White Thorn | On Hold

Flight or Fight

Her feet skidded to a halt, her eyes narrowing as she tugged on Lydia's sleeve. "Lydia..." Her voice was thick and it quivered ever so slightly. "The Courtyard..." she whispered, pulling the older girl's attention to the other First Year and the inky pool of blood spreading beneath her. The ground beneath her looked charred, the strange circle filled with aged runic symbols looking singed and ruined. The edges of the engravings were lined with red and they looked completely lifeless, just like the girl who lay atop of them.

Something told Arya that wasn't a good thing.

Still, all she could do was watch as Lydia sprinted over to the girl, jumping off the rooftop and onto the ground without a sound.

"Arya... Don't look," Jake muttered, turning her to face the other side of the roof as his big brotherly tendencies seemingly overtook him.

"I've seen it before," she said, wincing at the sheer volume of Lydia's shout.

"She's alive!" Lydia was panicked. "But we need to get her to the hospit—ow!"

"LYD!"

Arya spun, her eyes wide, and immediately wished she hadn't.

Her heart thudded in her chest, her breathing quickening as she spotted the green thorns attacking the pair down below.

Blood trickled down from Lydia's cheek, crimson vines bursting from her back as she stood in the middle of the thorny chaos. Green thorns circled around her, occasionally lancing towards her and Lexie, her crimson thorns the only protection the pair had against the assault.

Arya blinked, tracing the thorns back to their source, eyeing the shadows from which they'd emerged.

Jake evidently had the same idea as her, his eyes burning with rage as he sprinted towards the shadows of the buildings—the source of all the chaos.

Why were they there?

Were they hers?

Her feet were glued to the ground, her mind racing to find an answer as she stood there, frozen in fear. Her vision darkened, blackness creeping into the corners of her sight. She sunk to her knees, curling into a ball, praying those green thorns wouldn't find her again... until a light flickered into life. It's flame yellow, it's warmth comforting as she crouched on the edge of the roof, and all of a sudden she remembered.

She remembered his face, his sandy blonde hair that liked to fly on the breeze, and the grin on his face as he crouched in front of her and told her what it meant to be brave.

"Courage doesn't always have to be about big things... you don't have to prove it by running through a burning building." His grin was wide, his teeth almost sparkling in the sunlight. "Sometimes it's just small things, like protecting the ones you care about... or maybe facing up to one of those nightmares you always have."

Tears leaked down her face, her legs shaking as thorns cut through the air and blood rolled down Jake's arms.

Yellow fire crackled around his hands, desperately trying to burn through the green thorns swarming around him... but there were too many. They wove around him, despite his attempts to stop them, arcing over towards Lydia and the girl she carried, wrapped in her white thorns.

What the difference between them and her crimson thorns were, Arya didn't know. All she knew was that they were losing the battle—if it could even be called that... and she knew what she needed to do.

It didn't matter when she did it, but sooner or later she'd have to face it.

Her fear of thorns.