A mysterious past, an unrequited love, and a desperate need to find himself, fifteen-year-old Kalyn has enough to occupy him without being on the verge of a massive societal upheaval. Join Kalyn and his friends as they explore what it means to come...
I feel that I am a coward of the highest caliber as I watch them go. Teak tries to be understanding, but I cannot hope the same for the rest. I ask Mab to ensure that Tabby reaches her rightful home with Corsa, and she agrees with a frown. To their credit, the Inteans ensure that my friends are well prepared for their journey.
Sacks full of food and water are loaded onto Gia's sturdy frame. Each traveler is granted a new pack and a fresh set of clothes. I think this final hurrah of hospitality speaks mostly of the Inteans' relief to be rid of them, but that does not make the help go any less appreciated.
At least I can rest assured that they have left with the best possible chance. I could not have given them any more. And isn't this how things should be? I belong here, and they belong there. You need only look at us to see that.
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After the Balaiins leave, I can feel a collective tension leave the air. The chief lets me into my parents' house, and I spend the hours reminiscing about a family I have never known. I try my best not to pry but quickly drop all pretenses.
There are no pictures, no personal effects. I worry that they are unsentimental, but the chief assures me that this is just a place for them to rest. My parents are wanderers. They have learned to travel light. To let their memories live in their heads instead of their home.
My father is a legend among his people. Stories of him are grandiose but lacking in personal details. My mother, too, is widely respected. I am told that she is beautiful and intelligent and a whiz of an archer. My father's swordsmanship skills precede him, and I throw myself into practicing. If nothing else, it distracts from my loneliness.
A blacksmith is fashioning a sword for me that will bear my family crest. The one I wear around my neck weighs heavier by the day. In order to keep the necklace and bands from fraying, I leave them at home.
Since I am staying, I am encouraged to make myself useful. Wart's fires are a wonder in the forge. We join the hunt.
Without my friends, the hours pass in unbearable slowness. I often wonder where they are, how they are faring. The trip down the mountain will be easier. They should have more than enough to last them through the desert. We are no longer the inexperienced children we were when we started. Köv will protect them, Agan will direct them, Mab will motivate them, and Teak will keep them together.
In the foothills, I can almost pretend that I am back in Balai. The woods are no longer as fearsome. They are almost a comfort. Sometimes I listen to the wind through the trees and imagine they are whispering to me. I tell everyone how much I miss them and hope that breeze will carry my words and well wishes to them.
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Wart, with his hulking frame, is simply not built for stealth. That is why when we hunt, we hunt on our own. I don't have the same taste for it that Köv and Agan had. Sometimes he still succeeds in spite of me. Mostly, though, we just explore.
The incandescent green of the leaves with the sun shining through them reminds me of Sunia. How Ohna and I would stare up at them for hours at a time while the rest of world moved around us. The heat of the day, the sound of her voice, the soft graze of grass all around us. With the benefit of experience, I can now say that Sunia is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. I wonder if I will ever see it again.
I could, of course. The rest of my life yawns before me. Maybe I will even join my parents in their travels. Will they have been to Sunia, or will I be able to grant them the pleasure myself? I could even introduce them to Ohna. Does she still think of me after all this time? Has she found someone else? In view of the months that have separated us, what were those few days to her?
The crash of a tree makes me look for Wart, but he is nowhere in sight. In the wake of that noise, I notice the woods have fallen silent. Gooseflesh creeps up my spine.
"Wart?"
His name goes unanswered. I see no evidence of his tracks. How long have I been walking without him?
"Wart??"
Another crash makes me jump.
I see movement between the trunks. Brown fur. Looming. Towering.
A bear rises to its back feet, and my heart seizes in panic. There is no time to react before it is racing toward me, the ground reverberating with its pounding footfalls. I turn to run, but it is no use. I am knocked to the ground, and the breath leaves me. I try to call out again, but the words are no more than a croak.
I am going to die. No friends, no family. Alone in an unfamiliar world with no one to mourn me.
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