The night is dark, the clouds obscuring the moon. Forte considers it both a blessing and a curse because no one can see her, but taking away such a vital sense is frightening. She feels like a blinded mouse trying to outwit a large cat, but she can't let that get in her way.
She moves past the snoozing night guard at the front, quickly and easily sneaking past him and over the bridge. At the sight of the familiar three paths in front of her, she takes the middle, rushing forward with quick feet on the worn dirt path, leaving the reassuring sound of the river flowing softly behind her.
The leather armor top she has on is much too big for her. Forte's cursedly skinny arms sit on top of the hard bottom of the sleeve, making her arms jut out. She decides to shuck it, rushing to a bush and hiding it there: she'll fetch it later.
She turns around and observes the vague shapes of the trees around her. Dad would be furious if he found out she's here, but she has to train. She's sweating and she feels shaky, but she picks up the sword she snuck from Bado's shop and moves onward, stepping back onto the path.
The Selphia Plains are lively at night, and the cicadas are screeching out their songs. Forte is alert to all of them and the rustling of the leaves, trying to use all her senses. It's a much different place, and she begins to slow down her pace to properly take it all in. The cooling air that comes with autumn is harsh against her throat as her breath quickens. She looks up, and the spidery branches against the faint light are eerie. She shakes her head, and forces herself to keep going.
A rotten, mildewy stench begins to rapidly fill the air, and Forte's eyes widen. Her two-handed grip on the sword tightens as she quickly surveys the open plain beyond the skinny path she's taken. The Orc, she knows from her father complaining about their smell, is standing with its back to her. She squints and realizes it's not alone: there are two more with it.
Forte widens her stance for balance as she holds the weapon out in front of her. There is sweat beading at her brow, and she can feel her heart beating in her throat. They haven't noticed her yet, but she is grounded to the spot. It's her chance, but she can't move.
As if sensing her fear, they all turn to her at once. She doesn't realize it's not because of her, and she finally rushes forward, only to be sharply shoved back by a large hand on her shoulder to hit the compacted dirt path hard.
The large shadow of a grown man uses his sword and returns them to the Forest of Beginnings in one swipe.
She watches in awe as the light from their defeat illuminates the area, only to realize it's her father standing in front of her. She gulps as she watches him turn around. She can already imagine the anger; she's already feeling the shame bubble up in the form of tears, but he sheaths his sword and kneels down.
He gently gathers her up in his arms and stands, beginning to walk away from the scene. She can't help but begin to cry, clutching at the fabric of her father's night shirt. Forte watches the sword she stole get smaller and smaller over her father's shoulder and feels her eyes droop with exhaustion. Overwhelmed and tired, she drifts off to sleep.