The morning was chaos. Nurses and doctors kept checking on her cheek and back, left to talk with one another in private, before going back to check on her.

           Hawthorne remained by Arin’s side the entire time, holding her bandaged hand as everyone examined her. Something was wrong, when would they tell her? Everyone kept saying that they were trying to understand why she was healing so fast, but that answer wasn’t satisfying.

            “Don’t worry, Arin,” Hawthorne assured, “Coyasko will be here soon. He’ll keep you company. He’ll make everything better.”

            “You think so? I mean . . . I’m so scared . . .”

            “Relax,” his grip around her scratched hand tightened, “I’m right here. If something bad is happening, you will recover no matter what. I promise. Crimsons face a lot worse injuries, you will recover.”

            Arin relaxed, nodding once. “Thank you . . .”

            “Don’t thank me—”

           The door was pushed open and Coyasko rushed in. Crimsons chased after him, talking to him about different things. He ignored them all, his attention was on Arin.

           Inaudible words came from Coyasko’s mouth. Frustrated, he shouted, “everyone be quiet!” When silence was achieved he cleared his throat, “how are you? Are you okay?”

           She blushed, nodding, “yes, I’m well, sir.”

            “And you have had wonderful treatment?”

            “Yes, sir. The nurses and doctors helped me heal greatly.”

            “That is wonderful!” Coyasko was talking to a doctor now, “is she well enough to walk outside?”

            “Yes, sir. It is just her face that we worry about.”

            “Excellent! Arin, care to go for a walk with me and Scor today?”

            “R—really? I would love to! Beats being stuck in bed all day.”

            “Hawthorne, you can join us too if you want.”

            He bowed his head, “I would love to, sir.”

            “Then by all means, let’s go. First thing is first, just make sure Arin is okay.”

***

           The four hiked along the trail, enjoying the blossoming forest. Coyasko led the way, Arin sat on Scor’s saddle, her legs were still incredibly weak.

            “So, um . . . where are we going?”

            “There is a lake nearby, I was thinking we could relax there.”

            “Sounds lovely!” Scor purred, inhaling the fresh air. “It just feels nice to be together again.”

            “Agreed, we got lucky this time. A true blessing from the spirits.”

           They ventured through the forest, quiet once more. Ahead, the trees began to spread out, revealing a long body of water. Arin dismounted, allowing Scor to race ahead, laughing as he skipped along. He leaped out of the forest, landing on a sandy shore.

            “Wow, it’s so beautiful!”

            “Exactly why I chose this location. Near, safe, and beautiful.”

            “What are we going to do here?”

            “Well—”

            “Igneous! Oshwa!” Scor squealed, racing across the shore. Arin stopped, was Oshwa truly here? Arin ran as fast as her legs allowed, out of the forest, following Scor’s gaze. Sitting next to Igneous was Oshwa, in his green cloak, hood down.

            Arin screamed, running across the bank.

            Oshwa stood, using his staff to help him walk. Arin jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his body. Oshwa dropped his staff, pulling Arin into a tight hug, hurting her back. Pain no longer mattered, she was finally with him again.

            “Oh, thank goodness you’re safe. I—I thought you were a goner.”

            “Well, I thought you died too!”

            “Thankfully there is nothing to mourn today . . .” His smile disappeared for a moment. “Let’s enjoy ourselves this afternoon.”

           Scor and Igneous raced in the air, circling the lake. “I’m going to teach Scor how to fish! We will be back soon!”

            “Just don’t anger any leviathans!”

            The two flew off, following the water flow back into the wilderness. While they went to do their own thing, the four sat on the blanket. Rustling leaves. Small waves lapping against the shore. Clouds float above them. As they daydreamed, Coyasko unpacked everyone’s lunch, handing out their meals.

            “I tried to make everyone’s favorites. I know you love scones, Hawthorne, Oshwa. Arin, I’m sorry but I kinda guessed. It’s okay if you don’t eat it.”

            “Nonsense, Coyasko. You are a fantastic cook, I’m sure Arin will love it.”

            “He is?” Arin asked, accepting her small wrapped meal.

            “I have . . . humble beginnings. I hailed from a small province far south where I served as an apprentice chef. I met Igneous and together we traveled to the capital and joined the army.”

            “Ahem, that is not all of it. You cooked for the Crimsons before fighting, remember?”

            “Oh, I remember, I just like to leave that part out, heh.” He coughed, speaking hastily, “but do enjoy your lunch.”

           They laughed, beginning to eat their meals. Arin hesitated, her injuries at the front of her attention. She reassured herself, providing false confidence. If anything bad was happening she would just be carried back to the fort.

           She began to eat, only focusing on the wildfire. Unconsciously, she trembled, fearing any sudden flame. Rigid muscles, watering eyes, the roar returned. Sweat trickled down her forehead.

           Clap!

           Coyasko had clapped his hands in front of her face, pulling her away from the daze. Arin clutched her sandwich, trying to hold back her tears. It was unreasonable to be crying. Breathing was a struggle, lungs uncooperative.

            “It’s okay . . . try not to think about it. We brought you out here for relaxation. What happened in that forest will never happen to you again, I promise.”

            “One day it will be a distant memory.”

            “Just try to forget, focus on the beautiful river or trees or sky!” Oshwa shifted closer.

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I—just—um . . . I’m still pretty scared.”

            “Give it time, try to forget,” Coyasko reassured, “you’ll recover physically and mentally, and this will never happen again.”

           She nodded, continuing to eat. The taste was nondescript, unable to pull her attention away from the fire. Arin finished her lunch before the others, and began daydreaming about her sun Mark. She still questioned what it meant.

           Coyasko noticed her staring at her hand and cleared his throat. “Is your Mark confusing you?”

            “I just . . . what does it all mean? Why me? What does this sun represent? Why am I hated—or was hated—by the Crimsons. Why, why, why?! First, I was a simple Plaque Reader and now a savior of the world! I just can’t comprehend why I am your hero.”

            “Well, technically,” Oshwa chuckled, “you were never the Plaque Reader. I mean yes you did read the Plaque, but you were always a Child of Destiny. The Plaque Reader was a human who could read the Plaque but was not a chosen one. So, in a way, the Plaque Reader never existed.”

            “Wait, so I was never a Plaque Reader? I was just an unofficial Child of Destiny?”

            “Correct.”

           She looked back at her Mark, sighing. “I still don’t see why I was chosen. I can’t save the world . . .”

            “You’re right,” Coyasko said, “you can’t save the world right now. You are young, inexperienced, and have so much to learn before you are ready. You’ve only been here for a few months now. Also, just look at what happened last time you tried to play hero!”

           The negativity was thick. She turned away, ashamed. “So, what do I do until I’m ready? What can I do to prove myself and become experienced? I mean anytime I fight I lose so . . . will they ever stop?”

            “Croun may be desperate but he isn’t like that. I am surprised by his persistence but I’m sure he is out of patience. He may even think that you died in that fire. His patience is running thin, Arin. We fear for your life.”

            “Would he really kill me?”

            “Yes,” Oshwa rubbed at his eyes, “I had a vision while I slumbered—”

            “Oshwa, don’t tell her.”

            “We should, her life is at stake. I will not let her die even if it means destroying the future.”

            “What was the vision?”

            “You and Croun were fighting and he . . . he killed you.”

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

            Her heart skipped a beat, chest tight. Never before had she worried about death. She sat back on her heels, short of breath again. Coyasko rubbed her shoulder, trying to ease her anxiety. Now she had another thing to worry about.

            “Arin, we have already been discussing ways to avoid this future.”

            “H—how? When will this happen?”

            “We do not know when, but we think it is best to send you away. The Provinces are peaceful, you would enjoy it there.”

           Scarlet’s entire family died at a Province. I would bring trouble to them, I could get more people killed.

            “There are also more isolated forts like this. There is um . . . yeah that’s really it. As long as you avoid the capital you should be safe. You can go in hiding and train every day, and grow stronger, and older, and be ready for when we need you.”

            I’m not needed? This frustrated her, anger replaced fear. Did she have to prove herself again? “But . . . what happens if I’m discovered? The Abyssals can sense my energy and find me. It’s best if I’m with you all.”

           They were quiet, Hawthorne continued to eat. He folded his arms and laid back, watching the clouds.  “Can we not worry for one day, or one hour? Let’s enjoy the sunshine, please.”

           She laid back as well, grumbling to herself. Oshwa grabbed Arin’s hand, staring at the sky. A few clouds began to gather, but blue dominated the world above. A spirit flew soared, releasing a soothing cry. Only Coyasko could not see them. The spirit disappeared, its long feathers trailed behind its light blue body.

           Arin sighed, slightly bored. “So, um, why does Mila hate me?”

           The three were silent, trying to think of an answer. Coyasko spoke, turning his head to Arin. “Uh . . . I guess to simplify it, someone pretending to be the Plaque Reader killed his father. Since then he refused to believe that the prophecy was real and just a fairy tale. I mean, we all believed that it wasn’t real though . . .”

            “Yeah! I had a vision once and Mila refused to believe it because it had the Children of Destiny in it.”

            “Oh . . . wow I did not expect that.” With death mentioned, her thoughts drifted back to Oshwa’s vision. Her death. Perhaps it was all a lie, a lie to prevent her from performing insane stunts. It could even be a lie to push her away.

           They know that Croun wouldn’t kill me, I’m too special. They’re just trying to trick me. Arin watched the small waves, upset by their lying. They’re just trying to protect me . . . but, why lie? Why not just straight up say, ‘it’s too dangerous and we need you to go into hiding’?

           “Perhaps, once those rascals return, we should head back. It looks like it might rain.”

            Above dark clouds began to cover the heavens. Arin sat up, holding her bandaged cheek. The pressure stung, but dulled within a few moments. The sharpest pain was in her heart, it ached by the conversations they had.

           They want to push me away . . . Is it because of what happened in the fire? Am I just making a big deal out of all of this?

            “Arin and I should go ahead. She shouldn’t get wet,” Oshwa stood, grunting in the process. “Plus, due to our injuries we are slower.”

            “Good points, the four of us can carry it all back. You two just stay safe and don’t push yourself.”

           Arin stood ignoring Oshwa’s outstretched talon. He drew back, surprised by her anger. She stomped back to the trail, leaving Oshwa behind. He hurried after her, asking her to slow down.

            “Arin!” He seized Arin’s arm, halting her. “What’s wrong? Can I help in any way?”

            “No. I just . . . am I—er—it’s nothing.”

            “We can talk privately while we walk back.”

            “Nothing is wrong though!”

           They entered the woods again, slowly making their way back to the fort. Oshwa spoke behind her, “Arin, I’m the most powerful soothsayer in Fynne so I’m not an idiot. I’m also an empath!”

            “What’s an empath?”

            “I can feel other people’s emotions basically.”

            “Oh, that’s cool.”

            He chuckled, pushing a high branch out of his way. “Why are you so sad and angry? Today is supposed to be a happy day for us!”

            “Then you shouldn’t have mentioned that I was going to die!” Arin exhaled trying to remain calm. “You guys were also mean . . .”

            “Oh?” He looked her up and down, “hmm . . . I see.”

           Arin figured that he was going to say, “we would never want to hurt you” but they already had in the past. How many more times would they do this to her?

            “Anger is replacing sadness.”

            “That isn’t helping.”

            “Then what will?”

            “I want to be with Scor.”

            Behind her, Oshwa stopped. Arin glanced back, he appeared to be sad, but she was no empath. Arin sighed, she shouldn’t be mad at Oshwa. She hugged her big friend, muttering an apology.

            “It’s fine, I understand your anger.”

            She held on for a little longer before they continued back to the fort. The wind picked up more, rattling the trees. There was still no rain. Both were silent, listening to the wind.

            “Did you see the spirit earlier?”

            “The big bird?”

            “Mhm. Quite beautiful, huh?”

            “I was too angry at the time to pay attention.”

            “Oh . . .”

            The hidden fort was now visible. Arin could hardly see its camouflaged walls among the dark trees. Arin ambled to the entrance, sat by the stairs, and waited for Scor. Oshwa debated on joining her or not. He sighed and walked inside, leaving Arin alone.

***

           Arin rubbed Scor’s neck under the wooden roof. Rain clamored above them. A few droplets snuck through the cracks, splattering against either of them. They spoke of the heavy topics from lunch during the gentle storm. Thankfully, nobody bothered them, allowing them to state their opinions.

            “Y—you can’t just be cast aside! We’ve been through so much and for it all to be nothing,” Scor clenched his claws into tight fists, “it is outrageous!”

            “What should we do? I can’t be sent away, I’ll never see my friends again!”

            “I would miss so many too . . .” Scor sighed before straightening, “we have to prove ourselves again!”

            “But I’m still injured, regardless of how fast it is healing.”

            “We only have a little time before they get rid of us! Don’t you think you can push past your injuries and do something that will make them go, ‘wow we totally need Arin with us, she is such a great addition to our forces!’”

            “But no matter what I do I’m sure they’ll be angry.”

            They both sighed, trying to think of something. The wood moaned above them as the rain picked up slightly. Scor shook his head, sending some water flying.

            “At least no matter what happens we will be together, the unstoppable Fire of Truth duo.”

            Branches crunched underneath something, Crimsons were probably going to drag Arin back inside. They both knew that was the most probable outcome. The camouflage tarp hiding the two was pulled back.

            “Arin, Scor, you must come inside immediately.”

            “I thought mini dragons weren’t allowed inside?” they both questioned in unison.

            “Please no questions, we must hurry.”

            Against their will, they complied with the request. Arin was barely tall enough to stand straight. She left the hovel first, followed by Scor. He stretched his wing over Arin. The duo smiled at one another, hurrying after the Crimsons. The fort was nearby, thankfully she wouldn’t have to walk too far.

            “What’s going—”

            Immediately she was hushed. Arin rolled her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on their torches. The last thing she wanted was to be lost in this terrifying woodland.

            They continued walking, the fort invisible in the dark night. Where was it? Scor seemed just as perplexed.

           Its dark silhouette appeared through the trees. All of its lights were off, something terrible must be happening. One of the Crimsons extinguished the three torches, leaving the five in the dark. Arin lit a small fire in her hands, using it to guide herself.

           A Crimson hurried ahead and opened the double doors for them, bowing as they approached. There were no lights on inside as well. Carefully, Arin grew the fire in her hands. At the doorway of the fort Scor folded his wings and walked in. Arin entered as well, rubbing her arms.

           There was loud talking in a nearby room. Scor pushed the door open, squeezing through the frame. Arin ducked under her friend’s wing. Conversations stopped, Coyasko, Hawthorne, Oshwa, and everyone else stared at them.

            “Is there a reason we were pulled inside?” Arin asked.

            “A spy has returned and said that the Others are going to be attacking and will by flying over us.”

            “So, we will be fighting—”

            “Absolutely not. You and Scor will be staying here, the rest of us will fight. We need you inside where it is safe.”

            Arin opened her mouth to protest but Hawthorne interrupted, “you are to stay here. Oshwa will keep you good company. That is final.”

            She sighed, giving up her rebuttal. Arin turned and left the room, Scor did not follow her. Near the end of the hall another Crimson opened a door for her, bowing as she approached him.

           She peeked inside, there were blankets and pillows on the ground. Darkness deceived her vision, perhaps there were other things inside as well. She entered, half expecting the door to slam behind her.

           Oshwa cleared his throat behind her. “Arin . . .”

            “Don’t. I don’t want to be put down anymore.”

            “We are just trying to protect you. Look at what happened last time you faced the Others. There is clearly a new threat and we can’t throw you, or anyone on the field with no knowledge.”

            “You make it sound like I was worthless.”

           Fire came from Oshwa’s staff, lighting a nearby candle. He lifted the tray off the counter, carrying it to the center of the room. There was nothing except the pillows, blankets and an empty counter with a sink.

            “Take a seat on the floor, I guess to pass the time we can tell stories.”

            “But I wanna help them, it is my destiny!”

            “Shush, you aren’t ready to fight. Now let’s share stories.”

            “I would have stories to share if you let me do something!”

            He frowned, sitting on a pillow. Arin laid down, resting her head on a fluffy pillow. Scor came in, pulling the door shut with his tail. He snorted lying next to Arin.

            Arin could not hear what was happening outside the room. She wanted to a part of it, whatever it was. Oshwa rested his staff on the floor and pulled out a book from his cloak.

            Before Oshwa could read a single page Scor spoke, “what are you reading?”

            “Simple fairy tales.”

            “Why?”

            “Because,” Oshwa looked at Scor, smiling, “it teaches the reader about an event which they have no experience with. Also, it’s fun.”

            “Well, what is this story about?”

            “A lost spirit trying to find a friend.”

            “That sounds . . . sad.”

            “At first it is, but then the little spirit made lots of friends. It reminds me of Arin, actually.”

            “Me?”

            He nodded, “you came here alone, scared, weak; now you are surrounded by friends, family as some of us say.”

            “Family doesn’t call me worthless.”

            “Family also doesn’t let you fight stupidly.” She gripped her pants in anger. “But I guess tonight I am not family.”    

            “Wait what?!”

            “I never got to explain my entire vision, ya’ know.” Oshwa coughed. He put his book aside then spoke. “I lied about you dying—”

            “Why would you do that?” Arin questioned bewildered by this news, Scor was gaping at Oshwa.

            “Let me speak, please.” The two nodded, allowing him to continue, “what I foresaw was the attack, and the Crimsons losing. I figured if I delayed you going to fight that might change the Crimsons’ fate. You’re strong and I doubt they’re using Abyssals at this time.”

            They need me.

           “We will be safe?”

            “No, Scor, this is a real battle, you will get hurt. Maybe even die. When you go, be careful. However, it isn’t certain as I claimed.”

            “I’ll take good care of her.”

            “You stay safe as well, Scor. I care about you too.”

            They were silent, Arin and Scor were both relieved by the truth. Oshwa spoke once more. “Now, uh, while we wait, shall I read you two a story to calm any anxiety?”

            Arin lied next to Scor, resting her head against his shoulder. She smiled at him, happy that the truth came out. “Sure, Oshwa, sure.”