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Elizabeth Stroudwater

Wyatt and Earl's abrupt departure less than an hour ago from Rustbank left me without purpose. I sit still at the graveyard before Leonard's Grave, with Esther and Dakota lost in thought. Lost in jumbled thoughts that jump all over. The size of the fox that Wyatt has brought along on his journeys surprises me, but its stature is calming. Dakota comes over and nuzzles up close to me; I guess he can sense my sadness. Esther is dozing off and has fallen asleep a while ago. Too much has happened to the little girl. Leonard…

I've known Leonard for a long time. Not as long as Earl, but a while nonetheless. I might not have been very close with him until the break, but that doesn't matter. The time we spent running from the approaching doom that is the break brought us all together. It's going to take a while for all of us to get over his death, just like Lonnie. Although, I don't think Esther and Wyatt have processed it either. Only me and Earl have.

I still can't believe that Earl thought Wyatt was a psychopathic murderer. I know he's been taught almost his whole life to follow Hunters, but one must think for oneself. Act for themselves. Which is why I still sit here in indecision.

I want to do something to help. No, I need to do something. I've been useless for far too long. Taking care of Esther and sitting pretty is not enough for me. I just don't know what to do. I know I need to get a Sigil, but how to go about that is beyond me.

So, I just sit here, staring at my dead friend's grave, hoping for an idea to come to me. The sun is almost down, and only a tiny bead of light remains. I should go back to our room and put Esther to bed. Today has been too much for her. Too much for all of us. Esther has just retreated into her little ball of sadness once more that we only recently pulled her out from her brother's death.

Earl has put his frustrations outward, grieving from accusations and irritability. I hope he grows out of it soon. I know he only wants to make the world safer, but it won't work. The world isn't all black and white. Greys are mixed in. I would know. I am one, after all.

Wyatt, on the other hand, is harder to read. I can't entirely tell if he's sad, angry, or apathetic at Leonard's death. He doesn't really show any of it. He didn't even cry at the burial; he only wiped his eyes here or there. I worry for him. I think the stress of the world has just condensed all his emotions into a tight ball. And he doesn't even know about it, subconsciously suppressing them all just to survive.

If he had ever let them out before, they would have led to his death, made him slow or hesitant, that I understand. But now it's become worse, I feel. He never talks to anyone about anything other than what needs to be done. He's so focused on survival that he's not even living.

If there is anything I can do to help, then I want to. I just don't know how.

I notice the final bead of light from the sun fade and decide to finally get up. Better get back to the hotel. When I do, however, I hear the snap of a lighter behind me. Rapidly, I turn and look behind me. A tall man in leather stands behind me, illuminated by the fire between his hands that is lighting his cigar.

I recognize the man, Johnny, the Gunfighter. What's he doing here? Why is he standing behind me? I quickly talk to him seeking out his reason for being here and breaking the silence. Maybe he's just looking for a grave of a fallen friend.

"What are you doing here, sir? Have you come to pay your respects to the dead?"

The man clears his throat and swipes away the fire in his hands, the lighter clacking as he closes it and puts it away. Then, he takes one puff as he answers me.

"You could say that. I make it a point to learn and memorize the names of all who die under me. Even if they are just a waterboy or passing by. Names have power, and by remembering their names, I keep them alive."

A gentle smoke wades from his lips as he rights himself to lock eyes with me. A slight shimmer of golden light glazes his pupils as we share focus.

"I could ask you the same, though, girl. What are you still doing here? Your friends left long ago, and I can see the little one beside you is dreadfully tired. This world is for the living, not the dead. You should pay your respects and move on."

Johnny's reasoning for being in the graveyard is surprising. I'd never think a man such as him, with as much power as he has, would bother memorizing a common man's name such as Leonard.

His genuine care for those who have passed fills me with a weird sense of melancholy. How many has he seen die to feel this way? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? Who knows. I doubt even he does. His mind is probably a hundred times more depressing than this whole graveyard beside Rustbank.

I can just imagine it. Whenever he thinks about a fallen friend or acquaintance, he has to wade through hundreds of other headstones to find the one he seeks to reminisce on. I quickly push this image from my mind as I scramble to answer the man, for he is looking around oddly.

"I–. Well, I have been trying to think of something to do. Something to help the town while my friends are gone. I know I'm only an ordinary girl, but surely there is something I can do to ease their burden. Help lighten the danger that is coming toward us. I just don't know what."

He then asks me a question without even looking at me; he just keeps staring into the depths of the graveyard.

"Is that truly what you seek? To join them in this struggle? In this fight for survival? You can walk away. Live a life deep in the Territories, not safe, but far less likely to die than our here."

I nod and immediately answer. No thought is needed. I've wanted nothing more than to be able to fight alongside Wyatt and Earl. It hurts so deeply to stay on the sidelines, unable to help. Or even not being present for a battle. The fight against the bandits in the dunes made me realize how much I want to help, even if it threatens my life.

"Yes, that's what I want. More than anything. I want to fight. I don't want to be a scared little girl on the sidelines."

Johnny looks me straight in the eyes after my words, making me uncomfortable and a bit scared. I can feel my heart skip a beat as his eyes change colors with a yellow sparkle. But instead of growing cowardly, I follow Wyatt's lead, the man who seemingly cannot feel fear. I don't step backward in fright. I stand straight and stare at the deadly man dead on.

He asks me one more question without breaking eye contact.

"You know you will die, no? To keep up with a boy like Wyatt is death to all."

His words only hit me; they do not budge me. I--- I can die. As long as my death has a purpose, I have no issue with death. I muster up the courage that I didn't think I had.

"That is fine."

After a few moments of tense eye contact, Johnny breaks the stares and laughs. His head turns to the side as he remarks about something I don't fully understand, his voice turning hoarse while he speaks.

"You remind me of a little girl I once knew. She was so eager to join the Hunters that she fled home, faked her age, and applied. The girl was incredibly talented, an expert sharpshooter, and born with a frame of forged iron. She could keep up with even the strongest or fastest of Unsigiled men. Only when a Sigil is introduced do the genders become more equal in power. The girl ranked top in her recruitment of over ten thousand. The only girl in the top one hundred. The only girl in the top ten.

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

The only girl to ever be number one in the recruitment process that goes over the toughness of the physical, mental, and spirit. She was only sixteen when she was accepted and fifteen when she applied and was tested. I've never seen someone so hardworking and determined. She'd train until the sun rose, and the minute she woke up, she'd return to practicing her marksmanship and acrobatics. And it was all just to live up to her father's expectation, to make him proud."

I look at him oddly, not understanding what he's saying. How do I remind him of her? I share zero things in common with her. I'm not talented, I'm not a marksman, and I'm certainly not a Hunter.

Full of confusion, I bring this up to him as he takes a weird pause in his speech.

"How do I remind you of her? I am nothing like her. And what happened to her? Can we get her to come to help? It sounds like she'd be amazing to have on our side."

Johnny's voice hitches momentarily, a pitch change that makes me realize what he might be talking about. Deep sadness touches me the second he speaks again as I assume how the story ends.

"She was sent to the Bloodeagles, a topnotch group of Hunters that were recruiting that year. The average Sigil among them was 4th, and their leader was a Frontrunner, something only seen amidst the best of the best. Even within a group such as that, she excelled, slaying a Sigiled within her first week of hunting.

However, her lies were shown when she tried to consume the Sigil from the creature she had slain. She was too young for the Ether within. Despite her skills, talent, and determination, her weakness was that she was too determined. Too eager. Too confident. The typical tradition filled with excitement and hope turned into a mournful day as the Ether ran through her unready body and left her dead.

You have similar eyes. Orbs filled with sparkling determination and wit. You just haven't been allowed to bloom. I wish to give you that opportunity. I'll help you get a Sigil and gain the strength to fight. Every soldier matters when survival is the goal."

His story only fills me with depression and melancholy as I still don't understand why he told me to only say we have similar eyes. It just doesn't make sense. But his ending with wanting to allow me to bloom strikes true, hope blossoming in my heart.

I ask him what the purpose of the story was. I understand that I am being blunt, but obviously, I did not get the point that I feel is more important than being tactful.

"Thank you. I appreciate the chance you'll give me, but why did you tell the story about the girl? I don't understand."

Johnny turns and again looks me dead in the eye, this time without sparkling irises or pupils. He puffs from his cigar before snuffing it out on his leather jacket. Then, he bends down slightly to meet my gaze even more perfectly.

"It is a warning. That those who are around you are above your level. You walk amongst a man with the potential to topple mountains. You walk amongst a man who can change fate as it stands. Do not become overconfident, arrogant, or hasty.

For people like us who only have determination, it is best to be slow and careful in our rise. I wish to never see your corpse in a ditch or be the one to bury you because you did not heed my warnings.

Now come, follow me."

His words strike a chord with me, and I instantly recognize the men he talks about. Wyatt, Earl, and that hooded figure Virgil. My gut just tells me those are who he talks about. I cement his words deeply into my mind as advice to not forget.

Because I truly understand the difference in talent, I think more so than anyone.

Wyatt appeared to us as a young man capable of killing. Almost as if he was born to do it on top of being impossible to kill. A lethal wound on any other man is just a scratch to he who is called Wendigo.

And Earl? Despite not even having a Sigil, he could help Wyatt fight. He created tools in the middle of a desert that could topple the scales and make us survive. His intelligence and ability to plan ahead are things I admire.

Even the man I heard about and only seen glimpses of, Virgil, he's fantastic. I'm so glad that Wyatt found him, but he's honestly terrifying. The way his feet make no sound and how he just sinks into shadows. I'm not sure where his talents come from, but I've heard bits and pieces about his past, none of which are pleasant.

All the while, I struggle to even help. I'm barely able to give medical aid and am forced to be a burden at all other times. Especially when I was hurt. I barely made a difference in the fight, but I almost got killed for it.

I make a promise to Johnny to be careful and not be arrogant or ignorant of any threat. But I do ask him where we're going at the same time as he begins to walk away.

"I promise, Johnny. I won't go against your advice. But where are we going? Esther is still right here even if she is asleep, and so is Dakota."

Johnny turns back and addresses my concerns before continuing his walk.

"She can sleep where we're going. An old friend just came into town an hour ago, and he can help you out a bit. I'd rather do it myself, but I must check on something important before the Demon Of Storms arrives. Many of my men have not yet returned from the missions I sent them on; I need to ensure they are fine."

I respond to him as I pick up Esther in my arms and tsk at Dakota to follow. The fox does and continues to surprise me with its intelligence. Sigils are incredible; they can turn a young baby fox into a well-trained yet powerful guard dog.

"Makes sense. Who are we meeting? Where do you know him from?"

Johnny laughs as he leads me through the not-so-quiet night of Rustbank. People drunkenly move here or there, singing folk songs to raise their spirits before the upcoming battle. More and more people have been trickling into the town since we arrived. I guess the word of the Gunfighter's rebellion has spread far and wide. While the two of us walk, we converse back and forth.

"A lot of questions. I like it. We are meeting Sacate, a friend I made long ago in the depths of the Wilds."

'Sacate? That's an odd name."

"No, not Saw-kat, it's Saw-ka-tea. Don't address him incorrectly; it's disrespectful to get a name wrong in his culture."

"His culture? Where is he from? The Wilds?"

"Yes, actually. He is from one of the native tribes that live amongst the horrors within the depths. He is from the Ijiraq tribe, known for their way of grafting weapons onto themselves."

"That's incredible! I didn't know people lived in the Wilds! I thought the only humans were those under the Hunters. Where are the rest of his tribe?"

"Not too many live in the Wilds. The tribes come and go all the time there. Only a few ever last longer than a hundred years. Only one beyond a thousand. Sadly the Ijiraq is not one of those tribes. He lives in the Territories because his tribe was wiped out. Many winters ago, I saved him when he was running through the Inalation Mountains deep in the Wilds during a hunt of mine."

"Does he speak our language? I feel like someone from the Wilds wouldn't speak or language or be able to write."

"He's not a savage, Elizabeth. He can read and write, mostly in his own language, though. There was an initial language barrier as he couldn't speak Chero, but over time he learned, and I learned some of his language, which led to our friendship. A friendship that would last a lifetime or more."

"Why is he here now, then? Why only after you were attacked?"

"I do not know the answer to that, Elizabeth. It does not matter, though. All that does is that he's here now."

Once the conversation reaches this point, we come across a vacant lot in the town with a medium size tent in the middle of a space that could fit a building. I guess the Ijiraq man prefers tents over houses. Johnny motions toward the tent for me to follow him.

"Come, meet the last of the Ijiraq."

I follow behind Johnny as he motions toward the tent before opening the flap and walking in.

I find a dark-skinned man covered in dark blue paint all over his body sitting at a small table. His appearance isn't too shocking and is roughly what I imagined, to be honest, but something does throw me off. His left arm.

Instead of a standard arm of flesh, what sits upon Sacate's left arm is a thing made of steel, rock, and bone. A bonesaw-like blade comes from his left arm as I take a few moments to process what I see. The edge appears incredibly sharp and spotless; not a single speck of rust, blood, or dust is on his weapon for an arm. I guess Johnny did say that his people were known for grafting weapons to themselves. Makes sense that they take care of them meticulously.

When I come out of my shock, I notice Johnny introducing me.

"...This is Elizabeth, Sacate. Someone that I'd like if you could take care of while you're here. Teach her how to fight, how to survive, and how to gain a Sigil."

I wave at the man while I'm introduced, and when Johnny finishes, I try to speak up for myself. However, Sacate interrupts me with a deep, grumbling voice that scratches at my ears.

"Hi, I'm–"

"Sit. Look at me."

His rudeness makes me glance at Johnny, but the man only nods for me to continue as he takes Esther from my arms.

Confused, I sit down across from him at the small table. Sacate looks me in the eyes, similar to what Johnny did, as I feel a parallel between the two. The signs of similarity in how the two friends act. Sacate does seem to be a man of very few words, however.

His dark black eyes pierce deeply into mine as I look back at him. And similar to the time with Johnny, despite the fear and worry I feel at merely looking at the man, I do not flinch or retreat. Several tense moments pass before Sacate hands me a small cup filled with a small amount of silver liquid.

"Drink."

Again, I look to Johnny for confirmation that it's okay, and he nods once more affirmatively. Shrugging my shoulders, I pick up the cup and drink. The liquid is bitter and burns its way through my throat as I feel a tingling sensation build from my core. I feel light as I finish the little bit of liquid in the cup. I can feel my face flush as well as I have trouble sitting still. Adrenaline begins to pump from my heart as my whole body buzzes with energy.

Sacate looks at Johnny and nods.

"She is ready. The Mithral approves."

Johnny nods back at the man as he begins to prepare to leave. The whole while, concern burns within me about what is happening to me. What is Mithral???

"Good. Take care of her, don't let her get hurt. I should be back in a few hours. I'm going full speed."

Before Johnny can leave the room and before I can panic, Sacate waves his hand, somehow closing the flap with his subtle movement. I'm sure it's Ether shenanigans.

"Only through pain can she grow. You need to check on your men?"

My eyes flit back and forth as I sit quietly; the feeling these two men give me is too horrifying to speak up for myself at the moment. One I can handle, but the two of them together is too much for me to stand straight. And the feeling only rises as I feel the warmth of the Mithral go through me.

"Yeah, I did say that, but you don't have to do that, old friend. You came here just to reminisce, no?"

"I did. Had I known the danger besieging you long ago, I would have arrived. It is only right I repay you. I will take her and check it out. You can spend time preparing for the storm to come."

"That… that sounds ideal, actually. Just be careful. Keep her safe, okay?"

"I see, friend. You see the little one in her, do you?"

Johnny only nods at the last question as he starts to walk out, leaving Esther in the tent. Sacate's words create a burning curiosity as he goes. Before he fully exits, though, a query comes from my mouth, my curiosity gaining form before I can even control it.

"Hey, Johnny, sir. Was that girl you talked about your daughter?"

Johnny merely turns enough for a single eye to reach mine, a flicker of gold on the brink of it. The man answers solemnly, with his head turning back only halfway to me before exiting into the risen moon's light.

"Yes."