Born of starlight and shadows

~Part four: Hannah~

"You're kidding, right?" I hear myself ask.

It's foolish, it's silly, but it's the first thing that comes to mind.

The first emotion I feel: denial.

This isn't right. It can't be.

He sighs. "Hannah. When have you heard me kid about anything, ever?"

True. True true true.

"But-but-you said-" I can hear my voice rising in volume like a little kid who was promised a treat at the store and went out empty-handed.

"I was wrong," he says simply.

I shake my head. Even when it's staring me straight in the face, I'm refusing to accept this as my reality.

"Hannah..." he says. "We need to move. Staying here for too long is dangerous."

"So it is now, but when it comes time for school itself-" I find myself complaining.

He sighs. "That's different. Then you're surrounded by-"

"Normal people," I suggest.

"Well, yes," he says. "Now that I'm the only person you're around, to anyone who might be looking, your power will be-"

"You aren't about to say 'obvious,' were you? Because I thought it kind of already was, Dad," I say.

"More obvious than it already is, then," Dad says. "You can never be too careful, especially now. So let's get out of here and weigh our options, shall we?"

"Hang on," I say. "That's...oh-"

It's in that moment that I notice a car drive past and catch a glimpse of the girl in the passenger seat. She looks an awful lot like Stella-oh. That's because she is Stella.

I then say something that doesn't need to be repeated, needless to say, it causes Dad to say, "Hannah!"

I point to the car by way of explanation. "That's her, Dad. Stella."

He pushes his glasses up his face and squints.

"Those aren't the right prescription anymore, are they?" I ask.

"I-well, no, probably not," he admits. "But I think, yes, there are some similarities between her and the-"

"There are more than just similarities!" I can hear myself practically yelling.

I want to think so, too, but any trace of doubt I have disappears as soon as I feel a wave of energy wash over me.

Not just any energy, either.

You see, friend, every Star Child's energy has its own 'feel.' There's always something distinct that sets it apart from others. Sometimes its small, sometimes its big, but its there. Just trust me on this.

Something I noticed about Stella's energy: it 'feels' very different than the energy of any other Star Child I've encountered.

How so? You may be wondering.

It's-actually, it's more than a little hard to describe.

Basically it seems to have a harder, sharper edge to it, if that makes any sense at all.

In any case, it was easily recognizable. There was no one else it could be except Stella. I decide to say so.

"Dad," I say impatiently, "I could feel her power! Quite strongly, in fact! It's her!"

He then says the very same thing he told me not to say.

"Dad!" I exclaim. "What sort of example are you setting for your daughter right now?"

"As much as I appreciate your attempt to lighten the mood, this is serious," he says.

"Yeah," I rub my bracelet. "I know."

I know his vision isn't as good as it used to be, probably due to all of that eyestrain-inducing time in front of a computer, but he still notices the small gesture. To my relief, he says nothing about it. For that I'm grateful.

"Dad?" I ask. "Exactly how are we going to do this?"

He sighs. "I'm afraid I don't have any more idea than I did before. Perhaps it would simply best for us to-"

"Do nothing?" I ask. "No. That's not an option anymore."

He nods. "It may not be the easiest thing-for any of us, but it must be done."

"Then..." I take a deep breath. "We don't have a moment to lose."

He pulls his car keys out of his pocket and unlocks the doors.

I take my bag off and practically throw it in the backseat.

"You added more keychains, didn't you?" Dad asks.

I nod. "I forgot to put on some for the last three moves."

Each time we go somewhere new, I make a keychain and stick it on my bag. By now there are probably at least twenty. And this way there's some sort of physical record that, yes, I have been to all of those places, and no, it wasn't all some sort of drawn-out dream.

Believe me, sometimes it feels like it is.

"Hannah," Dad says a moment later, "I don't know if I'll get another chance to tell you this, but-"

"Don't talk like that," I interrupt. "Please."

"I'm sorry, but it's true, and you know it," he says. "We have been lucky, very lucky, to have made it this long."

"I don't feel very lucky," I mumble, but I know he's right.

"I know," he says. "But...ten years. Ten years we've managed to evade them, Hannah. Most have a fraction of that, once found. A tiny, tiny portion."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. I rub my bracelet, though I'm immediately annoyed at myself for letting it become a habit so quickly.

"Yet, still, this is far from an ideal way to live," he continues. "You've put up with it remarkably well, you know."

I shrug. "I always thought if you could deal with everything you could, I could deal with everything that was pushed on me because of my life circumstances."

For a moment he's quiet.

"You've grown up quite a bit, haven't you?" he asks.

And then, "I'm proud of you."

"Thanks," I whisper.

I try not to think about the future, try to pretend that this moment, where both of us are still safe, will last. But of course it won't. Trying to stop manipulate time is futile. Even for me.