Chapter 34: Grounding Roots.

As the first light of dawn crept across Green Arbor, Ava moved with quiet determination, the envelope tucked against her chest, its weight heavier with each passing step. The market was just waking up, stalls being set up, and familiar faces greeting her with warm smiles. Ava returned the greetings, but beneath her casual demeanor, a storm brewed inside her—tangled thoughts of the unopened letter and what it could unravel.

Passing through the market, she offered a helping hand, lifting crates and sharing brief jokes with vendors, her actions automatic. Each interaction was a way to keep the turmoil at bay, a distraction from the uncertainty she wasn’t ready to face. Yet, every step, every exchange, only heightened the presence of the envelope and the question it held.

Her wandering led her to the training grounds, where the familiar sound of sparring filled the air—wooden swords clashing, instructors shouting commands, and the occasional grunt of determination. Talon was there, guiding a group of new trainees through the basics, his authoritative voice cutting through the noise with ease.

Spotting Ava, Talon excused himself and jogged over, his grin wide as always. “Good morning, Blondie. You look like you’re carrying the weight of the world on those shoulders,” he teased, giving her a playful nudge.

Ava chuckled, though the sound was a little strained. “I’ll manage,” she said lightly, but her eyes betrayed a deeper struggle.

Talon didn’t press her immediately, but his gaze remained attentive, sensing the undercurrent of unease in her. They both turned to watch the sparring trainees, the rhythmic thud of practice swords a familiar background noise.

"Feels good to be back?" Talon asked, his tone casual but laced with the intention of drawing her out.

Ava paused before answering, her eyes fixed on the combat before her. "It’s different," she admitted quietly. "I used to feel more grounded here. Now it’s like... I’m always waiting for the next call to leave. Like I don’t belong here anymore."

Talon nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. "We’ve never been ones to stay in one place for too long," he said, his voice thoughtful. "We’re meant to move, to face the unknown, to keep fighting."

Ava sighed, the weight of his words settling over her. "Yeah, the road feels more like home. But even that doesn’t feel right anymore."

Talon glanced at her, seeing the conflict on her face. “I know it’s not easy. But that envelope... you don’t have to open it right now. When you’re ready, you will. And when that day comes, I’ll be there with you. And if you’re never ready, well, I’ll still be there.”

Ava smiled softly, touched by his unwavering support. She turned to him, her eyes glistening with gratitude. “I know it came from a good place. Thank you, Talon.”

Without hesitation, she pulled him into a hug, a rare gesture between them but one that spoke volumes. Talon returned the hug, squeezing her tightly before pulling back. "I’ve got your back, always."

Ava nodded, the tension between them melting away in the warmth of their shared understanding.

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Talon, sensing the need to shift the mood, grinned mischievously. "Speaking of home, have you seen the cabin? It’s looking pretty good if I do say so myself. Got a roof and everything."

Ava raised an eyebrow, her interest piqued. "Really? And here I thought you were all brawn and no brains."

"Hey now," Talon replied with mock indignation. "You should check it out. It’s shaping up to be quite the place. Might even be ready for winter."

Ava laughed, the lightness returning to her step. "I’ll do that. Thanks, Talon."

Talon bumped her shoulder playfully as she turned to leave. "Just don’t get too comfortable without me!"

Ava waved him off, smiling as she headed towards the cabin, her heart feeling a little lighter, knowing that whenever she decided to face her past, she wouldn’t have to face it alone.

The cabin in the distance represented more than just shelter—it was a place to root herself, a symbol of the life she was trying to rebuild, piece by piece.

Ava stepped into the half-finished cabin, her eyes scanning the progress Talon had made. The roof provided shelter now, and the walls were beginning to form the structure of a home. Scattered tools and loose planks lay around, evidence of Talon’s chaotic work style. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she walked through the space, but her mind was elsewhere—back to the envelope weighing heavily in her pocket.

She sat down on the floor, her back leaning against an unfinished wall. The envelope was still there, tucked away, as it had been since Lucas handed it to her. Every step she had taken in Green Arbor since then had been shadowed by the thought of its contents, the weight of her past pressing against her with every movement.

Ava took out the envelope, staring at it, her thumb tracing the edges. Her fingers itched to tear it open, but every time she thought of doing so, memories of that night came flooding back—the fire, the screams, her mother’s face telling her to run.

She placed the envelope in front of her, the decision to confront it gnawing at her. Her heartbeat quickened as images flashed in her mind—the last moments of her village, the sounds of her friends crying, her mother being dragged away. Her father’s final words haunted her: *“Run, Ava. Take your friends. Don’t come back.”*

The more she thought about it, the more the room around her seemed to close in, the walls of the cabin tightening like the cage of memories she had buried deep inside. Her hands trembled as she reached for the envelope again, but instead of tearing it open, she recoiled. The past she had worked so hard to bury was clawing its way back to the surface.

Ava clutched her head, trying to block out the echoes of that night—the gunshot, her father’s voice, the cruel laughter that followed. Her chest tightened as if all the air had been sucked from the room, her vision blurring as tears welled up. She dropped the envelope and sank to the floor, her knees drawn to her chest, just as she had done as a frightened child.

Covering her ears, she tried to shut out the cries she couldn’t escape, just as she had so many years ago when she hid while her village burned. The weight of it all pressed down on her, threatening to crush her beneath the memories. She felt like that little girl again—alone, scared, running from a nightmare that wouldn’t end.

After a long, agonizing silence, Ava finally lifted her head, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She wasn’t ready to face it. Not yet.

With trembling hands, she searched the room for something—anything—to help her bury the past once more. Her eyes landed on one of Talon’s toolboxes, and she reached for it, emptying its contents. Slowly, she placed the unopened envelope inside, her hands still shaking. She pried up several floorboards and slid the toolbox beneath them, hammering the boards back into place with sharp, deliberate strikes.

Each hammer blow echoed through the cabin, a final act of sealing away the past. When she was done, Ava sat back, staring at the floor where she had hidden the envelope, her heart still pounding. She had buried it for now, hidden it away where it couldn’t hurt her.

But deep down, she knew it wasn’t gone. The ghosts of Shalewood would come back for her one day, and when they did, she would have to face them.

For now, though, it was enough. Ava stood, her body exhausted, and walked out of the cabin, leaving the secrets of her past locked beneath the floorboards.