It hadn’t taken too long for Lew and Zecora to gather up the most important supplies on a pallet, ready to carry back to his camp. It had taken the better part of a day and a half to actually carry it all the way back. But it had been worth it--ammunition, a few medical supplies, cheap but edible food from back home…

And still, it had all been forgotten as soon as the camp got a good look at Zecora herself.

The Royal Guard was a coed regiment, like all the Torani military. However, like most, it was still made up mostly of men. Men who were either single or hadn’t seen their wives and girlfriends in many months. Despite being entirely devoted to his wife, Lew could still recognize Zecora’s exotic, animalistic and sexual pull.

In retrospect, he told himself, bringing back most of the pirates’ beer had likely been a poor choice on top of that. But he knew the men needed to let off steam.

Besides, his princess had told him--it was traditional to feast and celebrate during important matters of state. And what could be more important than the discovery of a new culture and allying with them?

At first his princess had been furious with him, especially when he came completely clean in what his little scouting operation had amounted to. Luna had chewed him up one side and torn him down on the other. The effect on morale, the unnecessary risk, the lack of proper leadership in the camp…

He had unwisely mentioned that she had the commanding rank whether he was there or not.

She had ranted and rebuked him for another solid hour before he was finally able to introduce Zecora--still dirty, sweat and blood caked and matted over both her and himself. But true to form, Luna had given the native warrior a bone-cracking hug, before welcoming her and her people to the camp at any time. She had ordered a feast be prepared and celebrations begun.

After passing out the short straws for who would be skipping to keep guard, Lew had finally gotten himself to a bath. He grumbled as he made his way to the tiny, cramped soldiers’ baths--Luna had allowed Zecora access to her private tub, a strange luxury that had come with the ship. Despite being a seasoned warrior worth the battle scars she carried, well used to living on spartan surroundings, Luna allowed herself a few comforts here or there.

Scrubbed clean and still damp, Lew found one of the few spare uniforms that was being unused. It was a bit tight around the chest, but would serve while his own custom job was being cleaned and repaired. It felt especially nice to be back in traditional uniform, especially as the heat was still strong, despite the setting sun.

As he walked back to the mess tent, a smile found its way to his lips. Everyone was already celebrating and looking far more relaxed for it. Though usually straight laced, Lew had relaxed his standards and allowed the men triple beer rations. He suspected many would go over, but enough of the Guard didn’t drink that he wasn’t worried.

Despite the short time they’d been back, it seemed Zecora had been busy telling the men what was edible and where the hunt was. Already he saw the strange chameleon-like gulags being spit and roasted; beside them a peculiar squirrel-looking beast, its skin mottled green and grey and brown, like the trees around them. A few fruits and various plants sat gathered in baskets, the cook, Marls, examining and experimenting with the new varieties Zecora had shown.

He stopped and checked in with everyone, one by one. Though not always possible, Lew had always preferred a personal touch to his command. The captain could name each of his men, easily. As well, he had at least a basic knowledge of their capabilities, training specializations, rank, and experience.

That hit hard, as he shook hands and shared a few drinks. Some of his closest friends had been on the Guard with him for years. Many of those were gone--while he had simply transferred to get away from Celestia’s madness, they had gone AWOL. He both understood and couldn’t comprehend their choice. Either way, he missed them.

He missed his little sister, too. The young woman had really taken the country by storm, Celestia’s chosen protege or not. She was scary intelligent, and very capable, but he had been relieved when she’d made such wonderful friends at Mansfield. Knowing they would have his sister’s back, he honestly could say he wasn’t too worried for her. Despite their age differences, Twily had always been one to keep her head screwed on right when things went a little crazy.

But above all that he missed his wife. Cadance. Capable though she was, he was worried about her. Nearly terrified. It hadn’t helped that they had more or less been married right after a terrorist attack had nearly killed them--from day one, he had been a bit overprotective. Now with so much of the world going mad, turned on its head… What could they trust anymore? Everything that seemed so certain, so sure, had proven unreliable, false.

Before he had left, there had been rumors from the Crystal territories. Whispers of the return of the Cult of Sombra he had dismissed immediately--his sister and her friends had made sure they’d never be able to terrorize anyone ever again. But he didn’t dismiss the idea that Celestia might try and use his wife as leverage against the north. They loved their marchioness dearly and would likely do anything to protect her.

He briefly wondered how bad the nightmares would be tonight. The thought that he had failed in his most important duty--protecting his own wife--terrified him. He thanked Elondrie for the training that allowed him to use that fear to push him forward. He had other duties he needed to focus on, he told himself. Luna was even more important, in the long run, as Torani’s last legitimate heir to the throne. When Celestia was deposed, they’d need her to avoid a likely civil war.

The young man stopped and wondered just when his mood had turned so black. Looking around, he saw again the cheer and merrymaking going on--and here he was, thinking of Torani’s first civil war as likely. Roughly, he patted at his cheeks before pinching and pulling. Yes, he was awake. Why, then, did reality feel so false?

Ignoring his own headspace as well he could, he pressed on. That could all wait. Right now, he had to make sure things were going well with Luna and Zecora. He wondered exactly where the pair were. Everyone was intermingled, with food, drink, and entertainment spread throughout the camp.

But despite the chaos of the camp, there was one sound, now that he was paying attention, that was entirely too constant.

A loud cry of voices, somewhat muffled by the rest of the camp, was chanting, “Drink! Drink! Drink!”

He sighed, both amused and dreading what he would see. “Yeah, that sounds about right,” he said, readying his belt as he headed towards the infirmary tent. That made sense, he realized--it was the largest clear space they had set up, thankfully empty.

It didn’t take long to reach the tent, or rather the gathered mass of Guardsmen surrounding it. They were still chanting, most holding their own bottles and scrappy tin mugs. It took some effort to be heard, but when he managed to catch the attention of a few of the men, they let him inside the circle.

There had been a great many preconceptions of Princess Luna that Lew had dismissed very quickly. He recalled swapping stories with his sister’s experience with Celestia--they had never fully agreed on which of the royal siblings were more unlike the public’s image. With Celestia, it was usually in regards to her tenacity and physical capabilities. She was a fighter herself, despite the constant diplomat of peace look so well known by everyone.

With Luna, it was a bit different. Everyone expected her to be rough and tumble; they knew of her fighting prowess, even of her slight disconnect with most people due to her isolated upbringing and being controlled by the traitor, Dorcas. The illusion was just how far she took it.

Most of it was fairly standard military fair, in Lew’s experience. A preference for male clothing, for civvies instead of more regal wear due to her position. A distaste for the finer things in entertainment and dining. Barring a few examples, Luna was fairly standard in that regards.

There were two areas in particular she pushed the envelope however. One was in her truly incredible combat talents. The other was in her capacity for drink.

Which was why, when he pushed through the circle to see his princess and their guest sitting across from one another from a simple wooden table, bottles of all sorts and shapes emptied in front of them, downing yet another to the cheers of the onlookers, he held no surprise and instead raised his own cheer. After all, he thought, why fight the fun?

Zecora reared her head back and loudly laughed on catching sight of the guard. She raised her glass and tapped at the empty container, silently gesturing for another. “Well look who’s come--our little Lew! Sit down with us and drink your brew!”

Lew was going to politely decline--the sheer number of bottles was somewhat intimidating--but a few shoves from the Guardsmen behind him, followed by a mixture of cheers and catcalls, made him reply, instead, “I’d love to, but I’m a bit behind you two.” He moved forward, pulling over another chair. To Luna he said, “Evening, Princess. I see you and Zecora hit it off, huh?”

With a gasp of satisfaction, Luna slammed down another emptied bottle and wiped at some running down her chin. “Oh very much so, Captain. Unlike you, she knows how to celebrate properly during times like these!”

He raised an eyebrow, giving a faked hurt look. “I had to shower, then post sentries, then ensure the supplies got around, then--”

“Oh do hush, Captain,” the princess said, sliding him a bottle. “This is cause for much joy! Drink! Relax, or you’ll bore us all to sleep.”

“It’s true, young soldier--drink your beer! There is no shame in relaxing here!” Zecora added as a man quickly moved over and handed her another cup. She extended it towards the Princess of the Night. “Seems we both have another round. Do you have the stomach to wash it down?”

“Uh, Zecora, I wouldn’t--” Lew tried to say before Luna let out a raucous laugh.

Hefting the cup, she cried, “I’ve bested every man who’s ever tried. Such a pretty thing as yourself won’t break that streak. The night is young, and the night is mine, so bring another!”

She smirked. “Within me, you’ll find a threat. Perhaps we can spice up the drinking with a bet?”

Lew choked on his drink, sputtering, “Y-you mean you’ve not been doing that already?”

The princess looked thoughtful. “You’re right--we were so enthused, we forgot to set the stakes.” She looked at the gathered crowd. “I suppose the obvious is some sort of childish game involving disrobing.” The crowd cheered their support for the idea. Luna wickedly smirked at Zecora. “But you and I can establish much stricter terms, I’m sure? As you are tonight’s guest of honor, I must ask: did you have something in mind?”

The tribal quirked a brow and coyly smiled. “The thought of you bare is quite the tempting one. Seeing your... battle scars is my idea of fun.” She put a considering hand to her chin and crossed her thighs. “Though as a rule along this coast, the plotting of entertainments go straight to the host.”

Rubbing her palms together eagerly, the princess gave a hearty laugh. “Never let it be said the Torani are ungracious to their guests, least of all Luna Orlaith. Now…” She rubbed her chin in thought, occasionally glancing at Lew. The gleam in her eye made him uncomfortable. “If I claim victory, you’ll take the frilliest outfit we have for a day. The captain here can borrow your own clothing, just to make sure.”

Lew sputtered, “W-wha—why d-do I—”

“Call it punishment for bringing an ally who doesn’t measure up, dear captain,” Luna replied, her tone brooking no refusal.

“Lew wearing this would be quite the sight!” Zecora announced cheerfully, running her thumbs behind the straps of her bra. She leaned forward, shaking her hand. “But I plan to win you tonight.” She pointed at the princess. “If I win this match of drinking brew, there is a plant I want from you. A flower with petals, a heartfelt blue--it is what you must accrue.” Zecora playfully winked over at the captain of the guard, looking quite pleased with herself. “I’m sure you know of the plant? Of why the Maidenlife I want Luna’s hand to grant?”

Instead of responding, Lew reached carefully to his satchel and pulled out the flower he had plucked a few days before. “This one, right?” he offered, setting the mostly intact bloom on the table. “Didn’t you say that was for—”

Zecora quickly interrupted him, reaching over to put a hand over his mouth. “That is the other part of this betting’s rule. Tell her its secret after I receive it, you fool.” She dropped her hand and her gaze turned cat-like and predatory as she stared intently at the woman seated across from her. “If it’s brought to me, I’ll consider it a sign. A creature of beauty I want to make mine.”

Lew was about to speak up, but Luna pounded the table hard, throwing a hand towards Zecora, and said, “Let the agreement be shook upon! I accept the terms, and declare the best warrior shall come out on top.”

“On top you say?” she repeated, grinning coyly and taking the woman’s hand. “I find that idea quite ok.”

Luna blinked, but shook it off as she shook Zecora’s hand vigorously. “Splendid! Men--more drink, double quick!”

A chorus of, ‘Yes, ma’am!’s roared painfully in Lew’s ears as he tried to stop what he felt was a situation spiraling quickly out of control. He looked at the native woman, grinning fiercely and making banter with Luna. Or was it small talk? It was hard to tell, between the dark tone of her skin and the already impressive amount of alcohol they had consumed, but he almost thought she was flushed with excitement.

Though he wasn’t sure if whatever was going on was a good idea, he had no choice to give it up. The princess was as stubborn as stone on the best of days--Zecora seemed just as hard, if not harder. Besides, he told himself, there was no telling what tomorrow would bring. With their newfound ally, Lew was feeling much better about their chances.

But even still, their information was too limited. And not only here in the Rim, he wondered what was happening back home in Torani. Though Luna needed to find assistance from abroad before returning, Lew feared they might be too late. If Celestia were able to unify all of Torani under her tyranny, fortifying its borders against invaders… Or worse, if she sent out forces to assassinate the dark princess before she could even return.

As fast as he could, Lew grabbed the nearest full bottle he saw. Twisting the cap off with one practiced stroke, he downed the whole thing, then grabbed another.

The last night to celebrate, he told himself. Make it count and worry about the fate of everything later.

After the third downed bottle, his men had brought the remaining stores of alcohol Zecora and he had captured. Moving it to a spot between the princess and the queen, Lew got up and placed an equal number of bottles in a line in front of both of them.

“Alright, men! Listen up and I’ll lay out some ground rules,” he declared loudly. “This’ll be speed and quantity. Rounds of four bottles each--we keep doing rounds until one of you can’t finish or fails to finish within two minutes of the other. Agreed?” He looked at each competitor in turn and received a nod. “Where’s our food?! I can’t judge on an empty stomach!”

As plates of steaming lizard-flesh were brought in, Lew scrounged up a stopwatch from someone and began the competition. The crowd of Guardsmen threw up their hands and cheered.

It was going to be a long night.

The room was moderately large. Too large for a simple living room, the table reaching from nearly one end to the other suggested it might have served as a dining room at one time. But whatever purpose it might have had before, it was being used for something very different now.

Instead of silverware, or perhaps plates of steaming hot dishes, the entire length was taken up by an enormous model. The rise and fall of craggy ridges was offset by stretches of wavy blue and smooth green; smaller models of trees were clumped here or there, nestled between grey monolithic cities and small, crooked blue river markers. On closer inspection, a few wooden huts seemed to mark various towns and villages nestled in the remoter corners of the model.

Lew realized it was a map of Torani when he saw Mansfield scrawled in a fine hand underneath one said village marker. With his realization, marks began appearing on it before his eyes. A barren, rocky plain would be starred then connected to the nearest city with a straight, dark line ending in an X. Grey blocks were dropped upon the surface and scooted, gathered, rearranged. Notes were scribbled along the lines, directing the blocks--which, he realized, represented troops, supplies, and armor.

They really were little more than scribbles, but Lew squinted and leaned close. They appeared and disappeared, moving, attacking, defending, jumping from place to place. He wasn’t able to catch any details, but after a moment, he leaned back and looked at a distance.

There. He could see a pattern emerging. Ignoring the various feints and softening attacks, the lines and notes seemed to be directing the flow towards the greatest concentrations of population before spreading out like a spider’s web and covering all. Tracing back, he found the magnificent crystalline piece they originated from. Glowing a sickly green but laced with cruel black, it was a perfect replica of Orleith Castle in Camelot.

The map began to be overtaken by a disgusting green fungus; tracing along the paths and following the scribbles to the letter, it spread and covered, growing and consuming the model one inch at a time. Too late, he noticed that it had spilled over in places, only to continue growing on the room’s floor.

He screamed, turning to run towards the door, but found there was no exit. The walls had turned from a pleasant burgundy wallpaper to gunmetal grey, solid and inescapable. And still the green grew on. It had devoured the table, breaking it down with splintering pops and an unnerving grinding sound--the rivers and lakes dried up and filled with mold; the forests were broken and shattered; the mountains milled to rubble, then dust.

Lew huddled in a corner, backing as far away as he could. His mind raced with questions. How did he get here? Where was he? What had happened to Luna and his Guard? Was… was this a dream?

A dream! He laughed, manic and panicky, as he began pinching himself, then hitting himself, then slamming his head against the wall. Why… wouldn’t… he… wake!?

Creeping, silent and deadly, the mold filled the room, crawling up the walls and along the ceiling, expanding to fill the entire space. Lew felt his lungs begin to burn, the room’s oxygen thinning fast. His pounding and thrashing slowed just as he felt the wetness of his own blood, splattered across the wall and dripping down his face. He slid down, leaving a messy trail, and fell into a gasping ball on the floor.

As the air ran out, he let out one silent scream, the mold stopping just before gathering and smothering him in a massive wave. Despite the pain and his lack of air, Lew threw a hand out, trying desperately--vainly--to save himself from the all-consuming parasite.

Launching up and out of his bed, Lew instinctively grabbed his sword, lying unsheathed and ready beside his pallet, and swung blindly. Fear and the lizard part of his brain craving survival filled the blow with more strength than he would ever use.

A painful shock against his arm and an ear-shattering clang brought the captain into full consciousness. He blinked several times, working the fuzziness of sleep out of them.

Before he could tell it was still too dark to see, he heard an amused laugh, followed by, “Terrors in the Night? How unfitting for my captain, don’t you think?”

“L-Luna?” Lew asked. “What’re you do--what time is it?”

“Early. Or rather, late,” she replied, telling him nothing. “We must away, captain. Or did you plan on standing here until dawn testing my sword arm?”

“What?” Looking, Lew saw he had grabbed his sword and swung at his imagined attacker. Luna had brought up her own--still mostly sheathed--and was holding him back, his blow aimed right for her exposed neck. She had a loose, relaxed grip on her sword, showing how terribly easy it had been for her to check his overpowered slice.

Lowering the weapon, he knelt and found his sheath. “Forgive me, lady. I drank far too much last night.” As if waiting for the cue, his head pounded and his body ached. He still felt a little tipsy, even--how long had he been asleep? He remembered something Luna had said…

“Did you say before dawn?!” he exclaimed.

Again her amused laugh. “About two hours, at my guess. But with the way this confounded Rim changes day to day, I may be off. No matter, we should have plenty of time to complete our task.”

“Our task?” Lew asked, his brain still trying to catch up.

“Are you so addled, captain?” Luna asked, tsking in disappointment. “You barely imbibed a third of what Zecora and myself managed. Such a shame we ran dry…”

As she berated him, Lew began recalling the previous night. He remembered the call for a drinking competition, which he had gotten dragged into. The princess and their guest, Zecora, had kept up with one another long after Lew had been forced to stop, lest he blackout. While they had finished the stores taken from the pirates, Zecora had snagged the last beer, and thus claimed victory.

He stiffened. “You mean the bet? To get that flower?”

“Just so,” she replied with a nod. “Let us be on with it, captain. The night is waning.”

Lew thought about all the reasonable responses he could give. He also wondered how his princess was even standing, let alone seemingly stone cold sober. Finally, he just rubbed at the sweat on his brow and began gathering up his clothes.

Quickly wrestling into his clothes, he picked up the all-enveloping cloak he’d made and began the tedious process of donning it.

Luna laughed. “Must you wear that ridiculous gown of yours?”

His voice was muffled by layers of cloth as he replied, “It’s not a gown, it’s camouflage! I don’t see why you can’t appreciate how effective it is.”

Luna sniffed. “Effective, perhaps. Tis still a gown. And it takes far too long to don. Swiftness, captain. We mustn't tarry.”

“I know, I know, I’m done. I still don’t understand why we have to do this now.” He began wrapping the long scarf-like mask around his face as they exited his tent. “Zecora said the flower was rather rare in this area. I know it’s probably one of the brightest bits of color on this island, but at night? It’ll be nearly impossible to find.”

The princess waved a dismissive hand. “A better challenge is merely a surprise treat. No, I have better reasons.”

“Better reasons?”

She nodded. “Quite. Frankly, captain, I’m bored. My blood cries for battle! Barring that, I think it will settle for some exploration.” She stopped, gesturing to the camp around them. “I have already commanded the camp moved to Zecora’s village. They need me not for such a trifle. In the meantime, you and I shall find this flower as we scout out the enemy.”

Nearly awake, Lew easily saw the sense. “OK, that I get. But, Princess…” How did he explain what the flower meant to Zecora’s people? I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it, he told himself. “Aren’t we a little under-equipped?”

Giving him a flat look, Luna replied, “What a green question. How unsuitable. If your hands are not enough, then, by all means, visit the armory first.”

“Yes, Princess,” Lew grumbled, adding, “A sword hardly counts as your hands.”

In short order, he visited the so-called ‘armory’, grabbing one of the better spare handguns and his rifle. After a few seconds of consideration, he loaded a few throwing knives under his sleeves. Lew was terrible with them, but still--his instructor had always said you could never carry enough knives.

Finished, he rejoined the princess at the edge of the camp, where she had been performing a few warm up exercises.

“Sorry for the delay, Princess. I’m ready.”

She nodded, saying nothing, and headed into the jungle, Lew following.

It didn’t take long for both to work up a sweat. The night didn’t hold the heat like the day, but the humidity was still intense. Zecora had said it was signs of a massive storm brewing, likely before a cold snap rolled in. She had gone on to explain that the weather, while violent, was hardly unpredictable. Though she had tried to explain in more detail, Lew hadn’t been able to keep track of all the minute signs and omens. He hoped the storm would wait long enough for them to find the flower and Zecora’s village.

The sky was clear. He told himself that was a good sign. Luna’s namesake was a tiny sliver, leaving the night itself darker than he was entirely comfortable with. He moved as quick as he could, avoiding roots and rocks and other dangers, but he was quickly falling behind Luna. Maybe those rumors of her being able to see in the dark are true.

“Captain,” she called suddenly, stopping long enough to let him keep up. When he did, she moved on, but slower, so he could run next to her. “I must be open with you, Shields. I recruited you for another purpose: Your advice on what course we should follow.”

“You want to talk, Princess?” he asked, curious. Luna was always so confident in her own abilities and decisions; Lew had never seen her ask anyone else for an opinion on what she should do.

Nodding, she said, “You’re the Captain of my Royal Guard. You’re the only other soul I can talk to, in this situation.” Closing up, she pushed forward with a grim look on her face.

The pair moved on in silence, Lew waiting for his princess to speak rather than trying to drag anything out of her. He knew she must be fighting with her own pride. Ever since his sister and her friends had saved her from the traitor, Dorcas, she had been fighting years of training and skillful brainwashing to try and fit into Torani society. It was slow going, but she had made much progress until Celestia’s own betrayal.

Since then, she had been even more taciturn and slow to trust than before. What was worse, it had shaken her to the core--she had been the warrior princess. Celestia the diplomat. Now that seemed to have been turned on its head. Lew suspected it was harder for her than anything she’d done before and didn’t mind giving her her time.

They stopped at what seemed likely spots, both searching through the underbrush for any sign of the blue flower. After turning up nothing four times, Luna cleared her throat and, somewhat awkwardly, asked, “In all honesty, Captain, what would you do?”

“Me? Well, uh…” He scratched the back of his head, thinking. “Well, your Guard is still somewhat new. Well trained, but somewhat inexperienced. Combined with our persona non grata status in all of Torani and her closest allies, we’re about as dangerous to Celestia as a kitten. We need help, Princess. Badly.”

“As detestable as it is, I can see the wisdom in the statement, Captain. But from where?”

Hesitantly, he replied, “The only place we can go--Kvaan. Now, hear me out!” he cried at her heated and disbelieving look. “Rocky as relations have always been with them, the current Warlord was still more or less considered allied with Torani. The old Torani. Considering how they’re being set as the badguy in this whole mess, it wouldn’t take much convincing for them to back us up.”

“Or,” Luna said sardonically, “to bind us in irons and throw us to ransom.”

“It’s a risk,” Lew agreed,” but a calculated one. This is civil war, Princess. Working with a possible enemy is likely going to be the easiest risk to take in the coming days.”

Letting out a tired sigh, Luna finally gave a half-hearted nod. “Unfortunately, I sense you’re more right than you could possibly understand, Captain.” She started walking on, darting through the trees as they headed towards the coast. “I…” She hesitated, dumbfounding Lew. She never hesitated. But after a few more moments of silence, she went on. “I feel so tired, Captain. The seasons have barely cycled more than once since my homecoming--that is all the time I have been able to enjoy reuniting with my sister before...before her madness.”

Stopping, the princess let out a deep sigh. “Sir Shields, I was...happy. With my dear sister, and the others of the castle. And when your sister and her friends visited? All the opportunities they assisted me in adjusting to normal life…” She laughed, and it was true laughter. “Such fun as I had never known in all my life!” Then her face fell, and she was silent.

After seeing she couldn’t quite continue, Lew offered, “And then it all came crashing down. Celestia began acting strangely, taking the whole court with her. Even the city started changing. Twila and the others stopped visiting. All the good in your life, still so new, was pulled away.”

Closing her eyes, Luna gave a curt nod. “Indeed, Captain. Too true.” Lew knew he must be imagining the slight tremor in her voice, the hollow tone that marked a fighting of tears.

Feeling somewhat awkward, he quickly gave the princess a strong clap on the back, forcing out a laugh and saying, “Well, that’s what why we fight, right, Princess? To get it all back.” For a moment, she looked thoughtful, but then she began giving him a harder look as she noticed his arm still on her back. Nervously, he started walking forward, calling over his shoulder, “And the first step is this flower. It’ll be dawn soon, so we should probably get going, right?”

She began walking, replying, “Right you are, Captain. Lead the way for a spell--I grow weary of doing your job.” Her tone was back to its usual self--strong, somewhat superior, with a half-serious mock to push him harder. Lew was glad to see her back to her old self.

But for a brief moment, though it was too dark to be absolutely sure, Lew thought he saw a glimmer of pale light at the edge of her eye as she cracked a girlish smile.