It was the burned toast. It must have been that. Eva reached up to adjust the rearview mirror of the faded maroon car, eyes peering ahead blearily. Up ahead, the sunlight framed a truck, and the small green sign it was passing. White River Junction - 20 miles. I-93 junction - 21 miles. Manchester, N.H. - 35 miles. /About time, too - I hate driving!/

Shifting lanes, she snuck a look at her watch. /Only 11:00 - making good time. Why did I have to burn the toast this morning? Everything was going so well, too. Though - *I* wasn't the one who turned the selector so high./ She'd been awake for some 48 hours, and she was reaching her limit, more and more disjointed thought-fragments wandering through her head. Only 35 miles to go though. /I wonder if my roommate likes rare steak. Or howling at the moon?/ A noise not unlike a giggle emerged. /Poor girl./

Eva pulled the car neatly into a parking space an hour later, sat in the car a moment, looking at her assigned dorm. /St. Mary's Hall, St. Anselm College. Well. They certainly do like the saints, don't they?/ She managed to get out of the car with only one bump on the head, slammed the door without thinking about it. /Always do that - one of these days, it'll fall off altogether. Let's see. Trees over there - good. That's for later though, I should get settled in first./

The stocky girl - woman, actually, at 20 - made short work of hauling out various suitcases and a few boxes, tightly sealed shut. Waving off the offered assistance of two young men loitering nearby, she carried everything inside - and up in the elevator - and out into the hallway. "201, 205... Oh. Over there. 209." /Time to meet this roommate - what was her name? Maria, I think. Spanish?/ The door opened to reveal a typical boxlike room, two bookcases, two desks, two chairs, two lamps, two beds. No people. "Or maybe not. Okay. I guess that means I get the upper bunk, and pick of the desks."

Once brought in, everything was left unpacked, though stowed in places as to not get in the way of anyone else coming in. /That's that - I suppose it's time now. I've only been waiting six years, after all./

Again, a door was slammed. /Oh, hell./ "Sorry about that!"

Another hour found her easily loping along a barely noticeable trail, clear of the Manchester city limits, checking out the terrain as she went. The slightest hint of softness in the soil led to her switching course without even realizing it, and the path was quickly left behind, as she coursed up a long, tree-covered hill. /No one around - this is as good a place as any./ Her form shifted slowly, clothes changing with her, until a coppery-red wolf stood among the trees, muzzle tilted up toward the sky. A ringing, practiced howl began.

"I am Breaks-the-Trees, who is called Sioneva Ryan by the humans, of the Sept of the Glittering River, in Burlington, VT. I am a warrior of the Fianna, daughter of Patrick Ryan, who was known as Sings-a-New Song, Galliard of the Fianna. He was killed here six years ago. My great-great grandfather was Leaves-No-Trace, legendary fighter of the McAlarney clan in Ireland. I request entry into this Sept, and speech with those who knew my father."

The howling ceased, and upon the small hilltop, a young woman drew in a deep breath. /That should do it. Two days - and I'll try again./ Quietly, she turned and made her way back down the hill, walking slower. /Two days should give me enough time to get more used to Manchester./ Her figure disappeared into the woods.