Amara

She sat in her room at the Yarruck Inn, hugging her legs on her bed.

In front of her sat a single candle. The wax slowly dribbled down the tip of the wick as she cupped her hand over the tiny flickering flame and twisted it this way and that.

Mom, she asked. Is this okay?

She stared into the fire as she heard her mother speak. But her reply was neutral, devoid of either her laughter or the power that usually reigned in her mind when Amara listened to the Voice.

Is it what you want, dear?

She brought her hands close to the flame and closed her eyes, feeling the power build between her fingers, but stay contained.

Is this part of how I unlock more power?

It’s not a matter of power. It’s a matter of what you want, darling. I can tell you what people and places are important on your path, but it’s up to you how you find your way.

"But I’m not sure," Amara said aloud in the dark, illuminated by only the single flame blazing between her palms.

No one ever is when it comes to this.

Amara’s hands suddenly cupped together – like magnets attracting through the force that flowed between them. Even as she knew they had just traveled through flame; she still felt a chill run down her fingerbones.

Then, standing up in the darkness, Amara made her decision.

…

Before she knocked, she felt the bizarre need to comb her fringe out of her face.

She knocked once.

No answer.

She looked around her and spotted virtually no one in the street. Nothing but snowcapped roofs and vacant windows.

She breathed deep the cold air and exhaled a small gout of flame. She turned around, feeling like a fool, and then she heard Anna’s voice call from above.

"Amara!"

She looked above and saw her hanging out the window, waving at her with a bare arm. "Go right in! I’ll just be a minute!"

She heard chuckling emanate from within the room and Anna quickly ducked back inside. Confused, but curious, Amara pushed open the door and stepped inside.

She readied a small marble of fire in her hand, keeping it behind her back, just in case.

But the house seemed regular enough. A fire was burning in the hearth by a simple dining table. On the walls a few nondescript paintings were hanging that Amara didn’t pay much heed to. She stood awkwardly in the room, her eyes glancing upstairs every now and then where she could hear giggling coming from somewhere up there.

She tugged at her cloak.

What was she doing here? The thought reigned in her mind as audible footsteps came from the room directly above her, pattering out onto the wooden stairs.

She fixed the being that entered her vision with a frown as he ambled merrily downstairs. It was a man – middle-aged with a belly barely contained by the belt buckle he was quickly fastening round his pants. He stroked his beard wistfully as his beady eyes looked over Amara and he continued on his merry way out the door. As he passed her Amara could smell the grotesque scent of the sweat that was glistening on his bald head and which clung to every pore of his body. He looked down at her and gave her a surreptitious wink just before exiting the house.

"Hey."

Amara shot round to see Anna standing at the top of the stairs, her tail curled round her half-naked body. She wore only a short white nightgown and was brushing her ears with a fine comb.

"You came earlier than I expected," she said. "Sorry about this. I must look a mess."

Amara felt her cheeks flush again.

"I don’t look any better," she replied.

Anna scoffed. "Are you kidding? I’d kill for long hair like yours! And the color is so vibrant. You just can’t look bad with hair like that, trust me."

Amara looked away.

"Who was that guy?" she asked.

"Oh, him?" Anna replied, slowly making her way down each step with nimbleness and perfect balance that only a feline could manage. "He’s just one of my clients."

Amara frowned. "What’s a 'client'?"

Anna considered for a moment before answering. Amara couldn’t shake the notion that she was being studied, somehow. That her lack of knowledge was in some way revealing. She felt naked under the eyes of this Tigran in a way she’d never felt before.

"Just someone who feels alone," Anna answered. "Someone who’s a little sad and wants some company."

Amara said nothing. She was looking at the cat-girl’s toes again, and moved away slightly when she felt her come closer.

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"Well, can I get you anything?" Anna chuckled. "Maybe something to drink? It’s not much, but my mom showed me how to brew a mean herbal tea. I’m quite an expert, if I do say so myself."

Amara’s reply was less than a murmur. "I like tea."

Then she felt her hands grabbed and the Tigran was dragging her towards the dinner table next to the hearth all in the space of a half-second, giggling away like a child at play.

"Ok – you’ll be my test subject then," she grinned as she sat Amara down. "This is an entirely new batch – made with freshly picked ingredients from the Yarrukian forest. I’ve even added some Elderberries for that sweet nectar-y flavor. You’re not allergic, right?"

Wide eyed, Amara just shook her head.

"'Kay!" she said. "Just checking – I’ve met humans who just can’t stomach Elderberry. I’ll be back in a minute so just make yourself at home."

She watched her skip into the meagre kitchen, her tail trailing after her.

Left in this room alone, Amara had no idea what to do. ‘Make yourself at home’ was a concept entirely foreign to her mind. She shuffled her feet, waiting for Anna to return, feeling only the warmth of the hearth.

A hearth being licked by crackling flames – the same type of hearth she’d walked by after she killed her father.

What am I doing here?

Mom didn’t respond – in fact, her presence had felt weaker today, somehow, and again Amara couldn’t shake the feeling of being entirely naked in this room.

And just like that, she shot upright and bolted for the door.

"Amara?"

She made it as far as the knob before she heard Anna’s voice behind her.

"You don’t know me!" Amara called back to her. "You don’t know anything about me. What do you want? Tell me now: what do you want from me?"

When she heard no reply, she thought about just turning the knob and bursting back out into the cold. Mother would understand. She knew her daughter well enough to let her make her own decisions. That was what she said, right? That was –

"Do you think that’s how it is? That everyone wants something from you?"

She turned back, though she kept her shaking hand on the door. And there, standing by the dinner table with a pot of steaming tea, Anna was looking at her with sorrow-filled eyes. No – not sorrow. Something else. Was it pity that lay behind that look? Or revulsion at her outburst? She couldn’t read this cat-person. But she had seen eyes like those before – the eyes of the slavers she’d slain in the forest glade just after her powers had awoken. The terrified eyes of the cat-woman that had melted under her hands.

"That’s always how it is."

"I’m sorry."

Amara let out a laugh, without even knowing why.

"Why say that? It’s just the way things are."

Anna’s lips tightened. "What if I told you that I could prove you wrong?"

"You can’t."

"Then why haven’t you left yet?"

Amara bit her lip and fought against the instinct building inside – the raging fire that existed to protect her. She could explode in an instant. Turn this whole place to cinders. But truthfully, that wasn’t why she came here. Something in the cat’s soft words made her exhale the fury that was forever raging inside her. She removed her hand from the knob.

"Hey," Anna said. "How about this: I promise I’ll answer your question. But first, you gotta drink this tea. Fair tradeoff?"

Amara didn’t nod in agreement, but she did walk back towards the chair, seating herself this time. As Anna produced two porcelain teacups and poured the fragrant liquid into them both, she watched her expression out of the corner of her eye. Still, there was something there she couldn’t place.

She looked at her reflection wobbling on the surface of her tea before taking the cup in both hands and risking a sip.

Her eyes flew open. The sweet taste of honey and tangy consistency of crushed berries melted together in her throat.

"How is it?" Anna asked with a grin.

Amara took a liberal gulp and wiped her lip on her sleeve.

"Good."

The toothy smile Anna flashed in response radiated the kind of ease Amara had never seen exhibited by another mortal. The Tigran took a few sips from her cup, nodded to herself, and placed it back on the table.

"Not quite how mom used to make it but, eh, it’ll do," she said.

Both girls sat in silence as they sipped their tea. Every now and then Amara chanced a glance in Anna’s direction and was met with her soft smile. The crackling of the wood burning in the hearth found her ears whenever she focused even for a few seconds on that smile, and she felt her diaphragm rise.

She gulped down another mouthful of tea and felt it soothe her parched throat. It gave her the courage to articulate her curiosity:

"You said you’d answer my question."

Anna sipped liberally from her tea, looking at Amara over its rim. Her feline eyes blinked twice and as she removed the cup from her lips Amara saw that she had dropped her smile. She stared into what remained of her drink.

'Well," she sighed. "What do I want from you? I don’t know. When I saw you this morning, I just felt like there was something I had to do. I looked at you and saw that you were alone. You didn’t want anyone. You didn’t want to feel anything. And then I just thought that you reminded me so much of me. How old are you, by the way?"

Amara shuffled in her seat.

"Fifteen."

"Yeah," Anna replied. "I thought so. I’m not much older, but I remember looking in the mirror when I was your age and having those exact same eyes. They were eyes that my mum used to say were like the tiny eyes of a stray kitten – an animal that’s never known love, suspicious of anyone and everything."

Amara kept her gaze on the dwindling milky liquid in her cup. Her hand grasped the handle, but she couldn’t pick it up.

"That was me," Anna continued. "I wouldn’t let anyone near me. I missed my mum, never knew my dad. I couldn’t trust any man or woman I met. I wouldn’t even look at people on the streets unless I felt they were a threat. I slept by myself – sometimes out in the cold, shivering for nights on end, picking up scraps I could from the towns I ran through. But that’s no way to live. No one deserves to live like that."

"You don’t understand," Amara told her teacup. "I’m never alone."

"Really? If that’s true, then now you have to answer my question: why are you here?"

Amara said nothing. She felt keenly the silence that was between them, and only let out the tiniest of gasps when she felt the Tigran’s soft hand place itself on hers. She did not recoil, she didn’t move at all. But now she was looking into Anna’s eyes.

"You know what I think?" She said. "I’ve been broken, and I’ve been hurt, and I had to put myself back together again piece by piece. I think you’re the same, Amara. I think you’re alone, and I think you’re broken. You can say I’m wrong if you want, and you can call me a stupid kitty and slam the door on your way out."

She thought about it. She thought about tearing that hand from hers and hurling a bolt of fire against the wall, sprinting through the hole she’d make in the process.

But the part of her that had woken up this morning, huddled on her bed like a confused child, wanted something else now. It didn’t really know what. Something different. Something new. There was a different kind of fire somewhere deep inside her now.

"Or," Anna said, fixing her in her gaze. "You can stay here with me. As long as you like. Because that’s all I want from you: I just want to help you heal."

Anna was whispering now, soft and tranquil. She might have moved a little closer, Amara wasn’t sure. But, coupled with the warmth radiating from her hand, Amara felt the world shrink into a narrow tunnel that contained only her, right here, right now. She saw everything in her face, down to the tiniest twitching of her thin whiskers.

"You’re a healer?" Amara heard herself ask.

Anna’s fingers stroked the inside of her arm.

"In a sense," she said. "I can show you, if you like."

And without breaking eye contact, Amara’s mind gave her little chance to think. She wasn’t even asking the Voice what it thought about this. Now, the tiny candle of her desire was enkindled to an inferno that was ready to burst. It was a flame that she knew could be beautiful – a new flame that she could only unlock with someone else.

Amara’s shaking index finger stroked back against Anna’s hand, and she let herself surrender to the fire within.

"Ok."