Vision returned to Rafa for a blink, then vanished. For a moment, there were leaves overhead, and tall, dark orange trees with wide trunks, then came darkness again. He could feel his body rolling, or being rolled, rather? A moment of sight returned as an ant crawled near both of his eyes on the dirt floor where he laid.

“Yes. Yes. This must be the wrong one, um-hm,” an unfamiliar, raspy voice said above him.

Rafa could feel hands pushing somewhere on his torso, gripping then pushing. With consciousness taking its sweet time returning, an overwhelming shimmer of danger vibrated through his body. It stopped, then started again with each push.

“Inis, my Inis. I give my life.”

Some wits returned. An old man had pushed Rafa’s unconscious body across the forest floor toward a small pond, it seemed. They had neared it now, and if he’d remained unconscious for even a few more minutes—

Rafa sprang to his feet, chest rising and falling at high speeds. Hunger pierced his stomach like a knife. He couldn’t catch his breath enough to speak.

A short old man with scraggly gray hair beneath a straw hat stood before Rafa, flinching and grabbing his wooden staff off the ground behind him. He held it out in front of himself as if Rafa were a wild animal, ready to pounce. “So close. I was so close!” The geezer snorted, as if clearing phlegm from his throat.

Rafa stepped back, palms facing forward. “J-just calm down. Where am I?”

“See—my vision was correct. Indeed, oh yes indeed.” The man giggled, bouncing up and down like a child. “Should I say our vision, Inis?”

“Inis? What are you talking about?” Rafa said. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding. He shot a glance left, then right. A vast forest surrounded him. But, something was different about it, with shining light piercing through the trees as if each ray were palpable, flowers with colors brighter than anything he’d ever seen before. This wasn’t home.

“Manners. Where are they? I may ask myself,” the old man said. He bowed, as though he forgot his previous malicious intentions for only a moment. Dropping his wooden staff to the ground, he raised both fists, with both legs bent, readying himself. “Wouldn’t be right to end you if the odds weren’t even. No, Inis wouldn’t like that.”

Rafa’s face changed from disgust to confusion. Where was he? Where was Niklas? Another surge of vibration lanced through his body. His eyes locked onto the old man, who was now inching his feet forward, dukes up. In Rafa’s mind, he could feel—see—the options the old man had to attack, like each limb had a few possible, designated, invisible attack patterns.

“Don’t let my age fool you.” He shook both fists, squinting one eye. After taking a few more steps toward Rafa, he sent out his right arm flying forward.

Rafa had never been in a fight, ever. Why, in this moment, could he feel the arc, feel the direction of the fist coming at him, along with the answer to it?

He stepped to the left, pivoting. The old man’s fist missing his shoulder, Rafa flung an open hand into the man’s chest, sending him tumbling backwards.

Reflex to 3

Hand-to-hand to 2

The feeling of danger subsided. Taking a moment to look down at both of his hands, Rafa couldn’t believe the innate decisions he’d just made. Where did that come from? And what was that vague notion of a feeling that rung in his heart moments ago?

The old man huffed, reaching for his fallen straw hat beside him. He slammed it onto his head, pulling it down with strength, causing both flaps to cover the sides of his face, sitting in his own rage.

With a moment to think, Rafa took his focus off of the downed, fuming old man.

A small cottage with clean, light wood stood just next to the pond where the old man tried to drown him. A table with tools and small animal skins atop it was against the side of the home, a small window perched just above that.

The hissy attacker pushed himself to his feet. “That’s not all I got, you little—Somethin’—well I got a bunch’a words I want to call you, boy. Again!”

A few birds flew from their nests that hung in a nearby tree—the man’s loud, gritty voice disturbing them. He raised both knuckles again, squeezing.

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Rafa’s focus snapped to the right, away from the man, eyes focused into the depths of the forest. It was an inkling of something, only a feeling, but something was coming for them, for them both.

Reflex to 4

Two large, ragged brown tigers leaped from the bushes about a stone’s throw away. They were like no tiger Rafa had ever seen, and he couldn’t make sense of it. Sabertooth, maybe? Immediately, the old man cowered in fear, shoulders wincing.

Despite the fear clouding his brain, a pattern emerged to Rafa: after the sense of danger arose, it’s as if the sensory experience became so great everything would slow down, and he can discern his target’s movements with relative understanding—dampening emotions to a point.

Does he stay to help this man that just attempted to murder him? To fisticuff him? Rafa had to make a snap decision now.

Both tigers had two long, matte black tusks protruding from their top lip, both points like spears. They charged forward, one going for the shuddering old man, and one for the boy.

Rafa bounded forward, taking hold of the dark wooden stave. He stood with it in both hands, watching the tigers’ path of attack.

“Oh, this is the end,” the old man said, his voice quivering.

The thought of watching this old man being torn apart right in front of him shocked Rafa’s system into action. He sprinted forward as the tiger opened its mouth to clamp onto the old man, exposing a long, snake-like tongue. Mere moments from disaster, Rafa swung the walkingstick, catching the tiger square in jaw, rocking its head.

Quarterstaff to 2

Due to Rafa’s strike, the tiger missed its mark, the man’s neck. The large body of fur slammed into the old man, knocking him backwards for the second time in one day.

Rafa felt the danger too late. The second tiger bit down onto his left arm, the long tooth puncturing through his flesh. The tiger thrashed his head, pulling Rafa from his feet. The beast dragged him on his back against the forest floor, arm in its mouth, gushing blood.

The pain seared up his arm and into his torso, not to mention the rocks and roots scraping against his back as well. The agony came full force.

He still maintained a grip on the walking-stick. With everything he could muster, he swung the weapon overhead, slamming down on the tiger’s cranium.

The first blow, the second, nothing. More thrashing, more dragging, the sabertooth wouldn’t give up its prey. Instead of a swing, Rafa changed his hand position, thrusting the end of the staff forward.

With great force, he plunged the weapon's tip into the vile beast’s eye. The tiger released its tight hold on Rafa’s arm, and he slid the wound out of the long tooth, causing even more bleeding.

The second tiger was stunned, reeling back in pain.

Without hesitation, Rafa dashed in the other direction, toward the first tiger. He cocked back the bloody staff, planted his feet, and swung. The tiger held the old man’s foot in its mouth, but no longer. Rafa’s weapon slapped against its skull with such force that the tiger fell to the floor, stilled.

Quarterstaff to 4

Now lifeless, it dropped its grip on the man’s foot, allowing him to scurry free, rushing to Rafa’s side. The man gripped onto Rafa’s shirt, putting himself furthest away from the still conscious sabertooth with a hurt eye.

Rafa gasped as the pain filled his senses, arm limp. He held out the staff toward a true wild, gruesome animal. With one eye swollen shut, the beast turned and sprinted away, disappearing into the distance with immense speed.

The old man’s chuckle was quiet, then grew—until a deep belly laugh resounded from his mouth. He stepped out from behind Rafa, standing nearly half his height. “That’s right, you ruffian!” The old man jumped, managing a one inch vertical, throwing his fist into the air. “Come back and we’ll skin you like your friend here!”

Rafa squinted, turning to look at this newfound strength emanating from such a feeble, scared crone just moments before. Another wave of pain ballooned in his upper arm.

“I’m Ardler,” the old man bowed again, “and that looks painful.” Ardler scowled at the open puncture in Rafa’s arm. “Come. You are clearly the right one. Not the wrong one, oh, no.” He gestured for Rafa to follow him, heading toward his cottage by the water with a limp.

The right one? A few minutes ago, he was the wrong one, being pushed into a pond by the man, attempting to end his life. What does he mean by all this? Confusion found itself right at home within Rafa for the past hour. Or had it been hours?

“You wanted me dead,” Rafa said, not moving an inch.

Ardler froze. He cleared his throat as he marched in place to turn to Rafa. “Oh dear heavens on high and low and in the seas and in the west, no.” He bowed a third time, this time with a bit more fear in his movements. “I would never do such a thing to the Favored One. No. My Inis would have my head. I had the vision backwards, you see. The other boy I saw, in fact, is the wrong one.”

Rafa held in a reaction to Ardler’s words—the other boy.

Niklas?

“It would be an honor to aid you. Please, if you will be of grace, of courtesy, allow me.” Ardler turned, taking another step toward his cottage with oh so short of a stride.

Rafa took in the surrounding forest with darting eyes, not out of enjoyment, but fear. Where would he go? Could he take off running—now—never to worry about this man again?

“Where else would I go?” Rafa said in a whisper.

“What was that, my young friend?” Ardler continued to walk, not noticing the boy’s apprehension toward following him. “I’ll get a stew ready as well for you. Rabbit, my boy, rabbit. Very good.”

Rafa put a hand over his stomach, feeling the gurgle, the hunger pains. He didn’t know where he was, but he knew bleeding out was a very real possibility. Starving didn’t help the situation either.

It took a moment, but the idea dawned on him: how was it that Inis—whoever that may be—continued to pop out from Ardler’s lips? Could that be the white-haired woman? And this old man in the middle of the forest. How is he connected to her? Beyond all of that, Ardler could turn on him again at any moment.

Rafa closed his eyes as his thoughts bombarded him with worry, pain. He exhaled, then with a sigh, glimpsed firelight dancing through the wooden window to the cottage, illuminating the ground with an orange gleam.

A sensation of hunger like a needle pierced his stomach.

Rabbit stew.