SAVE POINT 95

Loading Some Quieter Moments...99%

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Rosabella

I ran away last time—it's clear to me now. I'd tried to be the boss of everything and everyone and, instead of accomplishing that, I'd just pushed everyone away intentionally to...to just breathe for a minute... To just be allowed to be me. And I have to go back to face it now; it's time to go back to The Higher Place...maybe even take my place as Game Maker at The Higher Place?

Rule?

I never wanted it, but, maybe, I can't hide from who I am any longer. Maybe it's just time to just do it—to step up and be the leader everyone wants me to be. If I can be that strong...

I take a deep breath, looking out at the dark horizon, my fingers deep in Sheela's dark hair. The skyline is a deep, eggplant purple, severed by the black silhouettes of the trees all around us. Joy has rigged up a fire in the middle of the clearing, and shadows flicker and dance across faces zoning out as much as I am right now.

Braiding helps me collect my thoughts, and there's plenty to braid with the little girl's thick hair. I hum to myself as I work, crossing the strands over each other, so I don't have to talk. Right now, I just want to collect some of peace and quiet like I can bottle it up and keep it like the root powder in a jar, with the lid securely sealed, to sustain myself.

And, yet, I know I can't.

I know that this moment too will peter out like the sound of a dying engine, and I'll be left defenseless again. ...Except that, this time, maybe I'm more prepared for that vulnerable test.

"I'm still hungry," Sheela whines, her enormous brown eyes darting beseechingly to mine.

I can only smile back as I feel the rumble in my own stomach; the sparse food the group had left was barely enough to call a meal.

"I know," I whisper, instead of a real answer, "When we get to The Higher Place, there'll be more food than your tummy can hold." I reach to tickle her, and she squeals. "They have a kitchen there that's filled from top to bottom with goodies," I continue, "Cakes, chocolate chip cookies—"

"Cookies?!" The little girl's face ripples with eagerness.

"The best," I tell her, "All we have to do is get some good sleep, walk further tomorrow and we'll be there in no time."

It's not too much of a lie, I figure. We have the dragons for protection. There's not enough of them to fly us all, so we've been walking, instead, with them scouting ahead. Come to think of it, maybe we should just eat one of these damn ostriches. The birds wander around the camp, pecking at the dark grass and crooning to themselves in the hushed night—their cries mixing with the lull and squeak of nearby crickets. ...Then again, I'm not sure that it's a good idea to eat black magic...

"Good night, Rosie," Sheela calls softly.

I look down with surprise to see her already nestled into a blanket, her eyes closing sleepily over two, pudgy cheeks.

Rosie.

She'd called me—

But, for some reason, I don't mind the nickname coming from her lips.

"If I go to sleep faster, maybe we'll get there faster," she whispers, her eyes still closed and her words blurred by the gaps in her teeth and drowsiness.

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And that makes me smile as I slip down, adjusting my backpack as my pillow against the curve of my neck. "Good night, Sheela," I murmur back.

I worry about her as I gaze up into the violet sky stretching overhead. She saw her mother murdered in cold blood by the very woman we have tied up here in camp. I look out over the numerous, restless nerds, prisoners and animals milling about, settling down for sleep. We're strong in numbers, but entirely different. How can I hope to unite everyone and The Gamers even if I do decide to sit on the metaphorical throne?

Loading a Very Long Walk Later...

I see it, rising up in the distance like a sun on the horizon—The Higher Place. The roofline glints gold over Victorian detailing. The massive, ornate structure rises, white and gold, like an Olympian temple or a grand hotel with the sea in the background. Behind me, I hear Sheela gasp.

"Yep, that's her alright—and she's a beaut too, isn't she?" I hear Dormouse verify when it appears the little girl asks.

Honestly, I've never been gladder to see anywhere. My back and feet ache, and I'm getting tired of the stares of the group as we walk—like they have a million questions on their tongues that they think I can answer. What they don't know, is that I don't want them to ask; I've been sidestepping their attempts all day. ...Because I don't think I have the answer. Not yet. I'm still not sure—even this close to the place. I'm still not sure if I want to be their leader.

Joy, in particular, has been giving me major side-eye; she probably doesn't think I've noticed, but I can almost see the wondering glint in her eyes. And I can't answer her. I really can't.

I push forward from the group, anxious to get inside. We're all hungry and thirsty, smelly and, honestly, rather grumpy. I'm so ready for a shower and a hot meal, but not exactly ready for what happens next...

"Rosabella!"

I freeze.

It's—

Sparo? I'd recognize that voice anywhere, and, I guess, it helps that his human silhouette darkens the doorway inside. Elation and dismay jump in me at the same time.

Oh my God—it's him but...but I look like a complete trainwreck—

Oofff.

Something hits me hard in the chest and—

It's him.

His arms surround me.

Encircle me.

And I melt. Into his embrace. Into his warmth and strength—God, if I can borrow some of that right now. I've forgotten how he smells. Mmmmh. Like a men's department store and wood mixed together. And, when he pulls me back from him to look at my probably dirt-smudged face and wrecked hair, I notice tears pushing to the front of my eyes. Oh, shit, I can't cry now—

"You came back for your ole dragon, didn't you?" he jests. And he lifts a brown finger, brushing away the tear I had hoped he didn't see.

And I smile because I forgot how he sees—me.

He grins back.

"And you brought a party," he notes, his eyes skimming over the makeshift army behind me. We're all wandering in the grass, approaching the enormous facade of the Victorian building and looking up in awe. "They do not look like warriors," he whispers.

"It's 'cause they're not," I say, laughing a little, "They're nerds—fantasy nerds to be exact."

"Fantasy nerds," the guy repeats, turning the label over in his mouth, "Okay, I see you trying on something new."

And there's that grin again, flashing at me. And I, suddenly, want to go weak at the knees and just let him scoop me up—let someone finally take care of me for once.

"We're hungry and tired—" I start.

"Say no more," he interrupts me, "I'll get the chef and maids right on it. I might have promoted myself while you were away. Nothing huge, just—Chief of Staff." He brushes off his own shoulders, and I have to laugh again.

But his voice gets heavy—serious—all of a sudden. "So, are you back? Are you...ready?"

My heart jumps and shutters.

Ready?

I know what he means, but it's the question that I thought I'd avoided today; it's the one question I'm more afraid of than I want to admit. Am I ready to be the Game Maker the Gamers need? Am I ready to rule? My breath catches in my throat.

"I—" I struggle to find the resolve and duck my head before looking at the man directly.

But, in his deep eyes, I see what I need. I see him not wanting to be pushy but...him waiting for me.

To jump.

To do the brave thing.

To step up.

Goddammit.

"Yes"—I whisper the word, hoarsely, but I finally said it. My feet crunch in the grass as they shift nervously below me. "Yes," I say a little louder, "I think I am."