Tales of the Five Nations 1-Scarblade

Chapter 7-May the Truth Be Told

Alban ran through the trees on the side of her old house, not knowing where she was going or why. She just wanted to run. Anywhere but where everyone else was would be acceptable.

The ground holding all the rows of trees turned into a hill, and Alban was able to run faster and faster, right until she ran into a branch and fell with her back on the ground as her feet flew into the air. She stood up and felt something dripping from her forehead and brought her hand up to see what it was and discovered what it was when she saw that her hand was covered in...blood. Great. Now she had to go back to whichever house she could to at least rinse off the wound. So she headed back up the steep hill with a bunch of trees, and after slipping back down a few times, she finally made it back to the side door of her old home.

She opened it just a crack to make sure that everyone was gone, and when she saw that no one was there, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her. Alban walked up the stairs and turned towards the upstairs bathroom halfway across the hall from the beginning, where the stairs were.

Alban opened the bottom right drawer of the bottom of the sink and unearthed a bunch of bandages. I'll just wash it off, it's not that bad, she thought. So she closed the drawer and stood up to turn on the sink. The cut was reaching from eyebrow to hairline and sent blood dripping down her nose and over her lips and down her chin, making itself look like it was separating her face into halves.

The cold water felt nice on the cut, but it also stung. Alban looked into the huge mirror and found bright emerald eyes staring back at her through the glass. She turned around and took in a startled breath when she realized that it was Teagan's tall figure leaning against the door frame behind her.

"Teagan, look, I'm sorry—I—"

"We all know that you're sorry. And we're sorry, too. You don't deserve to have this amount of pressure hanging over your shoulders."

"But—I hurt Sasithorn, and Feris. Why shouldn't I be punished for that?"

"Well, you didn't mean to hurt Feris. You grabbed his wrist, which was covered in cloth, and is probably a lot better than his hand touching yours, considering how hot your hands were at the time. You were brave. You could've let him touch your hand and hurt himself more. But you didn't let him do that."

"But what about Sasithorn?"

"Well, that one has a simple answer: you were scared."

"That's true, but...how did you know that I was scared?"

"Elf magic. I could see it in your eyes."

"Oh, right—you are an elf," Alban said, looking at his long pointy ears.

"Yeah, sometimes even I forget. But I'm rarely around other elves—and I'm happy about that. Other elves are really just stuck-up brats."

"But you're not...mean."

"That's because what we are and what we choose to be are very different things."

"How do you know all of these awesome things that I never think about?"

"Uh, because I'm awesome."

"I don't know. I think you could work on it a bit more."

"Hey!" Teagan laughed. Alban couldn't hold back a small giggle. "Look, you're laughing again already."

They stood there and talked for a while, until they got hungry. It was sometime around twelve o'clock by now, so they discussed a plan. "You should go get some food for yourself, you haven't eaten at all today," she advised.