The Futures Ashes

Chapter 1

 Just to let you know, I love any kind of comments rude or kind, just feedback! You can call me whatever you want, Ava's my name so that too! I hope you like the story my lovelies!

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I blew a piece of hair out of my face, looking at my opponent while holding my two swords in a defensive posture. My heart raced and I breathed deeply, my face was flushed. The man was at least a foot and a half taller and much more muscular than me, but I was quick and knew many different strategies, planning my movements long before I made them. The issue is, that the man's Elijah. He knows my favorite strategies because we have trained in this rink a lot. I dash in, slicing the higher part of his palm on his sword hand. He swings too late. I run back in and cut up his sword arm three times. Elijah drops his sword, cursing.

"Shit. Thanks Kris, now I need bandaging." He was ragged looking, as I am.

I smile sourly; I hope. Gesturing to the very deep cut on my leg, blood already soaking through my clothing, it stung. "I need stiches Elijah, so shut up." Using that sentence feels good, especially because he's supposed to be better than me.

He looked at me with respect, though he still looked pretty pissed that he had lost to a thirteen-year-old girl, as well he should be. "I was going easy on you."

I smiled and put my arms out, still holding the swords, bowing. "Sure Eli, whatever you say, but I think we both know you weren't."

He looked at me in amusement, making me scowl, but in a way that I knew suggested joking, he looks like he thinks I'm an amusing puppy. He leaned his head both ways before responding. "Fair enough. Get out of here, you have other life then training."

I look at him, scowling still, comprehension slowly dawning and my expression fading with it. "Huh... Wait. As in-" I gasp sarcastically. "You think I have a life?!"

He sighed and laughed a little. "Yeah, I do."

"Your wrong but see you two days from now." I turned, like an idiot, and walked out of the outdoor rink, waving away some other Skryt and pushing through them, I whistled for Nick's dog, a Pitbull, rottweiler mix. I sniff the air, unintentionally I might add, and scrunched up my nose in disgust, it smelled like smoke, alcohol, blood, and sweat. Nasty, just plain nasty. May as well just dump a load of shit on the city.

"Zara!" I stopped for a minute holding my hand out to the side, I felt Zara's snout against my hand. I smiled and looked at Nick's faithful dog, Zara was taller than my waist. I pet the adorable dog for a few moments before walking behind a building across the street from the building standing there and breathing in and out deeply, I dropped the fake smile that I had been told looked so real it was scary.

Zara lay down next to me, whimpering when she saw my expression. Thirteen and a street rat, a miserable murderer. I looked at the deep cut above my right knee, blood was soaking my pants. It didn't hurt, well, too much. It looks... Bad. I need help. "Son of a..." I'm breathing shallowly, as if I can't get air. I close my eyes tight, breathing deep, it didn't help. I held my head, shaking, still breathing shallowly. Then opened them again, I contemplated the options. Nicks house, or... Nothing really.

"Fine." I'm fine. I'm fine, I need to get over it. I. Am. Fine. Fine, what an interesting word. It is meant to say you are doing good, but doesn't show that. It means that you are doing okay, and that you're not okay simultaneously. Making my mind blank, I grabbed her Queb-line (holograph screen, like in avengers) and clicked the button drawing up the holograph. I called for a Queb-tram and typed in the address, 5 minutes. I walked to the main tracks to wait for the tram, Zara was beside her, panting as she jogged back and forth. Soon I saw the tram coming down the tracks and spoke to my best friend, which was Zara.

"Are you ready to go back to your house?" My voice shook and I cursed it. I walked forward, getting on the tram, suddenly, feeling the pain in my leg. "In, Zara!" The dog jumped into the tram, lying on the seat beside her, she rested her head on my uninjured leg. I pet her until they got there, and I waited for the door to open, contemplating my choice to go to Nick's home. He would be pissed if he found out I needed stitches because of my own decisions. I limped to the door, clinging to Zara, and rang the bell. Maggie, Nick's, my 22-year-old foster brother's girlfriend, answered.

"Bloody hell, Krislee! What did you get yourself into?" She looked down at the dog, "Welcome back Zara." Then Maggie narrowed her eyes, and her lips formed a straight line. "The rink."