Ren and I continued walking for a while after my talk with Birch, setting a leisurely pace as we basked in the lazy sunlight. It was a peaceful journey, with a gentle wind blowing through my hair, the squeak of gravel underfoot lulling me into a soft trance, and an open expanse of plain greeting my eyes. It was a freeing, unoppressive sight. And it reminded me of exactly why I needed to work hard in this world: so that I could keep this feeling alive forever, and never have to return to the constrictions of my life on Earth.

Another, and more glaring, reminder of why strength was of utmost importance came not long after I’d had the thought.

We spotted, from quite a distance, a gathering of what had to be two or three of the troupes of Tesserpine people, which immediately told me something was wrong. The groups travelled fast, and they had quite a bit of distance between them, so it didn’t make sense for them to gather at a single spot unless something had stopped them.

Ren and I quickly caught up with the crowd, most of whom were just standing there, holding the reins of whatever animal was carrying their things, and generally looking very angry.

The atmosphere was tense, even from the back of the crowd, where me and Ren couldn’t even see what was happening at the front. I could hear raised voices, but couldn’t quite make out what they were saying.

Ren and I threaded our way through the crowd until I spotted Birch standing in the middle of the crowd. I quickly made my way over to her and whispered, “What’s going on?”

Birch turned to me, surprise coloring her face before recognition set in. “Ah, little Red,” she said, before lowering her voice to a whisper. “You shouldn’t be here, girl. The roadmen won’t bother you if you make it clear you’re not with us. Just hang back a bit until we clear out, ok?”

I shook my head at her suggestion. “What’s going on, Birch?” I asked in concern.

Birch smiled sadly. “Officially? Road taxes. But in practice, it’s just highway robbery. They’ve made a habit of targeting us because we’re weak, desperate, and have plenty of goods.” She sighed heavily. “Such is the way of life. The destiny of the weak.”

Something about the acceptance in her tone irked me. I shook my head again, in anger now. “Maybe so, but not this time. Not when I’m here.”

Birch grabbed me by the hand before I could move, looking at me with worried eyes. “Red, I’m touched, but please, don’t bother. We’ve been dealing with this for a long time; we know how to handle it. We expected it, in fact. And besides, they’re strong, Red. Mages, all of them.”

I smiled at the old lady. “I know, Birch. But I’ve worked for a long, long time for this exact reason, Birch. Because I despise the 'destiny of the weak.' Please, let me help.”

The lady didn’t respond, but she slowly let go of her grip on my arm. I smiled reassuringly at her, before making my way through the crowd to the front, Ren in tow.

I stepped forward and out of the crowd with confident steps, attracting the attention of everyone at the front almost immediately. I didn’t speak at first, slowly taking stock of the situation while keeping up a confident posture.

There was a young boy – a Tesserpine boy, judging by his attire – who’d been knocked to the ground, and a middle-aged man half-clad in knights armor who stood above him. Behind the knight man stood half a dozen others, armored in leather in lieu of their commander’s steel. They all sported smug looks of schadenfreude, clearly enjoying their work.

At least, they had been, but my presence had interrupted their extortion, and confusion had overtaken their expressions. Slight wariness appeared next, as they took in my armor and the pole tied to my back.

“Who are you?” the leader asked in a gruff, authoritative tone.

“I’m Ruby. Ruby Redthorn. And who are you?”

The man straightened up slightly. “I’m a Captain of the Wolfhaven guard. And this is official business, so move on, missy.”

I raised an eyebrow at his words. “A captain’s official business includes roughhousing children?” I asked, ignoring his order.

The man scoffed. “Just handling some uncooperative citizens, miss. And besides, it's none of your business. Move along, kid.”

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I smiled at the man’s thinly veiled urgency, having an inkling of why he was so adamant about my leaving. He was cautious, unsure of how strong I was. And he didn’t want to deal with me, even if he was confident he could handle us with his people.

“Well, see,” I started, “I’ve decided I don’t like you conducting your business here, like this, so I think I’ll have to ask you to stop.”

The man raised a cocky eyebrow. “Oh? Really?” he asked, almost incredulous in his disbelief. He turned his body away from the boy on the floor and stepped towards me. “And how, exactly, do you plan on stopping me? Do you think I’m afraid of you just because I don’t want to deal with you?”

Before I could respond, Ren stepped forward from the crowd, his sheathed sword tapping slightly against the gravelled ground.

“Red?” he asked simply, not bothering to expand beyond that simple word. But his meaning was conveyed clearly enough – at least, to me. His face was impassive, his posture relaxed, a hand leaning gently on the top of his sword, but I knew at that moment that he may as well have had his blade pressed up directly against the captain’s neck, for how simple a move it would be to kill him. The gap between the capital and Ren was far too vast, a canyon the captain had no idea the depth of. All that held Ren’s blade back from severing the smug man’s neck was my permission, but only the two of us knew it.

It brought about a strange feeling in me – the knowledge that I held an entire person’s fate, a matter of his life and death, in my hands. And to crush it would be as simple as a single word.

I shook my head, however. “A little fear should suffice, Ren,” I said, answering his unasked question. “I’ll handle it.”

Ren nodded simply, unfazed, as if the matter was of little importance to him.

The man before me sensed our utter disregard for his threat and authority, but he had keener instinct than I’d given him credit for. Instead of continuing his bolstering, he decisively grabbed for his blade, still sheathed at his side. Unfortunately for him, he never got to reach it, the flaming tip of my pole crashing into his chest before the people gathered could even blink.

The point struck the man with enough force to send him flying backwards, tossing him like a ragdoll as he flew a good two meters down the length of the road before hitting the ground in a cloud of dust.

The dozen men under the captain’s command slowly turned their eyes from their defeated leader to me, some with fear and others with battle-ready determination. I sighed as the braver ones reached for their blades, unwilling to deal with the small fry. They were utter novices, their aura so weak my instincts failed to warn me of any danger coming from their direction, despite the many weapons they brandished at me.

Almost feeling bad for them, I pointed my palm out at them and formed what I’d dubbed an ‘exploding fireball.’ It wasn't exactly the most imaginative idea, so far as names went, but it did exactly what it said on the tin. It was a compacted fireball, squished down to the size of a golf ball and glowing golden white with energy; the little pearl of destruction was an original creation of mine – and quite beautiful, I thought. More importantly, it was easy, hardly needing half a thought from me to form. The process had been etched into my bones over the many, many fights I’d endured in the forest.

The golden bomb shot out at the incoming army like a bullet, exploding at the feet of the foremost of the men, sweeping the man’s feet from underneath him as it blew a crater in the dirt-and-stone road. Before the men behind him could react, before the dust could even settle, the next shot through the cloud, exploding just a bit behind the first. The next came just after that, and then the fourth, and then the fifth.

By then, the cloud of dust had risen higher than my head, obscuring all of the men within. But I didn’t need to see them to know they were all but defeated. The noises had stopped from within, and I doubted any of them were experienced enough to consider attempting a sneak attack by feigning defeat.

With them dealt with and the captain still knocked out from the first hit, I turned back to the stunned, wary crowd. I gave them my most disarming smile and a half-wave. “Well then, they shouldn’t be a problem for you guys anymore. At least, not this time ‘round, anyway.” My little demonstration may have saved them their tax this trip, but I wasn't so myopic as to think that they wouldn't be here again next year.

The wariness of the people turned to confusion, but I didn’t care to stick around for it. But, just as I turned away from them, a piercing scream rang out from behind, full of terror and urgency. “Stone Gorillas!!” a voice came as the entire crowd behind me was shaken out of its trance. The people began a sudden charge, but surprisingly controlled, not one of them sparing a second to glance back at the new danger. As if they were aware of and ready for the threat, they immediately kicked up to a good run pace, driving their animals as quickly as they could.

The crowd quickly enveloped us, parting to give us space, like a river parting around a rock. Not one person spared us a look, except for Birch, who grabbed both my hands in hers. She had a hurried look in her eyes, out of breath from running, and she spoke in quick sentences. “You must run, Red. The gorillas are coming. They’ll be chasing us for a little bit, but as long as you keep up pace with us, they’ll give up soon enough. You’ll be safe.”

I smiled softly at her, then turned my head slightly to the dozen-and-one men lying unconscious on the road not far from us, entirely unaware of the danger that fast approached them.

Birch followed my gaze before turning back to me, worry taking over her face as she shook her head. “No, no, they aren’t worth it, Red. They wouldn’t do the same for you. Don't spare them a thought, Red; they wouldn't.”

My smile grew. “Don’t worry, Birch. I’m not about to kill myself for them. Trust me, I can handle the gorillas. And besides,” I paused there and looked to the men again, a soft look in my eyes as I recalled an ancient quote I’d read on Earth, one that I felt Ocean would have loved. “‘They are not our teachers,’” I finished.