Wet Fire

At the Edge of the World (E10)

Petronel

Before her was a wall of dark, billowing dust, which looked thicker than the usual air of the Southern Volcanic Flats. It rose high into the sky beyond sight. Tiny smoky fingers spiraled out of the wall and then dissipated as they snaked into the wind. It looks like a wall holding back tortured souls. She thought.

Petra adjusted the sack on her shoulder and let out a deep breath of dense air. She set out down the rocky slope of a hill and came to a stop at the base of the wall. She tilted her head and stared up at the shifting grey smoke. The size of this cloud frightened her--it loomed above like a giant that could squash her at any moment.

Whatever lies beyond this place, I cannot turn back. I will not back down now, and someday when I return to my home, I will  tell a story of my adventures. I might even tell them about how I killed the arsi. Petra held out a shaking hand, and touched the wall, trying to feel if it was solid. As she thought, her hand passed through the smoke. I can walk through now. And she did, feeling the pain of fear and energy of anticipation.

. . .

Carefully, Petra drew back her father's drywood bow, squinting her eyes at the target.

"Keep your arm steady, Petra. Don't fidget. That's it." Vynce stood next to her, watching with crossed arms.

As she concentrated on her arrow, she became one with the bow. Everything seemed blended together--her breathing, the tension on the bowstring, the tickle of the feather on her cheek. At the end of a breath, Petra blinked slowly and loosened the arrow. It flew straight speedily forward, straight to the target, and passed just above it, vanishing into the smoky air.

Petra frowned, her insides boiling with frustration. Immediately after she said it, she wished she hadn't. Usually it was the boys who cursed.

"What did you say?" Vynce glared at her with wide eyes. "Watch your mouth, Petra,--you are lucky I am too busy night now to go and tell your father."

On the other side of their makeshift training yard, three other young scalers stood. Two of them, Jelen and Keiko, were laughing outright, apparently amused by Petra's slip-of-the-tongue. The other one, Hayd, just grinned and itched his nose, trying to be more mature.

Petra's face turned a cherry-red. She set the bow down on the ground and brushed the settled ash off of her fur shawl, trying to ignore her audience. But the more she thought about that word, the more she wanted to burst out laughing as well. Soon four scalers were doubled over, trying to contain themselves. Vynce was the only one not shedding a tear. All he did was frown and stand with arms still crossed.

"Are you all done yet?" the Leader said sarcastically, keeping his cold stare on them. .

Keiko sniffed and sighed, wiping a tear from her cheek. "Done. I'm done." She looked at him. "Don't be so hard, Vynce, lighten up!"

Vynce only frowned, his almond eyes squinting so tightly they seemed closed. "Respectability. That is all I wanted to teach her. If you lack respect, you lack trust." He leaned over and grabbed Petra's bow, and took an arrow from the quiver at her feet. In one fluid motion, Vynce nocked the arrow, and loosed it, its point soon firmly driven into the only inches from the center of the wooden target. "Your grip faltered as you let go of the string, Petra. Be more careful next time."

After he gave Petra back her father's bow, Vynce stomped off into the tent nearby that housed all the training weapons. Just five years ago, he had been and entirely different person.