Voila!! Here is chapter 2! Have a great weekend! A. R. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~      Smalls stared into the fire that evening, his heart still racing. That meeting had only been a few hours ago, but he still felt light and carefree. Well, almost carefree. He still had to actually propose to Heather, and before that, he wanted to ask Picket and Jacks. He sighed, chuckling to himself. Didn’t think there would be any other work other than recovering and rebuilding, he thought to himself. But he sobered.      “How on earth am I going to pull this off?” He muttered to himself, slouching against the back of the couch. A knock on the door startled him. Or maybe it was an answer? He tried to figure out who it would be as he got up and crossed the room to the door. Lord Blackstar? No, he was planning on hanging out with Heyna and Cole. Mother? No, she should be resting. The Pilgrim? All these names flew around his mind, but they all dropped like flies when he opened the door.      Emma.      She tried to smile but it was lost in the attempt. Her bright, usually cheerful eyes were clouded over and sad. What happened, Smalls wondered as he motioned her inside. He helped guide the seemingly frail doe to a chair and brought up a tattered footstool to sit on, looking worriedly at his sister. Her hands were folded limply in her lap. She stared into the fire for a bit, her expression unreadable and unchanging. Smalls waited, wondering if he should go find Maggie Weaver, or even Heather! He was about to suggest it when Emma turned suddenly and looked at him, her gaze steady.      “How was it?” She asked. Smalls raised an eyebrow. “What?” Emma gave him a stern look. “You know what. I’ve known since you and Heather returned at the end of the war.” Smalls sighed. “Its not over, there is still lots to recover and rebuild.” Emma frowned, either at what he said, or what was unsaid. Smalls looked up at her. “But how are you?” He asked gently. Emma turned back to look at the fire, saying nothing. Finally, after at least a minute, she spoke.      “Its not what I expected it to be,” she began. Smalls tried to decipher her statement. “The aftermath?” He asked, bewildered. She slowly nodded. Then, it dawned on him. Picket. He looked back at her and could read the hurt in her eyes. He had known that she liked him, he could tell by the way they would needle each other back at Cloud Mountain and Halfwind Citadel. But then…      Then everything happened. The war had sped up, things fell into place, things took place, and anything and everything changed. And so did Picket, he thought to himself. Emma raised a hand and wiped her eyes, sniffling a bit. “I didn’t come here to cry, so I’ll just be forward with it. Did Whittle and Sween Longtreader give you their permission?” She asked, her voice wavering. Smalls swallowed. “They did.” He answered quietly, not sure he wanted to express his joyful news when he discovered the hollow sorrow in his sister’s heart.      Emma smiled, a single tear rolling down her Auburn and white spotted face. “Good. That’s good.” She commented, nodding her head slowly. Smalls looked at her with brotherly affection and squeezed her hand. “Are you going to be alright?” He asked. Emma smiled and nodded, sniffing again. “Yeah. I’ll be fine.” She met his gaze and some of her spunk returned to those blue eyes. Any buck would fall head over heels for her, Smalls was certain. But there always would be that one buck.      Emma stood up quickly and smiled, more brightly, and managed to sound happy. “I’m happy for you, Smalls. Heather couldn’t deserve anyone better.” Smalls smiled. “Even better than a prince?” Emma smirked. “Yeah, even better.” She kissed his cheek before leaving the room, a whispered “good night” echoed faintly in his ears as she left. Smalls looked at the fire, dying down to golden and amber embers. He thought of Emma and Picket, and Weezie, and hoped that they all would be happy, whatever came their way.