."

"No promises," Crutchie joked, before turning back to Jack. "You okay?" he asked, taking in Jack's disheveled appearance.

"Yeah, fine," Jack said, gently ruffling Crutchie's hair. "Just glad you're back in one piece."

"One broken piece," Crutchie corrected, gently lofting his broken wrist in the air.

Jack pulled Crutchie into a one-armed hug, careful of the other boy's left wrist. "I really missed ya, kid."

"Yeah, I missed you, too, Jack," Crutchie replied, leaning into the embrace, unable to voice just how much he had wished to be back with the Holloways, back with Jack. He breathed out a shaky sigh, so unbelievably relieved that Jack was even able to hug him again. There had been too many moments when he had feared that he would never see Jack again, let alone feel his best friend's comforting arms around him. "I'm glad to be back."

"And Jessie," Jack said, turning to the red-headed young woman, "thank you for making sure he made it back."

Jessie paled slightly before tossing half a smile Jack's way. "He's the one who shot Gabriel to save me. I didn't do anything."

"You shot Gabriel?" JT asked excitedly. "Where?"

"The shoulder," Crutchie admitted sheepishly.

"I hope you weren't aiming for the leg," Jack joked.

"Course not," Crutchie grumbled. "I happen to be a great shot. Besides," he added, "Jessie's the one that beat Gabriel over the head with a stick."

Jack and the Holloway children turned to Jessie. "You beat him up?" Syd asked. "How hard?"

"Hard enough that he was still unconscious by the time we had gathered up our stuff and left to go home," Jessie explained.

Syd whistled lowly. "Good work, sis. Remind me to never get on your bad side."

The Holloway children, along with Jack and Crutchie, made their way inside the house, where Sue immediately began to fuss over her recently returned children. "Are you guys okay? Are you hungry? Crutchie, be careful with your wrist. Dr. Cavanaugh will be here in a moment. Are you feeling okay, Jessie? You look a little pale."

"We're fine," Jessie said, leaning into the arm chair she had claimed as her own. She glanced sideways at Crutchie. "Right, Crutch?"

"Right," Crutchie agreed. "Good as new." When Jack shot a pointed look at Crutchie's wrist, Crutchie rectified, "Well, not good as new, per se, but getting there."

The sound of the door opening announced Claude's entrance with Dr. Cavanaugh by his side. "So, we meet again, Crutchie," Dr. Cavanaugh said, crossing the room to where Crutchie continued to keep his left wrist carefully held against his chest.

"Sorry I'm not the 'great patient' you wanted me to be," Crutchie mumbled.

"How'd you manage to break it again?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked. "Claude told me you and Jessie had quite the adventure."

Crutchie shrugged. "It just managed to get broken," he muttered, not really wanting to relive those pain-filled memories. If he shut his eyes, he could still feel Gabriel's hand wrapped around his wrist, could still feel the jerk of his arm that—

"Come on, Crutchie," Dr. Cavanaugh said gently. "You've got to tell me so I can help you."

"It really doesn't matter all that much," Crutchie whispered.

Dr. Cavanaugh nodded before standing up and addressing the rest of the Holloway family. "Do you mind giving Crutchie and I some privacy? Just until I have him all bandaged and ready to go."

Claude nodded, gently leading the rest of the family out. Jessie cast Crutchie a mournful glance, before slumping out of the room. Crutchie bit his lip. He hadn't meant for Jessie to feel guilty; he just didn't want everyone to know about how Gabriel had treated him, how he had wished for death in that brief moment. Jack remained at his place beside Crutchie and Dr. Cavanaugh softly motioned for him to leave also. "No, I can stay," Jack said, searching Crutchie's face for… for something. Crutchie wasn't sure what Jack was looking for and couldn't work up the effort to figure it out. He lowered his eyes. "Can't I stay, Crutch? I just want to help."

"I—I know," Crutchie said, "but, maybe, I just want to talk to Dr. Cavanaugh first. Then you."

Jack's shoulders sagged. "Oh. Okay, well I'm here for ya, right? You can always come to me."

"Thanks, Jack," Crutchie whispered as Jack was ushered out of the room.

"Now, Crutchie," Dr. Cavanaugh said, sitting beside the crippled boy. "Whatever you tell me, I won't tell the others."

Swallowing hard, Crutchie explained. "Gabriel broke my wrist. He didn't mean to, not at first. H-he just grabbed me by my left wrist to move me out of the way, but when I screamed he realized that it was hurting and he started just, uh, squeezing it harder and—and, oh, god, I could feel the bones move and then he kept jerking me around by my wrist and it hurt so bad and I just wanted—" Crutchie cut himself off, shaking his head. "Manuel also accidentally grabbed me by this wrist and then I shot a gun a couple times and then I fell off the horse," he added, with a small grin. "The horse part was completely my fault, though."

"Are you okay?" Dr. Cavanaugh asked.

"Will be just as soon as you wrap my wrist up," Crutchie reassured the doctor, though he doubted the older man believed his words. This time, Crutchie wasn't even able to believe his words. He recalled all too many nights where he had awoken, his brow slick with sweat, from nightmares about the Refuge. Who knew how long Gabriel would haunt his dreams? For some reason, Crutchie didn't think he would be able to shake this experience as easily as he had shaken the Refuge into the past.

"Okay," Dr. Cavanaugh said, carefully resituating the bones and wrapping them with a splint to hold the bones in their correct place. "Okay, this should work for now. Do be careful with your wrist and, Crutchie," he added, making eye contact with the younger boy, "if you ever need to talk to anyone, you can always find me."

Crutchie merely grinned. "Thanks, doc, but I can take care of myself."

As Dr. Cavanaugh helped the other boy to his feet, JT burst into the room. "Hey, Crutch, some guy is here to see you," he announced.

"Who?" Crutchie asked.

JT shrugged. "I don't know. He just said he needed to speak with you and Jessie. Come on."

Crutchie quickly followed JT out of the room, ignoring the way Dr. Cavanaugh ran his hand through his hair tiredly. In the entry way of the Holloway's house, a young man with a bushy blonde moustache looked up. "Are you, uh," he glanced down at his paper, "Crutchie? Crutchie Holloway?"

"Morris," Crutchie corrected.

"Hm," the blonde muttered, glancing back at the paper. "Morris Holloway…"

"No, Crutchie Morris. Morris is my last name. Not Holloway."

"But, she's Jessie Holloway?" the blonde asked, gesturing at Jessie.

"Yes," Crutchie said.

"Hm. That's confusing," he complained.

Claude stepped forward. "May I ask what this is about?" he questioned. The words were stern, not harsh, but Crutchie could hear an undertone of protectiveness that colored the older man's words. And that made sense, Crutchie supposed. Claude had nearly lost him and Jessie. Of course the older man would be more hesitant about strange men and more protective of his recently returned children.

"Ah, yes," the blonde said. "Jessie Holloway and Crutchie Morris," he emphasized, glaring somewhat at Crutchie, "managed to capture two wanted men. There was a reward posted by the banks they robbed. Each of them gets $500."

Crutchie's eyes widened. "Really?" he asked.

The blonde nodded. "It would be more, but we haven't managed to find Alejandro yet." With that, he handed stacks of the bills to a dumfounded Jessie and Crutchie. "Don't spend it all in one place, kids." He tipped his hat in Claude and Sue's direction, before leaving the house.

"What're ya gonna do?" Jack asked, eyeing the money in his best friend's hands.

Crutchie grinned, before turning to Claude. "For the loan. I sorta overheard you before I went to New York." He held the money out to Claude, who quickly shook his head.

"No, Crutchie, I couldn't take your money."

"Think of it as a gift," Crutchie suggested.

"We really don't need—" Claude began, but Crutchie interrupted him.

"You can have the money, or I can give it to JT who would just blow it on chocolate."

"And a horse or five!" JT excitedly announced.

Claude smiled softly. "Are you sure?"

"Certain," Crutchie said, passing the money over to Claude. "It could be payment for taking Jack and I in."

Jessie handed her money over to her father also. "To say I'm sorry," she said.

"For what?" Claude asked.

Jessie shrugged, not meeting Crutchie's watchful eyes. "I don't know. Not trusting you about Gabriel?"

"I'm just glad the two of you are safe," Claude said, pulling Jessie into a hug. His daughter initially stiffened at the contact, before relaxing and hugging her father back. They were all safe and nothing could hurt them again.

Crutchie laughed. "It was quite the adventure. But, I guess it all worked out for the best in the end, yeah?"

"You know what that makes me think of?" Syd suddenly announced, his face brightening. "There's this one part in Candide, where—"

All of the Holloway children cut Syd off. "Shut up, Syd," they chorused.

Syd rolled his eyes. "You just don't understand art."

"The term you were looking for is obsession," Jessie pointed out, as JT laughed at his older brother.

Crutchie smiled, glancing at Jack. They had finally found a family. They had finally found a home. It had taken a lot and so many things had happened, things that Crutchie could have never imagined taking place. He had run away to New York, had witnessed a bank robbery, had been kidnapped, and had learned how to ride an actual palomino. He had broken his wrist, been struck down with scarlet fever, and had thought that he was going to die far too many times, in his opinion. And Crutchie wouldn't trade anything in the world for where he was now.

"It is demonstrable," said he, "that things cannot be otherwise than as they are; for all being created for an end, all is necessarily for the best end. Observe, that the nose has been formed to bear spectacles—thus we have spectacles. Legs are visibly designed for stockings—and we have stockings. Stones were made to be hewn, and to construct castles—therefore my lord has a magnificent castle; for the greatest baron in the province ought to be the best lodged. Pigs were made to be eaten—therefore we eat pork all the year round. Consequently, they who assert that all is well have said a foolish thing, they should have said all is for the best."

-Candide, by Voltaire

So, I tried some new description techniques and I'd really appreciate if you guys gave me some feedback on whether those paragraphs worked or not. Yeah, reviews and constructive criticism are always very appreciated!

Also, a preview of the sequel, The Hearts of the Palominos. It will be a romance. Or, rather, a bunch of small romances interconnecting. But, like, it will be an Ostrich type of romance, so it will include, in alphabetical order: abduction, arson, bullets, and death. It will be so much fun, I promise. I hope you all decide to stick around for it!

Oh, and Victoria Pavone? I tried to do fluff. I swear, I did. I finished the chapter and thought, "Aw, that was fluffy enough." Then I went back to edit it a couple days later and nope. That was straight angst. Sorry. The sequel will have plenty of fluff.