The rising sun casts a cool light onto the glistening green of the forest as a mist hovers in the air, encircling Ara in a perimeter of grayed vision. Ara stayed up all night practicing her throw, presuming she will catch time to rest once they arrive. If she can get this right, she won't be as much of a burden on the next mission. Right?

Maybe if she'd learned how to defend herself a long time ago, she could have defended her family too- No. Her mind cuts itself off.

I should have left the kid to die.

She hurls a knife at the target marked on the tree face, barely missing the center of the X. Grinning to herself because of how close it was and subtly fist pumping the air in a modest celebration. This is definitely a skill she's more inclined towards. She lobs another blade that hammers against the dense tree trunk, echoing through the forest.

It feels good to be good at something, but her body shudders at the idea of being good at killing. What would Ma'ma and A'pa think of that? They were always pacifists, despite what they were capable of. Always talked about guiding others and understanding their perspective, but that might have been fucking stupid.

The satisfaction of the blade colliding with the tree is a stress reliever of sorts, creating a sound she repeatedly likes to hear. She holds up her fifth blade, looking at the previous four she'd thrown that are dotted around the center of the target.

"Not bad," She congratulates herself, eyeing the fifth blade. She could probably hit the targets when her hands heal, presuming that is the source of her minuscule errors. She passes the blade over to her right hand- It only makes sense to get good using both of them. She shifts her body over, stepping her left foot forward and lining up the throw. The entire stance screams discomfort from this side but that's to be expected. She raises the knife beside her head, eyeing the target. As if staring at it menacingly will improve her accuracy, she throws the blade with all her force and watches it dart off to the side of the tree.

A total miss. She felt it on release.

Before the blade crashes into the bushes behind it, the blade suddenly stops midair. Beside the tree.

What the fuck? Her mind queries as she hears the rustling of bushes from beside the hovering blade.

Ara takes a step backward, weary and now unarmed because she'd tossed all the blades Kimi had given her.

"Who are you?" Asks a soft voice from the rustling bushes.

"You first," Ara responds to the air as her eyes browse the space around the tree. A footstep crunches to her right and her body whips to face a young woman. She looks about the same age as Ara, with tan skin and snow-like hair as if she carried winter on her shoulders. She is dressed in white rags that fail at hiding her slender features beneath- People as pretty as her aren't usually covered in this much dirt, and the small axe fitted into a bulky, leather belt that obviously isn't hers gives no further explanations.

She circles in front of Ara with her hands reaching out ahead of her, as if she is poised for a fight. A crack in the tree trunk catches Ara's attention as the 4 blades pry themselves out of the bark, now hovering alongside the fifth. The girl stops moving as each blade drifts beside her, arching around her head like a halo of peril.

"I asked first," The girl responds with the tip of each blade directed at Ara to reinforce her position as the one who asks the questions.

"You're of magic?" Ara mumbles under her breath at the sight of her.

"Aren't you observant," The girl mocks as she steps forwards, her silver eyes unwavering as though they're peering into Ara's soul.

Beauty sparks fear too.

Ara's eyes drift to the floor as she feels the discomfort of her body begging to know whether she will fight or run. She shuffles back as the girl encroaches with the five daggers floating around her. But she stops. Suddenly. Mid step. And tilts her head to the side like a curious child seeing something unknown for the first time.

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The girl's lips slowly peel open with a subtle smile crawling up one side of her face. Her tongue peeks through her teeth with her smirk being one of pride.

"A’ra." The girl says, her accent crisply reverberating through Ara's mind. She's never heard her name pronounced like that, the girl's accent rings in a soft yet affirmative tone.

A surge runs through Ara's spine as she feels her body shudder in fear of the stranger. It became clear after her name departed from the girl's tongue that if she wanted to kill Ara, she could do so without worrying about resistance.

"You're of ma’gic too." Her voice pries, as if she has free reign to any secrets Ara might try withholding. "Where is your camp?" The question itself brings the image to Ara's mind as she quickly tries to avoid the thought. Staring at the ground and trying to think about the dirt.

What is this? What does she want? The fear is swelling its way to Ara's thoughts, afraid of anything else the stranger might take.

"Don't be afraid, I just want some information," The girl answers Ara's drifting thoughts. "My name is Akheela,"

The blades slowly tilt to point upwards, still hovering beside her as if they've been sheathed. Why would she tell this to Ara? The sudden change of heart only makes the girl more mysterious. Is she manipulating me?

"Relax," Akheela says, raising her hands in the air as if that would help Ara feel any safer. "You told me everything I needed to know, I trust you."

"I didn't tell you anything," Ara's voice cracks in a poor attempt to establish dominance.

"Fair. I guess I kind of just took it." Akheela giggles with a cute hiccup at the end of it.

"Why should I trust you?" Ara scoffs, feeling as though she's being mocked.

Akheela's eyes shift with conviction as the tip of the blades flip back at Ara. "If I wanted to kill you, I would have."

Ara swallows a large swab of spit that she barely manages to gulp down. The sudden, menacing look in Akheela's eyes brings her knees to buckle.

"I'm with the rebellion that your friends have been hired for." She says as the blades return to passive. "I'm the one you're on your way to rescue,"

"I don't believe you," Ara responds, still slowly pacing backward.

"Just read my mind," Akheela answers, as though it's so simple. Ara takes a moment to focus on the sound of Akheela's voice, noticing a light blue shimmer of her aura. She shudders, stepping further back in fear as her body vibrates more intensely than it ever has before.

"You need to focus on my energy once you've found my voice," Akheela comments, suddenly coaching Ara in her endeavor. It makes little sense that she'd want to help Ara read her mind. Is it because she trusts her?

Ara focuses again on the sound of Akheela's voice as the oceanic haze reveals itself again, emanating from her body like a blue flame. Ara winces, not in pain, but the overwhelming sensation of this girl's presence feels like it's pushing her soul away.

She keeps going, trembling in front of Akheela as she tries to manage the sensation. A rendition of Akheela appears beside her, completely made out of the blue mist. But the rendition sits on the floor, cuffed and silently screaming in pain.

Ara feels it. The pain of her memory as she squints her eye at the overpowering emotions and vibrations surging throughout her body. As if she's trying to stare into the sun.

"There you go," Akheela praises. "But that's enough."

The rays of the blue suddenly all vanish, alongside every sensation that Ara was feeling during the process. Did she shut me out?

"Yep, I did. I don't trust you that much," She giggles, ending her laughter with that same hiccup from earlier.

Ara's guard drops, and she releases the tension from her body as a deep sigh escapes her mouth.

"They're-"

An arrow zips straight past Akheela's face, only missing because she'd preemptively leaned backward. She stares at the bushes with a rage-filled glare as she holds her hands up into her stance again.

"I see you!" She yells, jolting an arm forward that prompts one of the knives to eject into the forest.

"Wait!" Ara yells, stepping in front of the girl to stop her from releasing any more blades. "Nina, I'm fine," She speaks out to the bushes. "This is the relative we're supposed to rescue in Aliim."

There is no response, as silence falls upon the area.

"You are not a drop of water in the ocean, you are the ocean in a drop of water." - Prophet U'tala