An airy chill blew about my ears as I slowly woke to another misty morning. It was stirred by the opening and closing of the cabin’s door.

My eyes opened to the old man staring down on me. He was dressed to travel.

“No chores today. Follow,” he ordered.

I wanted to feel that my life had been set to this tiny cabin, surrounded by the stench of the misty rivers and fish. Doubts slammed into my gut at the sight of his somber expression. And I sensed a determination behind his moments.

Ever since our dinner had danced above the table a month ago, an estrangement had formed between us. It wasn’t something I wanted to see or acknowledge, so I brushed off his avoidance as the usual attitude.

My instinct was making me feel uneasy. It looked like something was about to change.

Still, I must have looked like a frozen carp with my mouth stuck on a why. The steadfast look in his eyes told me I had no option to refuse.

All I could do was gather my things to leave. Although, my things amounted to the clothes covering my skin and a sack of food.

As I stepped out of the cabin for the first time and turned to look back, I realized a truth. Those moss covered stone walls set among a calm and claggy environment couldn’t be my home. A mere place to recover, but it seemed I had outdone my welcome.

“Fine.” I heaved a deep sigh filled with regret.

No matter what, the old man had saved me from a certain death. Regardless of what his final thoughts were for me, I was grateful to him.

The ice morning air chilled my bones as I followed his hobble downstairs and along the small pier. I had become familiar with this view from the cabin’s window. It felt surreal to walk along this short length of boardwalk. Its weathered boards creaked underfoot as we approached a bobbing dinghy, which was moored to the side.

He tossed our sacks into the center of the boat and step inside. I huddled on the damp thwart, hugging one of the dry sacks helped me keep my body heat and stop me from going numb with cold.

“Here.” The old man threw a blanket at me.

I nodded with my thanks and wrapped it around my shivering arms.

When he saw I was settled, he jiggled a couple of oars into two eyelets and started rowing the boat into open water.

The boat broke across misty waters, which splashed the sides and landed droplets on my cheeks.

The coarse blanket could keep most of my body dry and warm. The exposed areas of my body were going numb with cold. I glanced at the old man who rowed with a steady rhythm. He moved, unfazed by the harsh weather. Of course, he must’ve sailed the waters many times to be accustomed to the climate. Watching him row distracted my mind from the cold. I drifted into imagination.

Rainbow light pulsated around an orb of cream stone. It shone to evoke feelings of purity and hope. The stone was set within a glowing hexagon apparatus. It lit the center of a dark stone platform. Its light revealed the shapes of opened flower platforms. They connected to similar of various levels. And expanded into a maze of obsidian stone with glowing red veins along the surfaces.

“Hana.” My voice croaked as I became awake.

Was this a memory? It was fading so fast I couldn’t hold on to it. Rays of daylight touched my eyelids to send the shrapnel of the memory fading with the waking sun. I opened my eyes to an energetic bustle of a city port beneath an overcast sky. The port became large and vivid as the dinghy sail toward one side of the crowded quay. It came to a rest, sandwich between bigger boats.

I waited for the old man to finish mooring the boat before stirring my body into movement. After a few wobbles, I was able to regain my balance, pull myself out of the hull and onto the pier.

The sight of burly men in fishing clothes or hardy aprons wandered across my sight. I gagged at the stench of open sea, fish guts and musky salty smells stirring my nose hairs.

“Ugh, foul stench.” I grumbled.

“Don’t open yah mouth," the old man said as he looked down on me with a curt glare.

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It was the first time I realized he was taller and with a physical strength to be brutal if he wanted to be. He was every bit as burly as the scraggly bearded fishermen that passed us.

Another thing I noticed that bothered me, my body was still feeble. As it was the case, all I could do was nod and follow.

We walked down the quay’s length to enter a section of rusted metal and weathered hardwood buildings. The buildings overwhelmed a section of mud huts. I inhaled the smell of fresh smelt, iron and the sweat of hard work shared among the crowd. From the sight of red-hot steal being banged on the anvils, I instinctively knew what the blacksmith was making. Farm tools. The pattern of impurities and metal type told me as much.

“Was I a blacksmith in my past life?” I whispered to myself and shook my head. No, this image of me didn’t feel right. Yet, I felt I had gathered the knowledge to be one.

“Stay close. Don’t stray," the old man said when he could see my attention was somewhere else.

I nodded and continued to follow his lead.

Our direction changed as the dirt tracks we had been walking became cleaner and more solid. We stepped onto paths of cobblestone between tall brick buildings.

“Wow. A contrast,” I said in awe as I passed people with run-down faces and shabby tunics.

They hurried after the elegant gentlemen or ladies styled in crisp white robes with colorful sashes draped across their chests. Expensive and flashy silver jewelry and headdresses adorned their bodies. The old man was particularly careful to avoid contact with these people. He had no hesitation shoving the poor people aside as we continued along the street.

Our direction changed to a scenery of mud huts and food carts selling various wares. Most of the patrons were the white robe folk. I noticed more respect was given to those with lighter colored sashes. They likely represented a class system that showed how much snobbier you were. The sight of them stirred an ache to my forehead from my deep frown. Nobility and royalty. I don’t know why, but those two terms were making my blood boil. My hands curled into fists.

“Those white robe people?” I crudely pointed at one of them and earned a nasty cuff and pinch to the ear.

“Yah tired of living?! Show some respect to the patrons or die miserably," the old man scolded me.

From the tone of his voice, he was saying these words more to himself. He grabbed my hand and quickened his steps. I was dragged up the steps of a steep path that led to a complex of cream stone buildings. Nearby was a statue of a man with an eagle’s head and wings guarding the front steps of a pantheon.

“Yah better wait for me there. Don’t yah dare move.” He pointed to a tree shading the eagle-man statue.

My frown wouldn’t go away. Throughout the whole trip, the old man had been aloof. As soon as we had entered the town, his attitude had been austere and uncaring.

Was this due to societal expectations or...

Either way, I felt something was amiss and unable to shake the feelings something bad was going to happen.

He hobbled up the stairs and entered the building frequented by white robed people.

The shade from the tree was a welcome respite to my flushed skin. But it didn’t allay my concerns.

If I were to disobey his orders, where would I go?

White robe people glared at me when they walked past. Instinctively, I knew their attention was the last thing I needed. And having so many about, I didn’t think it would be wise to blindly wander the area.

Besides, I still didn’t know my identity. Perhaps, whatever the old man was up to could help me recover the details.

“It’s best I see how things go.”

With this in mind, I leaned further against the tree’s shadow to keep out of people’s way.

A gentle breeze stirred through my ears and slapped against my senses. I woke to see the sun wane into the west. I had dozed off without realizing it. Judging by the sun’s position, it had been for a few hours. How long had the old man been away?

The sight of uniformed men along the steps caused me to become apprehensive.

I chewed my lip with a thought of the old man’s conclusion for me. Shadows loomed over my face. Uniformed men looked down on me with unfavorable smirks. Up close, I could tell they were soldiers of some faction. And I finally realized I was a girl. A person without the physical strength to counter any attack they would dish out.

“Damn it!” I cursed in my head.

“Yeah, you’re as that Old Man said.”

A solider yanked my arms toward him to slap iron shackles over my wrists. So, the old man had decided to turn me in as a prisoner. Well, that was just dandy. Somehow, I felt I had experienced something similar before, but where?

“What would soldiers want with a weak girl?” I calmly said, holding back my anger.

“Mice don’t speak.” The soldier bellowed with malice, but his attitude only stirred up more of my anger.

Emotions swelled within me. Heat stirred through an external force of gusty winds around us. These winds gathered a strength to form a tornado of dirt and debris. The soldiers yelped and struggled against nature’s slaps to our skin.

“The laws of nature will judge yah!”

My voice was small, but my words carried a black magic power that caused the men to involuntarily drop to their knees before me. The tornado expanded. Affecting the surrounding people, who yelped and cursed with shock and pain. They struggled against the force.

Morvorcas eticous!

Stolid words pierced through my ear drums to cause abrupt shock to my brain. I fainted.