HAVEN ✓

Twenty-Four

I am once again grateful for Sol insisting that I bring a change of clothes. Luke kindly gives me privacy by starting a fire in the fireplace while I strip out of my soggy shirt and shorts and don a warm, dry sweater and pants. Luckily, there was some dry firewood already stocked in the little cabin part. Whoever used this cabin last seemed to have kept it up before they left.

"We should spend the night here. I don't want to chance the slick mountainside until the rain stops," Luke says as he stokes the fire. I crouch next to him to lay my wet clothes out to dry in front of the fireplace.

We stand and I watch as Luke does the same, carefully laying his soaked shirt out beside mine.

Shifting, he looks at me with cautious eyes.

"What? What's wrong?" I ask, stepping toward him.

A shy smile quirks up the side of his lips. "Nothing." He slips his hands into his pockets. "Just... that cavern goes quite far back. Sometimes we find relics of the Old World." The way he shrugs is almost cute. "I was wondering if you wanted to explore it? With me?"

A grin spreads across my face. I honestly would love nothing more than to go spelunking with Luke.

"Absolutely." There's a small nagging worry on the back of my mind, but I trust Luke. Whatever else we could possibly find in there, I know Luke will keep us safe from it.

I marvel at this as we approach the cave entrance, passing through the small doorway. Before I came to the Outlands, my adventurous days were thought to be long gone.

Now, I barely hesitate at the thought of entering unknown territory. I glance up at Luke, whose back is to me, and something in my chest shifts into place.

This, I think. This is what it feels like to really live. To let go of inhibitions and thoughts that hold back experiencing anything, everything.

And I kind of like this new me, this brave me. For once in my life I don't feel shadowed by my friends, my family, nor the world that has confined me.

I feel like I am becoming who I am meant to be. The fear I've lived in—if you could call it living—would still be holding me back had I never come into the Outlands. I glance at Luke and decide that his strong, steady presence is comforting, especially in all of the foreign feelings I've experienced in the past week.

Fear tricks us into living a cautionary life. It tricked me into accepting that there was nothing of value outside Herald's walls. It tricked the people of Natio into a fearful lifestyle, restricted by the threat of the Skinwalkers.

That fear continues to shape the world into a lesser version of what it could be; perhaps, one where Herald coexists with the Outlands.

Luke has taken up a torch with a burning piece of wood from the fireplace to light the way. Shadows dance as we pick our way along the walls.

"I thought I saw something earlier," Luke says, and I jump, instantly plastering myself behind him. He chuckles. "Nothing alive. Just some markings along the walls."

Sure enough, Luke brings the torch toward a streak of what looks like paint splashed across the rock in a picture of some sort. As he pans, the light reveals dozens of streaks in various colors. A mural? I look closely at the misty-looking paint flaking in some places.

Suddenly, I step back, looking at the series of lines crossing and weaving only to realize that the ancient markings do not make a picture.

They are words.

The once-vibrant colored graffiti covers nearly half of the cave wall at eye-level. Some sections are wispy and others blocky, but all of it just blares. It is brassy. Angsty. Insurgent.