"No one can see Bjuienvold," the little sprite tittered to himself as he poked his head through the canopy. "Clever Bjuienvold." Below the great oak fairgoers milled and lazed in the shade. Bjuienvold snapped off a twig and aimed for a rotund man who was snoring contentedly with his mouth agape. The sprite's aim was true, the man, arms flailing, sputtered awake. "Silly humans." He ducked back into the canopy and plotted his next bit of mischief.

Nick sat at the rough wood table and enjoyed the sound of the rain on the corrugated tin roof of the open air bar. The quiet conversations of the of the locals, all in spanish, blended into the patter of the light shower. He knew enough of the language to know many were talking about him, an he felt their lingering gazes, but he focused on the rain and ignored the rest. The young man would not be deterred, he had an appointment to keep.

"Yoouuu?! ... Nooo!" Arakain staggered back as if he had been struck. One gnarled hand tightly gripped his equally twisted staff, while he threw his other hand out and fanned his fingers at the white robed man. Flames leapt out from bony fingertips in a gout of solidified hate and fear, but the torrent hit the resplendent figure and parted like a river around a boulder.

"It is no use Arakain!" The figure shook his head and the flames died.

The Lieutenant Colonel drummed his fingers on his desk as he read the report. Occasionally he lifted his gaze to glance at the three men and two women who stood at ease in front of his desk. The report offered the testaments of the five, which he scanned, but he wanted to hear it from the soldiers.

First, he was going to let them stew. He set the report down and looked into the senior soldier's - Captain Quinn's - eyes.

He sat alone at the bar, furiously scribbling on a scrap of paper. An electric tingle danced down Nick's spine. He looked up and into a pair of vibrant green eyes that sparkled even in the bar's gloom. The young woman smiled over her drink and suddenly the bar felt very warm.

The two sized each other up. The farmer stood with one finger hooked in his bib-overalls, and a faded John Deere hat pulled low over his eyes to keep the summer sun at bay. The young suburbanite stood on the other side other side of the fence, his faded jeans and un-tucked button-down were more out of place amongst the corn than a crop circle.

"Do not go!" Kala pulled her arm out of Gurn's grip and leveled the glare at her older brother. She had, until then, reserved such looks for worthless suitors, but she had had enough of her family's overbearing ways.

"You and this village may be content to hide under the dirt or quake in your hovels, but I am not." The second sun had appeared in the sky to the east and there it remained for six days now without setting. It scared everyone witless. No one but Kala had even discussed investigating it, and she had grown more determined as the days wore on. The quest to new sun would be her escape from her family and this miserable village. Only Gurn stood in her way.