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From the end of the Eye of the World:
"I'm going away, Egwene."
"Where?"
"Somewhere. I don't know." He did not want to meet her eyes, but could not stop looking at her. She wore red wildroses twined in her hair, flowing about her shoulders. She held her cloak close, dark blue and embroidered along the edge with a thin line of white flowers in the Shienaran fashion, and the blossoms made a straight line up to her face. They were no paler than her cheeks; her eyes seemed so large and dark.
"Away."
***
He was stalling, and he knew it. It had been a week since he had proclaimed to Egwene his resolve to leave Fal Dara, to travel on his own and find some place in which he could not harm a soul, once he went mad. Rand flinched at the very thought, but there was no avoiding that fact of the fate which had awaited every man would could channel since the Breaking of the World. He knew it, but he didn't have to like it.
He should leave. Shifting in the darkness of the men's quarters, Rand wrapped himself tighter in his blankets. In the morning, he thought muzzily, sleep once more approaching him. Something within his soul proclaimed then: no, not in the morning. If he decided on the morning, then he would find a reason to stay. He was also wary of Moiraine. Despite the fact that she was apparently ignoring him, he felt instinctively that she wasn't quite as oblivious as she made herself out to be. No, the Aes Sedai was never oblivious. She herself was one of the main reasons to leave. She knew what he was, and Rand was ever fearful that she'd suddenly abandon her illogical lack of action against him, and call upon her fellow Aes Sedai to gentle him. He shuddered in dread at the thought.
And his friends. He didn't want them to know, didn't want to see the horrible wariness and hidden fear that so often flashed in the eyes of Nynaeve and Egwene. Mat and Perrin must not know, and neither would anyone else. He would have to leave now.
Rand was decided now and he would not be diverted. Unwrapping himself from his blankets, he carefully began to pack, stuffing clothing and possessions into a sack, dressing quickly and strapping on his sword belt. Then he opened the door, and made his way forward.
***
The light of dawn saw him miles way from the keep, having made his way past the guards by simply telling them the truth. It was generally suspected that he was intending to leave soon enough, and Rand had told them that he was growing too fond in life in the keep, and intended to get a good head start upon the sun. They had thought it somewhat strange, but men travelling were out in the night in any case, and so starting in the night was no less dangerous, put in that context, than starting in the day. They had let him go with a 'Peace be with you' and a tightly shuttered gate behind him.
***
"He's what!" Moiraine Demodred was, for once, showing her absolute horror in both face and voice.
Rand al'Thor, the Dragon Reborn, potentially the most dangerous man alive, had slipped out from under her nose. She had thought herself clever, making him more manageable by ignoring him, thinking that he would let down his defences if she did not make herself clear. What she had done, in truth, was give him the perfect opportunity to escape.
"He's gone," al'Lan Mandragoran's voice was flat, cold, and hard, his eyes merciless.
Moiraine barely noticed. Rand needed to be found and returned to her. She was Aes Sedai, and had access to the most perfect method of hunting such a one as Rand. The Red Ajah. But she could not tell them of it, lest they discover the truth of her involvement, lest they perchance discover who Rand was, Lews Therin Telamon reborn to flesh, and gentle him on the spot. She would send soldiers, though, bounty hunters, what ever it took. Go after him herself. Yes, she would; she had to. The world balanced on the razor edge of the boy's recovery.
***
Months passed, and nothing surface. Trails were found, but came to dead ends. Soldiers, bounty hunters, Moiraine and Lan both failed to catch up to Rand. The ta'veren effect had been turned against the Aes Sedai, and no matter what she did, the boy eluded them. Egwene and Nynaeve had gone to the White Tower, to become Aes Sedai, after a failed attempt, by Trollocs and Darkfriends, to take the Horn of Valere, had been made. Siuan Sanche had taken the Horn to the Tower herself, after flying into a rage at Moiraine for the lose of Rand. Moiraine, knowing that Siuan was right, had snapped back with bitter words at the woman who had once been her friend, her co-conspirator, and was now, due to that lose and those words, a chilly, impassive enemy.
Mat Cauthon had been healed on his attachment of the Shadar Logoth dagger, and he and Perrin Abaya had gone off travelling, ready to make their way in the world, refusing to become involved with Moiraine's efforts to "put Rand back on an Aes Sedai leash." True, they were upset that their friend had left without them, but in another manner they were happy for him. Moiraine never told them the truth of Rand, and they never suspected.
The Horn of Valere remained in the Tower, the Darkfriends and Trollocs appeared with increasing frequency, and on the coasts, armies of beings called the Seanchan began to appear...
***
7 years after The Eye of the World...
Darkness advanced upon the world, but some things never did change. The Two Rivers remained the same backwater, friendly, close knit community that it had always been, waiting a year or more between bouts of news from the outside, celebrating Bel Tine and Sunday, laughing and living, seeing marriages and births, deaths, happiness and sorrow.
In the cool autumn breezes that swept over Emond's Field was carried those same tears and laughter, making their way inexorably to the Winespring Inn, in which Bran and Marin al'Vere sat in the dining room, talking with Tam al'Thor.
"How are the sheep lately, Tam?" the Mayor asked.
"They're fine, just fine," the shepard nodded, puffing on his pipe deeply for a moment.
Silence descended once more. Tam had never been the same since, years ago, Egwene had sent a letter from the White Tower to the man telling that Rand had disappeared, never to be found. Tam had cared deeply for his son, and though no body had been found, he was sure that if he were alive, Rand would have contacted him. Marin and Bran tended to agree. Mat and Perrin had visited their families once or twice, and Egwene sent letters, but there was no one to visit Tam. They shared in their friend's sorrow, both al'Veres having been fond of Rand themselves.
Tam took a sip of brandy, casting his eyes to the walls, nodding once more to himself. Marin stood and began to gather plates from the table, removing the evidence of their meal.
Without warning, the inn's door opened, and a shadowed man stood in the opening, his features obscured by the bright sunlight streaming in with him. He seemed to absorb that light, and so the slim form of the woman behind and to the side of him was barely noticeable. The man himself was very tall, broad shouldered, radiating power and control.
***
"Hello, Father," his deep voice, filled with that same power, rang through the room, sending arrows of shock through the inhabitants as Rand al'Thor strode inside.
Tam stood with wobbling legs, gapping in outright shock at the man before them, matured, hard faced and hard bodied, dressed in black embroidered with silver, off set by a rich green cloak. He looked a king, strong willed and self-assured, no one to be trifled with. Tam thought, vaguely, that he probably wouldn't have recognised this man as his son if he'd seen him a crowd.
"Rand?" he whispered, "Lad? Is it really you?"
"It's me," Rand replied, his face still hard as granite, despite the slight smile that snaked across it. The flesh seemed to resist that smile. Tam, though a hardened war veteran, could barely resist flinching as those blue-grey eyes bored into his own brown orbs. For a moment, he forgot that Rand was his son, and saw only a dangerous predator. Rand advanced, those eyes softening slightly, and engulfed him in a warm embrace, and the illusion vanished,leaving behind a trailing wariness.
This was his son, though! Hugging him tightly, with all the longing of the boy he'd once been, for home and hearth and family, pouring out of him, and into that crushing on strong arms. Tam hugged him back, and for a moment time seemed suspended. Rand, however, soon pulled back, turning to Bran and Marin, and smiled warmly.
"Master al'Vere," he nodded, "Mistress."
"Rand, lad," Bran whispered, shock radiating from him still.
"We thought you were dead," Marin said, more sturdily.
Without warning, the woman that Rand had walked in with spoke, calling attention to herself.
"Many believe that. In many manners," she smiled, "he is not so easily destroyed as that," her smile was enigmatic.
Tam's eyes widened, though he soon had control over his reaction. The woman was the most beautiful he had ever seen in his life, breathtaking, almost inhumanly attractive. Long, midnight hair highlighted pale skin, and slender limbs, swirling about her perfect form. Her eyes were dark velvet, her lips rich red, her hands, hanging at her sides, were long and slender, perfectly manicured. She wore a white gown, and a silver belt. Delicate silver embroidery lined the hem of her gown, and a simple silver band with a small stone, blacker than the blackest night, absorbing the light, adorned her left ring finger.
"Are you going to introduce us to your companion, Rand?" Tam asked, ignoring her strange statement.
"Of course," he said simply. "This is... Selene," he gave a slight pause, casting at the woman a strangely ironic, though loving, look.
"I'm his wife," Selene smiled at Tam, "And you must be my father-in-law. I've hear so much about you."
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