All Leah could do after reading the admission letter was give it a disbelieving stare. The end was nigh. The sky was opening up, threatening to eat her alive. For she was now a Pebble. That’s what the letter said. It mentioned her name, Leah Cheretesha, and said she was now one of the students of the most illustrious school in all of Oshveperthe. One among the Harubridgium Pebbles. The nine-year-old’s grandparents stared at her now, in the confines of their lodge’s dinner chamber, waiting for her to speak, to relate to them the content of the most important letter of her life. The only important letter in her life, as a matter of a fact. She knew her silence was killing them, these beings who, she knew, had the Patience of the Slumbering Mother herself, but what was she to say?

One moment they’d been eating their fried meat and veggies, laughing and talking about the Halfling Troupe that had come to their village and put on a show for his tenth nameday, and the next, a letter had appeared in the air, shimmering in gold, fluttering down, about to enter her soup and ruin it—she would’ve tried to eat it anyway, and like many times in the past, her grandfather would’ve stopped her—before her amber-skinned grandmother Apricot had caught the already-dulling document and offered it to her.

Leah had gulped, taken the envelope, removed the letter within, read it, and now, a moment later, was expected to leave her home immediately and make her way to the north-eastern shore where a charted, flying, crimson ship would be waiting to take her, and those like her on the Forest Continent, all the way off to the Communion and the Harubridgium owned caravan of carriages that would be waiting on that continent’s shore, ready to take them further in, to the Boarding School at the Communion’s very core. What was she to say? The Pebble prepared her statement, cleared her throat and…

Started to bawl her eyes out.

Stop. What are you doing? She was the granddaughter of a [Hellion] and a [soul-mind.system]. A child of the forest. A pebble of the Harubridgium. She wasn’t supposed to cry, especially after she’d gotten what she’d wanted. Especially after she was one step closer to walking the God-Path of the [Graystone]. Yet, the tears just kept on coming, compounding till she was wailing like an infant. Till her mother was cradling her, telling her it was alright, that they could apply for all the other prestigious schools, maybe try to reapply for this one next autumn. She tried to tell the orange woman she’d actually gotten in, but her sobs wouldn’t let her, words coming out unintelligible and pathetic. Soon enough, she felt a nudge at the back of her hand. She opened her eyes, an inkling. Her father, kneeling next to her seat, waving the letter, a kind smile on his face. She knew what he was asking. She nodded. He began to read it, and at some point frowned before understanding dawned and he let out a chuckle, patting her back. A yell from Apricot. Qiathumariel, explaining himself. Leah closed her eyes shut, did not want to see her mother’s ire, the kind the older woman only let out when she thought the child wasn’t there. Another laugh, from her mother this time round. She wasn’t angry. Tentative and careful, Leah opened her eyes, found them both gazing at her. No anger, only delight.

“Did you read it carefully, Luthumi?” Apricot asked, laughter in her voice.

The child sniffled, wiping her eyes while nodding. “I did. I did. Stop laughing at me!” Great. First she’d been crying like an infant, now she was throwing a tantrum like one. The day had started out great but it was now morphing into her greatest bane.

“We weren’t laughing at you, sweetheart. We were simply…” the Pocket System looked at her husband for support.

“Laughing at the situation,” he added, with the dumbest look on his face.

Her grandmother frowned, seeming to deflate. “At the situation. At the situation! Really, Qitha?”

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“I just thought, ah, You know I’m not the best of li--”

Her hand glowed a pale red, blue eyes following not long after, before she took the empty envelope and threw it at him, the rune imprinted on her blouse adapting a mute golden shimmer. The envelope morphed as it glided in the air, taking the shape of a small, wide man in a blue long-skirt, a baggy shirt made entirely of leaves and a white mask with black markings. The doll they’d bought for her at the fair the day prior. It squeaked as it met his forehead. Letting out the most exaggerated scream in his entire career, the performer closed his eyes and let himself fall onto the wooden ground, right onto the doll, which squeaked again. Despite the simulation of it all, a child ranger giggled, and a grandfather failed at stopping his mouth from forming a smile.

Apricot pointed a thumb at him. “This man. If he doesn’t make it, Luthumi, what say you help an old lady carry the body out to the pigs before we continue with our meal.”

She offered her pinky and Leah locked it into hers with a grin. “Deal.”

An instant later, her grandfather’s upper body jolted up, with a deep inward gasp, like a corpse brought back from death, and she screamed before laughter took over.

“I’m sorry, Apri; but pigs. I’ll have you know, the best actor in the world requires a decent burial with a gravestone made of Thurefalium, at the least—alright.”

“You’re not even the best actor in this room, old man; what’s this talk of Thurefalium?”

Leah giggled, as her parents devolved into an argument. She was in Apricot’s arms. Home. Not alone. What would she do when she got to the school? When there was nobody like them there? The child grew quiet, and not before long, her guardians grew quiet as well, before Qitha nudged at her arm again. She looked up at him.

“Everything alright, Luthumi?” He asked.

“It's going to be the same there.”

“What will?”

“They call me Qaweno’Lutusi.”—Overthrower—“Lavinius and the other children. Some of the grownups. It’s going to be the same over there.”

“Foolish people with lazy minds. Don’t take anything they say seriously.”

“Qitha!” Apri yelled again.

“What. Am I wrong?”

“No, but have you taken into account the child you’re saying all that to.”

Child. The word hit her like a boulder. It shouldn’t have. It was what she was. So, why… “I’m sorry I’m pathetic.” She gazed back at the ground.

“What brought this on?” He asked.

“The letter. I wept because of it. The thought of being alone. They make fun of me here but at least you’re with me. It’s pathetic.”

“I cry sometimes. You’ve seen me cry sometimes. Do you think I’m pathetic?”

Her eyes gazed up at him again. “Never. You’re Qiathumariel Cheretesha, strongest Hellion in the Galazy.”

Her grandfather laughed “Slumbering right. And you’re Leah Cheretesha, daughter of the System and the Hellion. And the school covers an entire mountain. You’ll find your pack amongst its Pebbles; human or not. People you can cry with. People who will know you’re strong, and help you grow stronger, just as you’ll do with them. All you have to do is try. Put yourself out there.”

“And if the first among the Pebbles you meet are like Lavinius, just remember, their words are like the fog. Without weight,” Apri said. “And if they use the language of the fist, let yours talk; loudly.”

“Apri!” He said with a smile.

“Hush, now,” she smiled back. “You didn’t train her for nothing.”

“What if I don’t want to leave just yet?”

“The Acceptance letter doesn’t expire for another year. And they always have a charted ship, crimson or otherwise, near the continent. What’s one more summer?”

“I just didn’t want to leave this second,” they threw her quizzing looks. “The letter said ‘immediately’.”

“No, Luthumi. They do that to everybody. Why would anyone ever let their child leave for the school at the dark of night; in winter, no less.” She said. “Besides. I don’t think the [forest.queen] would ever forgive us if we let you leave before Declathean’s Week. Especially if there was trouble to be had that she could help with.”

Leah sighed. “Good. Good.” The World had knocked, but it didn’t need her to pack her bags just yet.

She ended up staying the year, and more besides, when the Queen Lavinia, as predicted, didn’t let her leave before the following Declathean’s week, helping smooth things over with the Harubridge Guild in exchange. They celebrated the first [forest.king]’s original coming, and they celebrated her leaving, friends and all; including him and his gang of fools. Her people. Her Celebration of Forest-folk.

And when the world knocked on her door a second time round, a Ranger was more than ready to answer.