A/N: I still see that the site is eating responses (and is slow and tempermental), hopefully things will get back to normal soon... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dear Mother and Father,

I know you have not heard from us in over a year, and what you may have heard through word of mouth or news is quite devastating. However I thought that since so much time has passed, the least I could do as a Yuletide present to you is to write and explain what has happened to us.

As you all know about the Miranda video, and how we were apart of unveiling it, I hope that is evidence that helps you to believe that what the Alliance was doing to River was real. And that what I did, how I broke her out and fled, was absolutely necessary. After I did break her out, we took sanctuary on a transport ship of questionable nature (to say the least) and I took a job as a medic.

The crew has treated us more and more like family, and though I miss Osiris and you both terribly, we have settled with them. River is very happy, she is recovering from the trauma of the academy by leaps and bounds, and is actually apart from me right now, off learning how to control the talents forced upon her by the Academy. After being so protective of her for so long, I’m both happy and terrified of the separation, but I know all too well it will only help her. I can’t take care of her forever and nor will she let me because she’s meimei and still a bratty teenager first and foremost. While she was with me her favorite pastimes were dancing, making fun of everyone and playing with her precious cats. Which definitely sounds like her doesn’t it?

As for me, I am pleased to report that while initially life outside of the core was culture shock, I have found myself a niche here. Learning to adapt was quite hard (and vexing because River took to it like a duck to water), but I find myself content and capable. I still practice medicine when needed in a small town, but for the most part I have been employed in a much different, much lower class trade that is more taxing on the mind and body. Regardless, I love it, and I am looking forward to saving my money and building a house of my own so I can provide a stable life for a woman I intend to wed. She may not be a debutante or socialite like you would have wanted, but I cherish her dearly, and I cannot see myself without her as my cheerier better half.

I hope you are both well and continue to be so throughout the years. I fear it may be a long while, if ever, when I write again as I fear this letter being tracked. Please do not seek us out, regardless the charges are dropped we are not favored by the Alliance and prefer to lay under the radar lest we are targeted again.

Love Your Son, Simon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon was having his doubts.

The anxiety of the duel that would be upon him had forced him to take something to rest. After giving himself a few pills that aided in sleep, the doctor drifted off before Kaylee came to the room. The sleep had been fitful, visions of being shot and leaving the others behind, one particular sequence included Kaylee being attacked by Bailey. As he stirred out of the last bad dream, he opened his eyes and found her snuggled up against his frame, and the cat for some strange reason was sleeping on the nightstand. It brought a sigh to his lips as she hadn’t wanting anything to do with him for a past few days. Simon absorbed her face, her expression of sleep. Leaning forward he kissed her forehead, and waited.

He didn’t know how long, yet eventually Kaylee stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she let out a yawn. “Hmmm.” Seeing he was awake, she wrapped her arms around his chiseled torso and kissed him good morning. “Hey you.”

“So we’re talking?” He whispered, sitting up which brought her into his lap.

“Yeah.” She leaned back as his arms held her in place, eyes ashamed. “I’m sorry I haven’t been supportive… but I don’t wanna lose you.”

“I know.” He voice sincerely. “However, I need to take a stand. For us. I know you’re alright with running, but I’m sick and tired of running from people Kaylee. We settled here, we made our home here, and I refuse to let someone bully us away from it.”

Silently, she agreed, exhaling deeply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Womendi Zi Ran Xiuli Gongyuan was located half a mile from the Serra estate.

It was the largest natural park near Cheng De Xi Guang, with thickets, bamboo forests, lakes and an open space of scrub grass. People of upper class of Suzhou frequented it for picnics, frolicking, plein aire studies, meditation and hunting. There at the edge of the park was a hunting lodge only the residents were allowed to exclusively use. It was located on a bluff overlooking the park, sleek and modern in some aspects yet still retaining its flavor of old Sihnonese architecture. Inside, the fireplace was roaring, the bar was full service, and the kitchen had a full spread of delectable foods; caviar, steamed bamboo shoots stuffed with lobster, bao yu, matsusaka, pheasant, boar, dried plums and olives, shark fin soup and various zhengjiao. Mal and Inara had come to the park separately from Cadoc, in fact the latter had insisted on traveling at the same time as the trailers that held their hunting necessities, though she gave no particular reason.

It was Inara’s day to flaunt her noble blood in a way Mal had never quite witnessed. With Atherton, she had been his guest, and with all clients was expected to act with a certain allure of humility. However she was not working during the hunt, and was mixing with families she had known since childhood. As she led the way into the lodge, she was in fact dressed for the hunt. It was the first time Mal had ever seen her in pants, thought they were not of the modern fashion. They were a hybrid of Chinese ku and Middle Eastern harem, with dark silk boots of high ankle length protecting her feet, embroidered with thousands of beads to form floral patterns. The pants of the finiest shade of azure were held up by a crimson sash that had a luck coin and jade pendent dangling from the most prominent end of the fringe. Her top was a lighter shade of blue, and the hem exposed her midriff. The top was without sleeves, but had a mandarin collar that stood up taller than others along with a sportingly deep cleavage line, the Serra crest on the right side of the collar in glittering crimson thread. She wore bracers for the archery to come, and they too were beaded quite beautifully with fenghuang. Finally her hair was pulled up, and her eyes were smoky with shimmering navy shadow. Upon seeing the group in the lodge, she smiled and greeted them all, introducing Mal who had opted for dark grey riding pants, a rich olive dress shirt, and a black tang vest over his suspenders as he held Meilin in her red silk suit.

Mal picked up on little of her conversation (it was a mix of English, Chinese and sometimes Arabic) as he slowly figured out the social map of the lodge. All servants wore uniforms that clearly displayed the house crest they worked under, as all Sihnonese families of status were known by their crest. Aside from the color silver, only the family members were allowed to have the crest on their clothing in metallic colors, and most of the nobility had it displayed on their right breast or right collar, though not as obvious as their slaves. The hunters clothing also varied widely for they ranged from breeches and hunting jackets to caftans to Huan-esque robes to kilts and dresses for some of the ladies. He swore a little piece of himself died, standing in a room with a bunch of Alliance kissing bastards, keeping fat on their old money whilst the rim starved.

“Let’s go get something to eat before our party starts out.” She told him.

“I ain’t that big of a lunch fella.” He reminded her as they drifted to the table of delectable foods.

“I know, but regardless my family has embraced many orient customs, my mother treats dinner in the Middle Eastern tradition….”

“What does that mean?”

Meilin let out a wary yawn as she watched the room with what could have been considered infant suspicion. Too many funny looking people that weren't at all familiar.

“Dinner is going to be light, so you may want to get your fill here.” The slaves in charge of the table took a plate from the stack, and poised themselves to serve whatever was requested.

“Inara.”

The tone Cadoc used was unpleased, ruffled to say the least as he came in briskly and approached her in a rigid fashion.

Mal’s eyes narrowed and he shifted his weight.

Inara gave a sincere aura of aloofness towards the man before them in a plum tang jacket with the exact embroidery of the first and black trousers. “Whatever is the matter?”

“I had this hunt planned as a xiaoma shoulie.” He flared, angry as someone had upset what he had wanted. “You had them bring everything for an elabai shoulie.”

“I’m completely aware of what I did.” She didn’t bat an eye, as she knew that what he had planned would have been an excellent avenue to humiliate Mal along with it being her least favorite way to engage in archery.

“Nin wei shen ma kuai zuozhei yangshi?” He glared, his volume civil yet his tone challenging.

“Because, Cadoc, seeing as I am the daughter and apparent predecessor, I have more say than the ai wanju my mother will tire of in roughly a year.” She announced coldly and with noble right. “Perhaps I wish to embrace my ancestry through this hunt, as well as ride real horses. Regardless the reason, I have authority. Now if you wish to ride a tragically simple pony and eventually retire to sit in here and laugh around a majong board drunk on saki, by all means, go see if anyone will loan you a pony. But women yiwomen de gong huoma zhu wei ao.”

Cadoc shut his mouth, scorned. “Very well then.” He bowed and left.

Mal smiled, near giggling with pleasure. That had been worth the price of attendance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“May I?”

Zoe turned to see one of the shepherds standing behind her and her firearms student. He was a short, stout fellow, his hair thin ringlets of grey, and pulled into an awkward, patchy ponytail like the others. He had on thick coke bottle glasses, with eyes that seemed too close together and a large round, red nose.

“May I help the lad?” He asked in a gentle voice that sounded hardly capable of harming a gnat, let alone wielding a firearm.

She wanted to scoff, because he looked even more helpless and anti-conflict than the Doctor, however Zoe nodded her head and gestured forward. “Be my guest Shepherd.”

The man shuffled forward. “Now Doctor Tam,”

“Please, call me Simon.” Simon explained in a voice that was trying to be kind, yet was strained from the frustration of the day. “And… I can shoot a weapon accurately… I just have to take my time.”

“Tell me, Simon, you are a surgeon correct?” He took the pistol and examined it.

“Yes?” Kaylee must have told him, she could give most of their life information out on a first meet with people.

“Did you ever do anything besides surgeon?”

Simon rubbed the back his neck with his glove. “Well, in prep school, college, up really until I got my job…”

“What pray tell?” He pulled the firing chamber open and examined it. "Elaborate."

“Piano, classical mostly. Dressage, fencing… I was regional fencing champion for a few years.” He confessed, stunning Zoe who had never known Simon to have such talent beyond mending people. “Won a handful of modest dressage competitions, I would have gone onto haute ecole but it suffered do to my education.”

Zoe stared at him in disbelief.

"My parents pushed extra curicular activities." He shrugged and sighed. "Something about being well rounded."

“All things that demand superb reflexes and hand/eye coordination.” He loaded the pistol and set it in Simon’s holster, then within half a second pulled it out of the holster twirled it around his finger till the tang snapped against the juncture of his thumb and palm, and fired three bullets into the Simon Scarecrow’s chest. “We have a fine working gun.” He announced, sliding it back into the holster as Simon and Zoe were awestruck. “Pupil who has credentials that are more than adequate, I fear you just need a different teaching approach.”

Zoe was still speechless, and it was slow to set in he was hinting she wasn’t the best of instructors.

“Now, I hate to be so bold but I think if you and I are left alone for the rest of the day, you’ll be slinging this gun like it was born with it in your hand.” He turned to the first mate and shooed her away. “A little privacy please.”

“But… how… You just…?”

“Miss Zoe, none of us start off as Shepherds.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Meilin was kissed and set in the arms of a nanny.

The hunting parties grouped and separated accordingly by their way of stag hunting. Some people were more in the style of the Londiniumites, swift Shadow Prairie Wranglers in English saddles and a huge pack of baying hounds as spears and sabers were carried. Those who liked the Sihnonese methods took to hunting ponies, the saddles up high on the backs of the beasts, the seats curved with filigree and enamel work, the hooves diamond hard for rough terrain and the heads low so an arrow could easily sore.

And as these methods had their beauty, they were nothing compared to what Mal was about to hunt with.

The elabai shoulie method employed Arabians, gorgeous hot blooded horses that had manes of spun silk and a gate that was tireless and floating. The horses, stock of the ancient earth-that-was breed, wore brightly colored tack and saddles, with tassels on the bridles and fenders. Quivers were lashed to the saddles, as well as a bladder of water. Several slaves atop less radiant specimens of the equine had falcons hooded and clasped to a glove on their hands. And the squires kept the packs of Salukis on their leashes, the elegant hounds with their feathering excited about the adventure.

Inara mounted a white horse, her ease in the saddle apparent as she slid her bow into a holster on the saddle. Cadoc was on a black Arabian, uneasy with the breed yet sticking to it as he wished to prove her accosting wrong, and Mal was atop a bay. They kept to the right of their group, their horses some of the finest on display, as were the dogs, for they were six coveted fawn Salukis, with a white patch of fur on their throats rare and revered as the Kiss of Allah to breed enthusiasts. As the others mounted their rides and had their squires steady the Salukis. Inara looked to Mal, who clearly knew nothing of the pedigree of the horse, or the dogs, or anything in general about the hunt. With a small smile that pulled the left side of her mouth to curl, she rode her horse over to him. “Are you alright?”

“I have a question, why all the pomp over killing a buck?” He steadied his horse.

“It’s social, think of it like…. I don’t know…. Whatever sport suits you.” She pressed out awkwardly. "It's been tradition for ages."

“Take it you like it, seeing you left Meilin in the hands of a nanny.”

“It’s fun, but I came because if I didn’t Cadoc would probably try to humiliate and or kill you.”

“Kill me? Me?” Mal balked. “And how would he do that?”

“It’s a hunting event?”

“Right. Well I’ve brought an insurance policy so I don’t need protecting.” He rolled his ankle to emphasis where his service pistol was holstered. “Though I thank you for your chivalrous offer of being my bodyguard, let’s me feel special.”

“Be as dry as you want, I can win sword duels because of technique, not because my opponent was conveniently distracted.” She smiled back.

“So you and Ath can beat me with a pointy stick…” He scoffed.

“And Simon.” She added.

“Simon?”

“Simon told was a regional fencing champion in prep school as well as a competitor in dressage and classical piano.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Remember, like the sword, DRAW!”

Simon’s hand dropped to the gun, catching it snugly by the tang. He took a step to the side, kept his non-firing hand at his belt, pulled the gun out and extended his arm, his finger resting against the trigger. Catching the target with his eye he lined it up and fired.

Leaving a smoking hole in the Scarecrow’s chest.

“Five seconds, a good start.” The Shepherd praised. “Now, faster this time.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“And how do you know all of that?”

“Because I actually talk to him instead of tease him?”

“Well none of that fancy stuff matters where he is now. All…”

“Inara.” A nobleman in a more Victorian sporting outfit with a crest of star and mason’s hammer called as he steadied an anxious grey. “Is your party ready?”

“Yes William.” She nodded to him.

William nodded his head to the man in charge of their specific hunt. A rather fat man in an imperial style suit, with silver hair, beard, and rheumy eyes.

“Ladies and Gentleman, release your birds!” He ordered with a deep, gelatinous bellow.

Cadoc began to open his mouth.

“Ling, fa bu lieying.” Inara instructed before he could. The companion’s look of boiling frustration was extinguished when she gave him a subtle expression that put him back in his place.

The falcons, blue feathered raptors, had their hoods pulled off and were sent off into the sky to search for proper stags. The hunting party followed, the noblemen and women on their horses as squires walked the packs of dogs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

River swallowed a mouthful of dinner.

The menu differed from day to day, a vegetarian menu as most were devout Buddhists and few readers ever ate meat to begin with, for knowing the thoughts of animals gave them a perspective about the lives of those feasted upon. Dinner that night brought white rice, steamed snap peas, squash, mushrooms, carrots, bok choy, mung bean sprouts and water crest all drenched in a spicy broth and served with green tea. She ate methodically, with just Fiyero.

The other students, and some of the monks, weren’t too keen on being friends with the Shao Long. River was odd to begin with, and though she didn’t know much about being a Long, the definition was broad and in the end always intimidating. Just the word Long itself was perceived as a mighty power, and she had heard some students talk about Long Warriors mastering all ninety thousand forms of martial arts and becoming so powerful they are able to control minds and the laws of the universe, many eventually transcending out of their natural bodies and into god hood. While she didn’t believe most of it, people had good reason to shy from an unstable being of great raw power and gift.

Fiyero didn’t care, he looked up from his spicy rice soup as they sat under a tree and away from the tables that surrounded the kitchen. Her mind block slipped, he gleaned, and he nudged her foot with his own. “Hey.”

River gazed up.

He put on an encouraging smile. “Who cares what they think.”

“They’re scared and annoyed. Conclusions easily made by studying facial feature positions.” She pushed her wooden spoon around.

“I’m not, and I know you possibly could kill me with your pinkie.” He scooted closer till she was resting against his shoulder. “I love living on the razor sharp edge of danger. Why, you could wake up one night and go on a rampage, tearing across the countryside with a legion of temple cats as your evil minions, and I still wouldn’t be annoyed. Perchance a little scared, but with some underlying understanding as to your reasons.”

She rested her head against him. “You are such a loon.”

“Thanks, takes one to know one.” He tickle jabbed the Shao Long.

River squealed, sloshing her soup. However her laughter died as footsteps neared.

The both looked up to see the two young men that had fought weeks before. Dellacriox and Samson, nervously hovering over them with their own bowls of food and tea, two brave souls attempting to break the barrier that everyone feared to approach.

“May we sit with you?” The larger one asked.

“Um… yeah.” Fiyero straightened his spine and curbed his thoughts as the two sat with them.

“I’m Dell.” The larger one rumbled, reaching out and shaking their hands.

“Yes, I remember you dropping me quite fuzzily.” Fiyero smiled. “You know how to make an impression. I’m Fiyero by the way.”

“River.” River shook their hands.

“No need for you introduction, everyone knows you.” Samson piped. “I’m from a bakery on Verbena, muscles here is from Beaumonde.”

“What do you do on Beaumonde?” Fiyero took a sip of his soup.

“I worked in an airworks factory.” He explained. “Know my way about engines.”

River fell back from the conversation as words triggered her mind.

Beaumonde. Factory. B.

“Samson’s the opposite, he knows his way around cookie dough.” Dell thumbed over.

“Bread dough, not too many cookies unless it was New Years.” Samson corrected.

B for bread. B for beans. Beans.

“Well there’s nothing wrong with that, the world needs bread, and it can’t be made in factories…” Fiyero noted.

Brains in the beans.

“There was a bread factory not too far from the airworks factory I worked at.”

Beaumonde factory beans.

“Really? They make bread in factories?”

Beamonde bean factory.

“Well, yeah. You never knew that? Where are you from?”

“Planet wise? I dunno, I think St. Albans.. or Athens… or Angel, something with an A. All I know is I was born, given a name, and suddenly appeared aboard a gypsy circus ship, where I was raised with warm, homemade bread that didn’t come off of a conveyor belt.” Beamonde Bean Can Factory.

“You were abandoned and taken in by gypsy circus folk?”

“I know, is sounds like the plot of a bad dime store novel, but it’s the truth. The truth complete with a garishly colored uniform that I will refuse to describe till my grave. Circus folk have a bad sense of fashion. Also, elephant dung was involved, not with the uniform, just with day to day life.”

River didn’t know why, but a piece to her mental puzzle was Beaumonde bean can factory.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why don’t we hunt bison?” Mal asked Inara as they rode past a vast herd. They weren’t as big as Shadow bison, yet they were massive and numerous.

“Good lord man.” A fellow by the name of Chuffery gawked at the idea. “Kill a bison? The Saluki’s can’t catch them, what would we do? Run alongside it and shoot?”

“Generally that’s how it’s done, yeah.”

Several riders turned to Mal. “You’ve, you’ve hunted bison before?” said one, all in awe as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Well yeah, not with bows and lances, but with rifles. I know you don’t think a gun’s sporting, but it comes in handy when your horse is running alongside an animal that weighs a metric ton that sort of wants to kill you.” Mal could see they were captivated, and began to think of a damn good hunting story to catch their attention.

“Sounds horribly dangerous.” A woman in a ruqun said with a tone that was excited.

“Seen men and horses trampled, it can be. Good meat though, better for you than cow, hides are handsome too.”

“They are.” Someone piped. “Khan Jogun flew to New Kasmir to buy art and picked one up. Looks positively dashing in his trophy room.”

There were a few scattered head nods and some ‘ahs’ by avid hunting enthusiasts.

Inara gave Mal a pleased smile for making friends.

“Xionglu!” Cadoc announced, the party’s eyes snapping to the sky. Sure enough, one of the falcons circled, and the others followed.

Suddenly there was an eruption of competitiveness. All of the nobles shouted for their hounds to be released as the Salukis strained and whined anxiously. The Serra hounds were the first to be unclipped, and dashed off, Inara spurring her Arabian and following through the dewy scrub grass. Mal was next, and Cadoc fell behind as he was more accustomed to another school of hunt. Eventually the other parties followed, but as Mal looked back briefly, he and Inara had considerable distance between the rest. His bay caught up alongside hers and he found the hounds were charging on without end in sight, nor prey.

*** *** *** TRANSLATIONS/DEFINITIONS Meimei: sister xiaoma shoulie: pony hunt elabai shoulie: arabian hunt Nin wei shen ma kuai zuozhei yangshi: Why would you do such a thing? ai wanju: love toy women yiwomen de gong huoma zhu wei ao: we take pride in our bow and horsemanship Haute ecole: 'Airs above ground' high school dressage Ling, fa bu lieying: Ling, release the falcon Shao Long: Young Dragon Xionglu!: Stag!

****As always, the writer appreciates all comments whether they be positive, negative, or suggestions.**