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When Mae could run no longer, she walked. When she mustered up enough energy, she ran again. When her feet burned or her ribs cramped up, she shifted to walking. And this she continued until night fell upon the earth, ignoring the question that was trying to push its way to the forefront of her mind: Why wasn't anyone following her?

Her first thought was that it was because she was right; Folco didn't care. Maybe her action had revolted him so much, creeped him out to such a degree that he did not think he could continue teaching her. It would not surprise her; she was so humiliated that she wasn't sure she could handle resuming their previous relationship, either. 

Her stomach growled and she forced her feet to stop moving. She had no idea where she was, she had not eaten or drank anything the entire day, and her eyelids were drooping; she was tired and sad and wished she felt more comfortable with just sleeping right out in the open. 

Then she realized: Nobody had come after her because nobody had to. The warlocks did not need to make it into a chase, they didn't need to capture her. Folco was the only one who had to do anything. The moment she fell asleep, he could find her. 

Mae rubbed her hands together and tightened the strings of her hood, trying to warm her ears. Her feet were wet and sore, the snow that had melted on the bottom of her pants earlier had frozen over again, and she was in the middle of nowhere with no idea what to do. She now very much regretted throwing her tantrum, but it had really felt unavoidable to her at the time.

As much as she did not want to encounter Folco again so soon, Mae really didn't see what choice she had. She could not keep going, not now that it was dark and she was mentally and physically exhausted. No, she would have to sleep, and she would just have to hope that Folco was not waiting for her subconscious to come to life.

After curling up and falling asleep in the barest spot she could find, she quickly discovered that she would have no such luck.

                                     ☆★          ☆         ★     ☆ ★        ☆        ★        ☆       ★

Mae caught just the slightest glimpse of the Hallway of Dreams before she felt his presence. Her dream-self was pushed away from her own dream by a strong gust of wind, and everything went black for a moment.

Then she landed in their place.

"No, Folco!" she cried, before she even saw him. She knew he was here somewhere, that he brought her here; she knew he was listening. "I'm not staying here!"

He materialized in front of her as if he was made of nothing, and two butterflies fluttered around his head, drawn to the golden hue of his hair. Mae refused to look into his face, and when he approached her, she basically ran backwards.

"Are you okay, Maeve?" he asked. His voice was stern, and she did not miss that he used her full name. Her stomach plummeted even further, which she had not realized was possible.

"I'm fine. Let me out now," she demanded. She shivered; it was cold here, too, though it seemed the most delightful of summer days. A brilliant sun was shining above them, and brightly-plumed birds were floating through the air that was marred by only a few white clouds. The grass was greener than was realistic, and the butterflies looked as glittering and beautiful as the last time she had seen them. Trees and flowers grew all around, and she knew there would never be complete silence; not in such a setting. Perhaps she was just cold because her conscious mind was telling her so; her body needed warmth, and she was suffering because she didn't have it.

"You're not fine, Maeve. I can sense it; we're enveloped by each other's subconscious minds. You're the one who figured this connection out, Maeve--"

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