Chapter 1: The Awakening
Cold air whipped through my hair and burned my eyes, causing tears to flow freely down my cheeks. I was on a snowy hilltop in what I presumed to be the middle of nowhere. More mountaintops rose up next to mine and circled a brightly lit valley. My clothing wasn't near warm enough for this kind of temperature so I made my way to the valley below with promises of food and shelter. I had never thought running away would be this difficult. I assumed pity would fight for me and people would think I was just an innocent poor girl asking for food. No such luck. Already, in the last town, the cops had been called due to people mistaking me for the esteemed "Hilltop Wrangler" who was vastly known for burglary. Luckily, I had escaped the government and continued on. Now, here I was: a runaway looking for hope with nothing but a little money and the clothes on her back. I slinked up to the first house I came to and peered in through its ornately decorated windows. In a spacious room sat at a large, oak table with a feast on it fit for a king. The sight made my mouth water. Assorted meats decorated with seasonings and gravy lined the border while steaming vegetables consumed the center. I knew this would be the house to obtain food from, willingly or unwillingly. I walked up to the huge wooden doors and rang the doorbell. A bald headed butler with a pushed up nose answered.
At the sight of me in tattered clothing he snarled, "What do you want?"
"Sir," I said, putting on my best innocent look. "Please spare me any food. I haven't eaten in two days, and I just ask for a meal."
"Ugh," he sneered. "Leave, you grimy peasant! I am NOT a charitable man and will not waste my time with the likings of you!"
"What is all this?" A sharply dressed man appeared next to him with an extraordinary white beard. "Who is this?" He gave me a curious, but kind, look.
"A peasant girl, sir. She came up not five minutes ago begging for food," the butler drawled, looking at me as well.
"And you said no? Why?" The bearded man demanded.
"Well, sir, I just thought you wouldn't want to be bothered by such a small trifle as a little girl."
"This is not just some little girl asking for food! This is a poor, innocent young lady trying to find help but gets the door shut on her face every time she tries! Now go clean the guest bedroom and have it ready for her in the next hour!" The butler narrowed his eyes and walked away muttering unpleasant things under his breath.
"Now," the man continued. "Let's get you some clothes and food shall we? I'm sure my daughter's clothes will fit you quite nicely."
He led me to the guest bedroom as the butler tidied up. It had a large, inviting bed with two bedside tables and a television at the base. The bathroom was located on the right side of the room and connected to the closet, which was where the man directed me.
"Ah, well, here we are! Just go ahead and choose whatever outfit you'd like and meet me downstairs in approximately ten minutes for dinner. Alright?"
I nodded and he continued on to say, "By the way, my name is Mr. V," before turning away and leaving me isolated. The closet was filled to the brim with clothes and I had no idea where to start looking. A whole portion of the wall was dedicated to shoes, while another was for jackets. The magnitude of it all was overwhelming. I finally found a simple burnt orange sweater with an elaborate pattern along the V-cut neckline and a pair of dark jeans. With luck still on my side, I tried on some black hiking boots and found that they fit. Then, to conclude my makeover, I washed my face and combed my hair in the bathroom. Now getting a good look at myself, I noticed how tanner my skin looked and how my already golden hair had lightened due to the sun, even the orange streak in my side bang looked almost blonde. More freckles dotted my nose and around my dark brown eyes that had small maroon flecks in them. My lips were chapped as well and I decided that Chap Stick would be a necessity. Upon finishing my clean up, I proceeded to walk downstairs to the man with a million questions.
He was sitting at the dining room table surrounded by four chairs with a plate of his own already prepared in front of him. My plate, located in front of the chair to the right of Mr. V., was full as well and I didn't notice any other plates which led me to believe he lived alone save for the butler and possibly a chef.
"Ah!" He clapped his hands upon seeing me and beckoned me over to join him. "Don't you look different? Wow, I could've sworn you were twelve! How old are you?"
"Sixteen, sir." I said as I sat down.
"Hmm," he cupped his chin with one of his hands. "And why would a sixteen year old want to run away? Forgive me if I am wrong, but you do come across as a delinquent of some sort."
I nodded. "You are correct in guessing that I am a runaway, but I don't think you would believe me if I told you why."
He gave me an interested look, clearly intrigued by the details that I was withholding from him. "This old man has heard a great deal. Trust me when I say I'm ninety percent positive that your story is not the craziest story I've ever heard."
"Ninety percent?"
"Well there is always that one small chance that it might very well just be the craziest story I've ever heard, but I doubt it will be. It's a risk you have to decide to take."
I decided to take it. "My name is Fallon Vidal. I was a happy girl, rich like you are and I had many things. I had a best friend, I had a car, I had a laptop, and I had everything I wanted. Then my father got fired one day, he was a manager at BP, and my mother wanted a divorce. Upon hearing this, my father and I realized she had only been married to him for money all along. She didn't even question about me. When he asked who wanted to take me, she just said, 'She was always yours.' Sh-She," I plowed on. "She left the next day." I took a breath.
"Well that doesn't sound crazy in the slightest!"
"I haven't gotten to the crazy part yet…." I pondered quickly over how I should explain things to him. "Over the past couple of years, I've been having strange outbursts. They especially seem to happen in fits of anger. Whenever I am hurt or upset, well, I-I feel heat rise up within me and then I expel it and a fire or a burn forms."
There was a heavy silence for a few minutes and then Mr. V asked, "Are you saying you believe you can control the element of fire?"
"I'm saying that there's strong evidence that states I might."