Part Two

Sunflower

“No!” Thomas yelled, knowing that his friend was seconds away from death. But there was nothing that he could do, not when he was so far away, not when he didn’t have any weapons on him, not when he hadn’t the faintest clue on how to help. But, out of nowhere, a man appeared, stepping forward to stand between Hunter and the soldier, stabbing a knife into the arm of the soldier trying to kill Hunter. The soldier cried out, dropping his knife and grabbing at his hurt arm.

“Are you alright?” the man asked, holding his knife with a tight hand and staring at the soldier in front of them. Not knowing if the stranger was talking to him or Hunter, Thomas stayed silent. The man turned around, his worried face latching onto Hunter, revealing that he had been talking to his friend. “Are you okay?”

Hunter nodded. “I’m fine,” he reassured, though his pale face spoke of the opposite.

“And you?” The man’s gray eyes locked on Thomas’ eyes, the intensity of his look startling the boy. With adrenaline still pumping through him, Thomas could only nod, feeling unable to speak. With his answer, the man sagged in relief, closing his eyes. Feeling that the threat had passed, Thomas sighed, looking away from both Hunter and the man and at the wound in his shoulder. He had taken the arrow out, though that had hurt immensely, feeling as if it would be an impediment for him. Now, looking at the blood running down from the wound, he wondered if that had been the smartest move on his part. Thomas frowned, try--

“Michael!” Hunter screamed out suddenly. Thomas quickly looked up, just in time to watch the soldier plunge his knife into the stomach of Hunter’s savoir--Michael, if Hunter’s yell was anything to go off on, which Thomas knew was the name of Hunter’s mentor. Michael’s gasp of pain coincided with Thomas’ gasp of surprise and shock, and he fell to the ground with a hard thud. Thomas sprang up, running to the man’s side as fast as he could, not paying attention as Hunter launched himself at the soldier, taking care of the person that had stabbed his mentor.

Michael’s hands were over his wound, but that did little to prevent Thomas from noticing the blood pouring out of it, pooling quickly in a puddle beneath him. The sight and irony smell of the blood made Thomas want to vomit, but he swallowed hard, trying to control his quickening breath and rapid heartbeat. Though he knew next to nothing about wounds nor how to treat them, he knew that Michael’s injury was life-threatening, meaning that he and Hunter needed to find help--and fast.

“Oh my God,” a voice breathed out. Wrenching his gaze away from Michael’s stomach, Thomas looked up to find Hunter crouched next to him, his face slack and pale. His eyes were fixated on the blood pouring from Michael’s wound and he seemed to not know what to do next, making Thomas even more fearful.

“Hunter,” Michael gasped. Hearing how weak his voice was, Thomas realized just how close to death the man laying in front of him was. “Listen to me.”

For the first time since crouching down on the ground, Hunter looked away from Michael’s stomach, instead staring at his mentor. “How are you here?”

“When you left, I knew exactly where you were going.” Michael closed his eyes, pausing before continuing to speak. “Liam went on ahead towards Eskil, but I knew I had to follow you here.”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter said. His voice sounded strained, like he was trying his hardest to prevent tears from slipping down his face. “I shouldn’t have left.”

Thomas frowned, trying to figure out why Hunter would feel the need to apologize. As far as he knew, Michael had known that his apprentice was heading for Ridgecrest to tell Thomas about his parents. Then, Thomas realized that Hunter had never said anything about Michael, only that he didn’t want Thomas to know about Matheson. If that was true, it was possible that Michael had told Hunter to not say a word to Thomas.

Michael opened his eyes, staring intently at his apprentice. “You have nothing to apologize for. You were right; Thomas deserves to know who his family is. Forgive me instead for my inability to stand up for the right things. I’ve stayed silent for far too long.” Then, Michael looked over at Thomas, taking him in for the first time. “You look exactly like your father.”

Thomas started, realizing that Michael’s sentence was the first time he had ever heard any description of his father. “I do?”

Michael nodded. “You do.” He paused before adding, “It’s nice to finally meet you again, Thomas.”

Thomas felt his forehead crease in confusion. “Again?” He was sure he had never met Hunter’s mentor before.

Michael nodded once. “I was close with your mother when you were a toddler. The la--”

“Wait, you know my mom?” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hunter look away quickly, but he still managed to catch a guilty expression on his friend’s face. Before he could ask what was wrong, Michael answered his question, bringing his focus back on understanding more about his family.

“Yes, I know her. Her name is Kathleen Fields. She lives in Northfield, with her husband, Henry, and her son, Petrus.” Thomas blinked away the tears coming to his eyes. Not only was his father alive, but his mother was as well. And he knew her name, knew where she lived. Beyond that, he had discovered that he had a half-brother named Petrus and a step-father named Henry. Both of their names were added to his list of family members, a list that was quickly filling up with names. “She runs a bakery.”

Thomas’ eyes widened with Michael’s last sentence. It explained why the smell of fresh-baked bread always coincided with his image of his mother. “A bakery?”

“Yes. It’s been in the Hayes family for three generations now. It’s called the Snow Goose Bakery.”

As fast as he could, Thomas pulled out his medallion from under his shirt and bandana, holding up the bird on it for Michael to see. “A snow goose like this?”

Michael stared at the medallion, appearing to be shocked at its appearance. “Exactly like that,” he breathed out. “The snow goose is your family’s crest. Kathy gave that to you, when you were three. In fact, it was right before I took you here.”

“You were the one who brought me here?”

Michael nodded. “Your mother begged me to.”

Thomas frowned, confused as to the reasons behind his mother’s plea for him to be raised in an orphanage, away from her. “Why?”

Michael shook his head, making Thomas’ excitement over learning about his family evaporate. “Like I said, I can’t explain everything. Your mother should be the one to discuss this with you, not me.” Michael looked away. “I’m sorry, Thomas, for not telling you sooner. You should’ve known about Kathleen long ago.” He looked at Hunter. “You made me realize that, Hunter. You made me realize that Thomas should meet Kathleen. But not Matheson.” Michael looked back at Thomas, his eyes looking him in the eye. “Under no circumstances are you to meet your father. Your father is a bad man, Thomas, and I have seen the dark side of him. Stay away from him, for your own good.” Thomas’ eyes widened, shocked at what Michael was telling him. Before he could ask the man why he thought so negatively about his father, Michael turned to Hunter. “And don’t you dare take him.”

Hunter flushed. “Mich--”

“Promise me.”

Thomas held his breath, staring at his friend to see what he would say. Michael was begging Hunter to not let Thomas meet his father on his deathbed. It would be cruel for him to refuse that--especially considering how close Michael was to dying--but Thomas still urged him to do so. He had always wanted to meet his parents--both of his parents--regardless of what they were like. He had run away from the Enlistment Act, had even fought against two Aspayan soldiers, to do so. He couldn’t turn away now, not when he was in this far. He had to see this through to the end, had to meet Matheson--and Kathleen, now that he knew about her. But he needed Hunter. He couldn’t do it without his friend’s knowledge, without his help.

But Hunter couldn’t travel with him if he promised to fulfill Michael’s last wish on this Earth. He couldn’t help Thomas get to Tascela if he gave into Michael’s last words.

Hunter looked to be just as torn as Thomas was about what he should do and, watching Hunter struggle to decide whether or not to promise Michael to not take him to his father, Thomas looked away, looking down at Michael.

Only to find that Michael’s eyes were staring up at nothing, their glassy appearance scaring Thomas to death. His chest wasn’t moving up nor down, making Thomas realize that he had stopped breathing. Hunter reached a hand out, placing it on top of Michael’s chest, right above his heart. Seeing his face pale and watching as his friend blinked away tears, Thomas asked a question he was loath to utter.

“Is he dead?”

Hunter simply nodded, bringing his hand back into his lap. He stared at Michael’s body, at the body of his mentor, at the body of the man who Thomas knew had meant the world to him. “Adios,” he whispered, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Thomas blinked in surprise at the Malin word, not knowing that his friend knew the old language of Malin, from back before the Empire had taken over. Before Thomas could ask him about it, a voice rang out.

“There!” Thomas looked up to find a large group of soldiers running towards them. In front of the charge was the first soldier that Hunter had dealt with, the one that Hunter had stabbed in the leg. Both Hunter and Thomas scrambled up, the former of whom with a knife held tightly in his left hand. Spotting his knife on the ground, he picked it up, trying to copy Hunter’s hold on it. Thomas looked over at his friend’s face, trying to figure out what he was planning, trying to figure out how Hunter planned on evading the group of ten soldiers running straight at them.

Hunter’s face was etched in anger and Thomas realized that the only thing flooding through his friend’s mind was anger for Michael’s death and a desire to avenge his mentor. Neither of those things would help them get out of this alive and Thomas knew that it was up to him to ensure their survival.

“We have to go!” he shouted. He sheathed his knife then began to pull at Hunter’s arm. Hunter tried to wrench himself out of his hold, but he quickly stopped, perhaps coming to the realization that it was better for him to live, to not give into his anger and his thirst for revenge. He put away his knife then allowed Thomas to drag him down the street, running away from the soldiers on their heels.

“Over here!” another voice called out. Looking in the direction of the unknown caller, Thomas found Braya standing at the mouth of an alleyway. Her hood was still on and she was gesturing frantically for them to follow her, glancing fearfully back at the soldiers chasing them. “Follow me!”

Hunter changed directions, running towards the alley. Not hesitating even in the slightest, Thomas followed him, staying close behind. He glanced back every few seconds, knowing that the soldiers were sure to have followed them down the alley. Eventually, they stopped at a fork, two different paths in front of them. At the fork stood three horses: Angelina, Hunter’s horse, and a light gray horse with white spots dusting its coat.

“I found them running away from the fight,” Braya explained, sounding out of breath after their sprint. “I knew two of them were yours. I don't know about the gray horse, but she followed me here, so I figured you might know her.”

“I do,” Hunter said, making Thomas blink in confusion. “Her name’s Adelina and she belongs to my mentor.” Then, his voice sounding neutral and devoid of any emotion, he added, “You can use her if you want to come with us.”

Braya whipped her head to look over at Hunter. Thomas did as well, surprised that his friend was offering for the girl to join them. “I can’t come with you!”

“Why not?’ Hunter asked.

Braya shifted her weight, appearing to not have the words to explain herself properly. “I-I--”

“They went into the alley!” someone shouted from behind them. Thomas looked over in the direction, fear flooding through him as he realized that the soldiers were closing in on them.

“They’re right behind us!” he shouted, looking back over at Hunter.

His friend stayed motionless, staring at Braya. “If you stay, the soldiers will catch you. Considering the fact that you helped us escape, they’re going to arrest you for helping us.” Still, the girl hesitated, looking between Hunter and the direction that they had come from. “Braya, please.”

Braya sighed. “Fine. I’ll travel with you.” Quickly, she mounted Adelina, moving in a way that led Thomas to believe that she had ridden before. Hunter got on his horse then looked expectantly at Thomas.

Thomas didn’t move, though, staring at Angelina as he remembered his last ride on her just minutes ago, about how he had fallen off.

“Are you seriously contemplating staying here?” Hunter asked. “After they just ki--”

He quickly broke off, but Thomas could easily finish his question.

After they just killed Michael?

With that reminder, Thomas mounted the golden horse, struggling to get on without help. Once he was on, Hunter went to the right, heading towards the road that Thomas knew would take them to the Tascelan border in the southwest. Braya followed and, once he figured out how to get Angelina moving in that direction, Thomas did as well. He held as tight as he could to his reins, trying to prevent himself from falling again.

“Relax,” Hunter told him. “You’re making her nervous.” Looking down, Thomas found that his friend was right. Appearing to have felt the fear that was coursing through him, Angelina had become nervous, an emotion that was apparent in her pinned ears and her uncertain steps.

“Sorry, Angelina.” Thomas loosened his grip on the reins, but he found himself unable to do much more than that.

“We’re almost to them!” a soldier from behind them called out. Thomas’ breathing picked up at the reminder of who they were running away from and why, making it next to impossible for him to stay relaxed.

“We should hurry,” Braya said, looking behind them and towards the direction of the soldiers. Her voice sounded wavery, making Thomas realize that she was just as scared of the soldiers as he was.

“I agree,” Hunter said. He sounded confident, making Thomas believe that he wasn’t nervous, but Thomas knew that wasn’t true, not when his voice sounded higher-pitched than normal. Appearing to have done so without any prompting--though Thomas knew that was impossible--Hunter’s horse increased his speed. Braya’s horse followed suit and, once Thomas figured out that by pushing his heels into Angelina’s sides, he could do the same, his horse did the same.

“You need to loosen up,” Hunter reminded Thomas. “Don’t fight Angelina’s movement; move with her.”

Thomas closed his eyes, taking a deep breath of air in an attempt to calm down. Surprisingly, he was able to relax and he found that by loosening up and moving with his horse’s movement, he was able to keep his balance more. He opened his eyes, glancing over at Hunter. “Like that?”

Hunter nodded. “Exactly like that.” He paused before explaining, “A horse can sense your tenseness, which causes them to freak out. And a freaked-out horse is not something we want.”

Thomas inhaled sharply, not needing to ask his friend why that was. He could vividly remember Angelina running off, causing him to roll to the ground. “Agreed.”

They continued down the alley in silence, eventually returning to the main road of town. Without asking Thomas about where Tascela was, Hunter turned to the left, heading directly to the southwest.

“How’s your arm?” Braya asked Thomas suddenly.

Blinking in surprise, Thomas looked at his injury. In the wake of receiving more information about his family, Michael’s death, and the subsequent haste to escape from the soldiers, he had forgotten all about it. “It’s alright, I suppose. I sorta forgot about it.”

“Where’s the bolt?” Hunter asked.

Thomas tilted his head to the side. “The what?”

Hunter sighed. “The crossbow bolt. The thing that hit you.”

“Oh.” He wondered briefly what the difference between an arrow and a bolt was, but he pushed away his confusion, instead deciding to answer Hunter’s question. “I took it out.”

“You idiot,” Hunter said, though without any true heat to his words. “How did you stop the bleeding?”

Thomas glanced at his left shoulder, discovering that there was still blood coming out of it. It reminded him of Michael’s wound, about how the blood had poured out of it and pooled beneath him. Shaking his head to clear the unwanted images playing behind his eyes, he focused on answering Hunter’s question.

“I didn’t. It’s still bleeding.”

Braya leaned over closer to Thomas, seemingly in order to look at his injury. “It’s not too deep,” she decided, sitting back in her saddle normally. “I can take care of it once we stop.” She glanced over at Hunter. “That is, if we stop soon.”

“As soon as we get rid of those soldiers, we’re stopping,” Hunter reassured.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

“And how do we do that?” Thomas asked.

He watched Hunter frown, appearing to think of what to do. After a few seconds, his expression cleared and he nodded his head in the direction of the pine forest beside the town. “We can hide in there. The leaves will hide us from sight and it’s in the direction of Tascela.”

Braya looked up sharply at him. “Tascela? I thought you said you were heading towards the south.”

Hunter blinked, glancing over at the girl. Thomas was surprised that she paid that much attention to what they had said earlier. “In my defense,” Hunter said, “Tascela is to the south.”

Braya raised an eyebrow, seemingly not convinced of his words. “I think it’s more to the west than the south. I suppose your reason for traveling isn’t true, either?”

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, I’m no--”

“We’re on the way to meet my father,” Thomas cut in. Hunter looked over at Thomas, appearing to be upset that he had revealed that to the girl. Suddenly, he realized that maybe Hunter was changing his mind about their reason for traveling upon Michael’s plea for him to promise that he wouldn’t take Thomas to Matheson. “And my mother,” he quickly added, figuring that Hunter wouldn’t have any issue with that goal and also discovering that he wanted to meet Kathleen now that he knew about her. He glanced at Hunter, trying to judge his facial expression. For the second time that day, he saw a flash of guilt pass over Hunter’s features. But his friend quickly looked away and, when he looked back at Thomas, it was gone, making him wonder if he had even seen it in the first place. “Where are you going?” he asked Braya, focusing on her instead of his and Hunter’s journey.

“I’m heading to Tascela,” she answered.

Thomas blinked, surprised to hear that she was heading in the same direction. “Really?” When she nodded, he asked, “Why?”

Braya shifted in her saddle, looking away from Thomas and at the scenery around them. They had left the town behind, instead riding through the forest Hunter was wanting to stop in. The cobblestone path had given way to simple dirt, muffling the sounds of their horses’ hoofbeats. Pine needles were on the ground everywhere and Thomas could hear the chittering of the squirrels around them and the chirping sounds of birds. The dense forest hid much of the sunlight, making it seem later than it actually was.

“Is this a good spot to stop?” Braya asked, changing the subject.

Hunter considered her question, looking around them for a couple of seconds. Then, he pointed over to where a pine tree had fallen, leaving a small clear area of land perfect for the three of them. “That’s good.” He dismounted and both Braya and Thomas followed suit. He led the way off of the path, taking them further into the forest to the area he had chosen as their campsite.

CHAPTER TWELVE

At their proposed campsite, they tied their horses to a nearby tree, ensuring that they wouldn’t run off. After removing their saddles and other riding equipment, Hunter left, claiming that he wanted to scout the area. Wanting something to do, Thomas busied himself with collecting firewood, thinking that the task was something necessary for a campsite.

“Thomas,” Braya called. He looked over at her, finding that she was digging in her bag, seemingly looking for something. “Can I treat your shoulder?”

“I’m fine,” he protested.

“And I don’t believe you,” she retorted. “Come here so I can take care of it.”

Blinking slightly at Braya’s insistence over taking care of his shoulder, Thomas placed his wood--which was pretty much non-existent--on the ground, sitting down on the fallen tree. “I can do it myself.”

Braya continued looking inside of her bag, a small frown creasing her features as she hunted for whatever it was that she wanted. “It’s easier for me to do it. Besides, I’m pretty certain I have more experience than you.” Looking up for a brief second, she saw Thomas’ confused face, and she explained what she meant. “My grandmother--she’s the one that raised me--is a healer. She taught me everything she knew about medicine, making me more qualified than you, or Hunter, to deal with this sort of thing. Besides, I enjoy this sort of thing.”

“Blood? You like blood?”

Braya laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, I sound like a person who enjoys the pain of others. No, I don’t like seeing people in pain, but I like helping them not feel pain anymore.” She paused before asking, “Does that make sense?”

Thomas tilted his head. “I suppose.”

Finally getting all of her supplies out, Braya settled on Thomas’ left, looking at his wound. “You have to take off your shirt so I can see it better.”

Thomas blushed. “Do I really have to? It looks pretty visible to me.”

Braya nodded. “If you want me to treat it correctly, I need more visibility.” When Thomas still hesitated, Braya sighed. “Thomas, I get your modesty, but if you don’t want an infection or to not pass out, you have to take off your shirt.”

“Fine,” Thomas said, understanding Braya’s words. Slowly, Thomas took off his shirt, wincing as he did so. The shirt had become stuck with the dried blood, making it painful to take off. After it was off, he looked away as Braya looked at the wound.

Seeming satisfied that she could treat it, Braya grabbed a small bottle of alcohol and a cloth she had gotten from her pack. “This might sting a little,” she warned as she poured the alcohol onto the cloth.

Thomas clenched his hands in preparation for the pain he knew was about to come. “Just do it.”

Braya nodded, then pressed the cloth to Thomas’ shoulder. Thomas inhaled sharply as the alcohol seeped into the open wound, making it sting. His hands tightened, then--when the stinging subsided a few seconds later--loosened them. Thomas released a breath he didn’t know that he had been holding.

“Finished,” Braya said, leaning away from him. She then grabbed the bandages. Braya wrapped Thomas’ wound quickly, moving with precise and certain movements, finishing bandaging his shoulder in just a few minutes. “All done. Can I have your shirt?”

Thomas grabbed his shirt from the ground. “I kinda need it, don’t I?”

“You can wear a different shirt for the time being. Unless you want to wear one that’s bloody and torn, of course.”

Thomas was about to argue that it wasn’t when he caught sight of the left sleeve. Just as Braya had said, the sleeve was torn where the bolt had gone through it and the tear was covered with blood. A little sheepishly, he handed it to Braya.”Do you mind fixing it?”

“I wouldn’t have asked for it if I did,” Braya said, looking at the damage Thomas had done to the shirt. While she was doing that, Thomas grabbed his own pack, pulling out a clean shirt. He pulled it on, mindful of the bandages on his left shoulder. “I can give it back to you in a day or so,” Braya concluded, putting the shirt in her pack.

They went quiet, both unsure what to say. After a few seconds of the awkward silence, Braya asked, “Who was the man that saved Hunter?”

Thomas looked down at the ground, sadness quickly rushing through him. True, he hadn’t known Michael well, but the man had died right in front of him and he knew how much he meant to his friend. “His name is--was--Michael. He was Hunter’s mentor and he took Hunter in after his parents died.”

“So he and Hunter were pretty close then, huh?” Thomas nodded, not responding vocally to Braya’s question. “You said mentor. What was he teaching Hunter?”

“He was a Tascelan Archer,” a voice said. Braya and Thomas looked up, surprised to see Hunter walking towards them. “He was training me to become an archer as well.” He sat down on the tree next to them, on the right side of Thomas. He was silent for a couple of seconds, a faraway look in his eyes. Then, shaking his head, he asked Thomas, “How is your shoulder?”

Thomas shrugged. “It’s fine. Braya treated it so I’ll be okay.”

Hunter nodded. “Good. I want to leave as soon as possible in order to put as much distance between us and the soldiers.” He looked at Braya. “I know you might not trust us right now, but I need to know: where exactly in Tascela are you going to?”

Braya pursed her lips, looking torn as to whether or not she wanted to give them that information. Finally, seemingly coming to a decision, she said, “The castle.”

“We’re heading there as well,” Hunter told her, taking out a map from his pack. He pointed at a large dot near the middle of the map that was labeled Tascela. Next to it was a small picture of a castle. “We can accompany you to the castle, which is a five or six day journey, depending on how quick we can move.”

Thomas frowned. “Where did Michael say my mom lived?”

“Northfield,” Hunter replied quickly. He pointed at a tiny dot located just north of Castle Tascela with the name Northfield written beside it. Just looking at the name brought chills down Thomas’ spine. That was where his mother, step-father, and half-brother were at that very moment. Hunter continued talking, not noticing Thomas’ fixation on the small dot. “It’s only a day’s journey away from the castle. We can go to the castle first and drop Braya off then head north to meet your mother.”

Thomas shook his head. “I-I think I want to meet her first.” Seeing Hunter’s eyes widen--seemingly in surprise--he hurried to explain himself. “Michael said that my father is a bad person.” He felt Braya’s questioning gaze, aware of the fact that the girl longed to ask who exactly his parents were and why they were going to them. He ignored her, though, in favor of talking about Michael’s words from earlier. “He also said that my mother can explain why I grew up in Ridgecrest. So, I want to meet her first, to ask her about my father and why I’ve never met her and my father before.”

Hunter searched Thomas’ face for a few seconds, appearing to look for something in his facial expression. What that was, Thomas didn’t know, but Hunter eventually nodded. “Okay. We’ll head to Northfield and stay with Fields for a day or two. Then, we’ll go to Castle Tascela with Braya.” He glanced over at Braya. “If that’s okay with you.”

Braya hesitated before agreeing. “That’s fine with me.”

Hunter folded the map up and put it back in his pack. “If we’re all ready, then let’s make our way into Tascela.”

Braya started. “Now?”

Hunter shrugged. “Why not? We have a long trip ahead of us and we need to stay in front of the soldiers.”

“Fair enough.” Braya stood up, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “I’m going to go look for water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” With that, she left, leaving Thomas and Hunter alone on the fallen tree.

Thomas glanced over at Hunter, trying to figure out what his friend was thinking about. Judging from the distant look in his eyes and the sadness gracing his features, he was thinking about Michael. Deciding that it would be best for him to let Hunter be alone in his own thoughts, he stayed silent, beginning to turn the day’s events over in his head.

He knew his mother and his father. Not only that, but he was days away from meeting them for the first time. What were they like? He knew his mother had dark hair with eyes the color of a forest, but what about his father? Michael had said that he looked like him, so maybe Matheson had blonde hair and blue eyes? But those were only physical traits; what were their personalities? Judging from his dream memory of her, Kathleen cared for him deeply. But if she loved him so much, what had made her give him up? What had made her leave him when he was three? And then there were Michael’s words about Matheson to consider. Why did he say that Matheson was a bad man? Was he talking about his actions as the Aspayan Hero? Or was there something else that Michael was talking about? Was it something to do about Matheson being Michael’s first apprentice and failing to become an archer? And was Matheson really so bad that Michael made Hunter promise not to take Thomas to him? Suddenly, he realized that Hunter hadn’t told Braya why they were going to the castle, only stating that they would go in order to bring Braya there. Was Hunter planning on not taking him to meet Matheson?

“Are you going to do what Michael told you to do?” Thomas asked without any warning, desperate to know the answer to his question.

Hunter blinked a few times, coming back to reality. “And what did he tell me to do?” He sounded genuinely confused, as if he truly didn’t know what Thomas was getting at.

“To not take me to meet my father.” He spoke matter-of-factly, wondering briefly why Hunter didn’t understand his question.

Hunter stayed silent for a long time, long enough that Thomas thought that he was never going to respond. Finally, he answered Thomas’ question, his words sounding devoid of any emotion, sounding almost like he was hiding something from Thomas. “It’s your decision, Thomas. It’s your father and, in my mind, I believe you should be given the chance to meet him. I’m giving you that chance, but it’s your choice in the end. It’s your decision about whether you want to meet him or not.”

Words from his dream memory that morning floated into Thomas’ head, cementing his earlier decision about traveling to Castle Tascela. “I would rather know them as they really are and not the fictitious copies of them I have in my mind. Without a doubt, I would like to meet them. At least once in my lifetime.”

“I want to meet him. And it would mean a lot to me if you brought me to Castle Tascela.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Hunter said.

Thomas frowned. “Even though Michael made you promise?” Hunter looked away, his hands clenching. Suddenly, Thomas realized that he had made a mistake by mentioning that promise. It had been Michael’s last words and a promise that Hunter was planning on breaking. “I’m sorry. Forget I--”

“I never promised him,” Hunter said, his voice sounded like it was filled with emotions. He turned to face Thomas, but the emotions in his voice weren’t anywhere on his face. He was holding them back, trying to contain them inside of himself. “He died before I could. So there’s no promise for me to break.”

“Okay,” Thomas said. “I wasn’t trying to sway your decision. I’m fine with whatever.”

“Good,” Hunter said, looking away.

“About Michael,” Thomas started to say. “I’m--”

“Please stop,” Hunter interrupted. “Just, please don’t talk about him anymore.”

“Alright, that’s fine.”

They stayed quiet, their silence only broken by the sounds of the breeze blowing past them. After a while, Hunter spoke. “Michael was the first person I met who truly cared about me. Besides my parents, of course. With him, I felt like I had a home, a family if you will. He could always read me, always knew exactly what I was thinking at any given moment.” Hunter chuckled. “It was frustrating at times, since I could never get away with anything like I could with others, but--looking back on it--I guessed I liked that aspect about Michael.

“From my very first conversation I had with him, I wanted to be his apprentice. At first, he said that I was too young but two weeks after my sixteenth birthday, he finally gave in to my begging. For ten months, he taught me, teaching me everything from geography of Esmaya to archery to the political world of Tascela. And then it was taken away from me, when Wel--Aspaya came out with a new law, banning all the archers. I was angry--still angry right now.” Thomas frowned, wondering what law he was talking about and what he meant by the fact that the Tascelan Archers had been banned. Before he could ask, Hunter continued speaking. “Everything I’ve been hoping for seven years has been ripped away from me. And, less than a week after that, Michael’s dead. He’s dead and now I’m back to what I felt when I was six, my second family gone. My second home gone.” Hunter looked away, not looking at Thomas while he spoke. “I’m lost, Thomas, in that dark, dark ocean I was in when my parents died, and I don’t know how to become found again. I don’t know the way out.” His voice had dropped to a whisper, barely able to be heard.

“I’m still here,” Thomas said, reaching out a hand. He paused, then decided to grab Hunter’s shoulder, trying to physically pull back out of the dark place he was in. Instead of leaning away from Thomas, Hunter turned into it, looking back at Thomas. “I’m still here and I care about you. I know that Michael meant a lot to you and I’m sorry about your loss. I never got the chance to meet him formally, something that I will always grieve for. It might feel like the end of the world with his passing, but you’re not lost. You’re seen, Hunter, by me. I see you and I care for you. Let me in and I’ll help you find the way out. Tell me how to help and I will do anything.”

Hunter stayed quiet at the end of Thomas’ words, simply looking at Thomas, searching for something that Thomas didn’t know. Eventually, he looked away and sighed. “I know you’re here, Thomas. And I know you care. And that’s all I need right now. Just, sit with me, in silence.”

So Thomas sat next to Hunter, a hand still on his friend’s shoulder while they sat in silence. The sounds of the forest reached their ears, the birds chirping and the squirrels jumping from tree to tree. Wind blew past them, the coldness seeping into Thomas. He shivered slightly, but he didn’t move, feeling like he had to stay present with Hunter.

And that was how Braya found them a few minutes later, when she walked back into their makeshift campsite, a full water bottle in her hand. Starting slightly, Thomas removed his hand from Hunter’s shoulder, instead placing it in his lap.

Hunter stood up and Thomas felt that the moment that they had been having had been broken, forcing them both back to reality and on what they needed to do. “Let’s go,” Hunter said, making his way over to his horse.

“You never told me what you two are doing out here,” Braya commented, following him over to where they had tied their horses up.

“Thomas already told you and we talked about where we’re going earlier,” Hunter said, slightly dismissive. He started to put his saddle on then untied his horse. “We’re going to meet Thomas’ parents.”

“That still doesn’t explain that much,” Braya argued, untying and saddling Adelina up as well. “Why is it so important that you would fight with soldiers to get Thomas to Tascela?”

“Why does it matter?” Hunter retorted. Braya stiffened, obviously hurt by Hunter’s snapish reply.

“Hunter,” Thomas said softly, standing up from the tree and moving to stand next to Hunter. “What’s wrong with telling her why we’re traveling?”

Hunter didn’t say anything as he moved his attention onto Thomas’ horse, getting Angelina ready to go for him. Seeing that his friend wasn’t planning on answering his question anytime soon, Thomas turned to Braya.

“I’ve never met my family before. Knowing that, Hunter decided to come to talk to me when he happened upon some information about them. And now we’re here, heading to Northfield to meet my mom.”

“That’s exciting. But what about your father? You mentioned him briefly before.”

“He’s at Castle Tascela right now, which is why we’re stopping there.”

“Is he an advisor or something?”

“Or something,” Hunter cut in before Thomas could answer the question. Thomas frowned, opening his mouth to actually answer. Hunter silenced him with a glare and Thomas’ mouth snapped shut. He shoved Angelina’s reins in Thomas’ hands. “How ab--”

“Search the entire forest!” a far-off voice said. Their conversation quickly cut off as they heard the sounds of people looking for them. “They can’t have gotten too far.”

“We have to go, now,” Hunter hissed, mounting his horse quickly. His movements were always graceful with the horse, almost like he was born to ride. Compared to Thomas, Hunter was completely at ease in the saddle, almost like the horse was an extension of himself.

Thomas grabbed his pack then clumsily got onto Angelina. His heart was pounding, fear pushing him to move faster. Instead of helping him, it served to make him less comfortable in the saddle and he had to force himself to relax in order to prevent him from making the golden horse nervous again.

“Why are they so intent on capturing you two?” Braya asked, getting onto Adelina.

“It’s my fault,” he and Hunter both answered at the same time. The two boys froze, looking at each other in surprise.

Braya smirked. “It’s probably both of you that they want. I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Hunter smiled at her. “Oh, I’m not too certain about that one. You did agree to travel with us, making you just as guilty as us.” He led the way back to the path. “Come on. We have to get ahead of the search party.”

Thomas followed behind Hunter and Braya quickened her pace so that she was even with him. “Why did you think it’s your fault that the soldiers are after us?”

“Today’s my sixteenth birthday.”

Braya nodded in understanding. “So they want you because of the Enlistment Act.” After Thomas nodded, Braya added, “Happy birthday, by the way. Though it seems your birthday is pretty chaotic.”

Thomas laughed. “I can easily say that it’s been the weirdest birthday I’ve ever had, what with the soldiers, seeing Hunter again, and learning about my parents.”

Braya inclined her head towards Hunter. “Why does he think it’s his fault?”

Thomas shifted in his saddle. He remembered Hunter mentioning something about the archers being banned, making him feel like that had to do with his guilt over the soldiers chasing them. Before he could reply, Hunter turned to look back at them.

“Let’s stay quiet. I don’t want the soldiers to find us.”

Braya and Thomas shared a look before they went quiet, their horses trotting after Hunter. Slowly, Thomas was learning how to ride and he kept his balance in the saddle easily. The three of them made it through the forest, but they stayed on the road, intent on getting as far away from the soldiers that they could. With every step that they traveled, Thomas could feel his excitement and sadness growing. On one hand, he was excited to be on his way to meet Kathleen and Matheson, but--on the other hand--it meant leaving behind his home. It was two different kinds of emotions, one that made his heart rise high within him and one that made his heart sink deep inside of him. So, he decided to look to the future, a future where he could say that he had two parents who cared deeply for him. He pushed forward through the sadness, willing his excitement to drown it out. And when they left Ridgecrest completely, crossing over into Tascela that evening, he could honestly say that his sadness was gone, leaving behind only excitement in its wake.