9:23 Dragon

The blacksmith's shop was hot and stuffy, which would have been unbearable if it had not been freezing out in the winter mountains. I kept pacing back and forth while the apprentice, Soren, dug through a pile of firewood. The smith was out to return a repaired tool to one of the farmers, and we didn't have much time before he came back.

"Is this one long enough?" Soren asked, holding up a long branch. His black hair glistened with sweat from the heat of the forge, and waited expectantly for me to judge the branch.

"It looks long enough..." I mused as I inspected it. "But how heavy is it?"

"Here, you feel out the weight." He handed me the branch, which I tested by swinging it a few times. I nodded, indicating it was heavy enough. "Good, I was starting to think we'd have to check the pile out back." He hurriedly grabed some of his tools as I looked over the branch more closely. "If I may ask... why do you need that wood? Why couldn't you just take one from your pile?"

"I couldn't find one like this in my pile." Soren tilted his head at me, expecting a more specific answer, no doubt. "I need it to practice something."

"Practice what?" Soren chuckled as he checked to make sure a water barrel was cool enough. "Are you..." He shook his head. "I can't think of anything that might need a tree branch."

I sighed, looking out the window to make sure the smith wasn't back yet. "You won't tell anyone?"

Soren mock saluted me with a hammer. "May the Maker smite me and feed me to the dogs before that."

I moved close to Soren and whispered into his ear. "I've been practicing my sword fighting."

Soren nodded his head. "Oh, I get it now. You needed a practice staff." He left his hammer on a table and rummaged through a pile of tools and brought out a staff that was far superior to my branch. "You may want this instead."

I hesitantly gave back the branch in exchange for the staff. "Won't the staff be missed?"

Soren snorted. "Are you kidding? Henrik gave it to me when I considered joining the army last year. It's mine to lose, as far as he cares now."

"Well, thanks." I nodded at Soren and smiled slightly. I turned to leave, but Soren called out to me before I reached the door.

"Are you thinking of joining the army, Sophia?" He asked quietly.

I clutched the staff in both hands and considered how to tell the truth without giving my secret away. "No, not the army."

"The templars, then?"

I shuddered at the thought. "Definately not."

"Good. I'd miss you if you left."

I felt my face turn red, and was glad that I had my back to Soren. I nearly stumbled on my words as I said "I should go before Henrik gets back."

The infamous frozen winter air of West Hill greeted me harshly as I left the blacksmith's shop and made my way back home. I wrapped my cloak around me as best I could while carrying the staff, trying to keep the cold at bay. Once I had reached the farm, I left the staff in the shed that held most of our tools during the winter, expecting no one would question its presence for a long time, if ever.

The warmth of the fire inside our little home was a pleasant change from the winter chill outside. Bethany and Carver had been reading by the fire, and my little sister ran over to welcome me home with a hug. I just smiled and hugged her back until she let go, all the while enduring a glare from Carver for stealing his reading partner. It wasn't long before my mother got the news that I had returned from the village and came to greet me.

"Did Soren have a replacement for that shovel of yours, dear?" Mother asked, reminding me that I actually had a legitimate reason for going to the blacksmith.

"No, but he said I could just bring my old one to Henrik and see if he can fix it." I lied. I really hoped that Henrik could fix the mangled mess of metal my shovel had become when a cart rolled over it. I still couldn't help but wonder how the cart made it out unscathed, but my metal shovel was destroyed.

Carver rocked himself back and forth on the floor, watching me. "She just wants to spend more time with Soren."

"There's nothing wrong with that, is there?" My mother chided playfully. "She's seventeen, is it wrong that she likes a boy her age?"

"Mother!" I protested, surprised that she would just assume that I liked a boy just because we were friends.

"Sophie and Soren sittin' in a barn..." Carver began mischiviously.

"Carver!" My mother cried. "Who taught you that?"

"Bethany did!" He shouted, pointing at her accusingly.

"No I didn't!" Bethany gasped, hugging me close. "Daddy taught you that song!"

I shook my head, embarrassed and appalled. "You've got to be kidding me."

My mother pulled Carver up from his spot and almost dragged him into the next room. Bethany and I followed to watch my father look up from his book. My mother pointed at Carver with her free hand and made a face at father.

"What have you been teaching this boy?" She demanded.

Father shook his head. "What do you mean? I've mostly been reading him some of my old books-"

"Those aren't appropriate for a boy of eleven!" She cried. Carver looked back and smirked at me.

"Well, I read them to Bethany too..."

"Maker's breath, Malcolm! That's even worse! What kind of thoughts do you want your children to have?"

My father frowned, looking around the room as if to find an excuse on the walls. He saw Bethany and I standing at the door and faked a smile. "You're back from your trip, Sophia! How was it?"

"Don't change the subject!" My mother cried. My father closed his book and stood up, bowing his head.

"I'm sorry, Leandra. I promise not to let Carver or Bethany read the books again until they're at least fourteen."

"Aw, come on!" Carver sighed. "I liked the senseless violence."

"See what you've done?" My mother admonished. "You've scarred the boy." She let go of Carver and gave him a little push back to the fireplace. "Go ahead and sit by the fireplace, you three. I need to talk about something with your father."

Bethany and Carver both ran back to the book they were reading, sitting down and acting as if nothing had happened since I came home. I considered warming myself by the fireplace, but instead decided to hang my cloak on its peg and go up to my room, where I could listen in on my parents' consversation.

My room was as bare as any other home I lived in, the only difference from the last being that I didn't get to keep a chair for myself. Instead, I sat on the floor near a crack that let me hear into the room below. I made sure I didn't make a sound as I put my ear against the hole, wondering what sort of trouble my father had gotten himself into. I listened until I finally caught my mother's voice:

"-can't just go. They have friends here."

"I'm sorry, Leandra. But we can't stay after what she did."

"It's not her fault! She didn't know!"

"They'll come for her all the same."

"Malcolm... we can't leave. They can't keep running."

"If we don't run, we'll lose her."

"But... she never asked for this!"

"No one does, Leandra."

"Why her? Why Bethany?"

"Magic runs in our families, it was inevitable we would have at least one mage-"

I slammed my fist into the floor, unable to hold in the anger and frustration that built up in me when I began to understand what my parents meant. I wasn't going to leave another home behind.

I got up and ran down the stairs to the front door, grabbing my cloak and flinging the door open. I stormed outside, to the bewilderment of Carver and Bethany, and slammed the door shut. I marched straight to the shed and grabbed my staff, leaving the shed open and walking through the empty fields to the forest at the base of the mountains.

Once I was out of hearing from the house, I cursed at the top of my lungs, challenging the night to make my life more miserable than it already was. I kicked stones and fallen branches, not feeling the pain of hitting the ones that refused to move. I began striking at the wind with my staff, swinging it in wide arcs until I hit a tree. Enraged, I continued to attack the tree until my staff suddenly split at the end. Tossing the remaining wood aside, I tore at my hair and fell to my knees, tears beginning to stream down my eyes.

I don't know how long I sat there, shivering in the cold and watching my tears freeze at they hit the ground. I thought I was just going to freeze there until a snapped twig gave me a start. I sprang up and spun around, baring my teeth at the form moving towards me. I realized it was my father after he took a few steps closer, and I shook my head. I half-heartedly kicked a tree, no longer able to express my rage.

"What's happened, Sophia?" My father ventured, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"We have to leave again, don't we?" I sighed despairingly. I already knew the answer. It was always the same.

My father moved so that he could look at my face, gently raising my gaze to meet his. I barely held back my tears when I saw the sad look in his eyes. "Yes."

I threw my arms around him, burying my face in his cloak and trying not to cry. "I... heard that Bethany is a mage. Is that true?"

My father patted me on the back a few times before answering. "It is true."

"How did you find out?" I asked.

My father sighed. "She set fire to Agatha's barn. Agatha saw for herself that it wasn't a dropped candle or such."

"Does Bethany know?"

"I have talked to her about it." My father paused. "I asked her what she had done that sparked the fire, and she was able to create the flame for me. I kept our house from burning down, of course, but Agatha isn't going to let this go without alerting the templars."

I gritted my teeth. "So we're leaving. Again."

"We are." My father wrapped his cloak around me. "But first we need to get you home before you catch a cold." He ended our embrace and took my hand, leading me out of the dark forest back to our home. Our temporary, fleeting home.

I stared into the fire as I waited for everyone else to finish packing their things. Carver came over to poke my side when he was ready, but after flinching I returned to staring. Dissatisfied, he poked me again. I sighed and moved over, continuing to stare at the flickering light from the fire.

My mother walked in with her pack just as Carver was about to poke me again, and she shook her head at Carver. "Leave Sophia alone, Carver."

He sighed and sat down with his pack, frowning. "Oswin still owes me an apple."

"We can get you a new apple in our next home." Mother promised.

My father and Bethany both came in at the same time. Bethany looked afraid, as if she had learned some horrible secret. My father looked grim as he hefted his pack. "We should go."

My mother touched my arm. "It's time to go, dear."

I nodded, scowling as I looked away from the fire to stand up and lift my pack. "Fine. I'm ready to leave this place."

My parents both frowned, giving each other a glance before making one last check to make sure we had everything. Afterward, my father led us out and through the fields into the forest.

The pre-dawn forest seemed to echo my gloomy mood; each stone brooding in silence and each tree scowling at us. I scowled back, telling myself to hate this place for what it did to our family. It was hard enough when my father, a trained mage, was all the templars were hunting. Now that Bethany had the same curse, our precarious life became even more uncertain.

We walked for hours, but the sun barely reached us through the treetops. The trunks began to come closer together as we went deeper in, and I hoped my father knew where he was going. Bethany walked with him, holding his hand tight and trying her best to hold back her tears as she always had.

Carver seemed less upset than the rest of us for the moment, managing to keep up with father even as he occasionally stomped his foot on the ground. My mother watched him anxiously, giving me a quick glance over the shoulder. After a few more minutes, she inched closer and whispered to me.

"I'm sorry, darling." She put an arm around me in an attempt to comfort me, but I avoided looking her in the eye. "If there had been time, I would have let you say goodbye..."

She trailed off, not certain if I was even listening. I narrowed my eyes and clenched my fist as I considered what to say. "It was nothing, mother." I scowled more intensely, if that was even possible. "I know better than to get attached to anyone I meet..." I hesitated, decided it was worth adding "...especially a boy."

My mother shook her head. "That's what worries me most, Sophia." She sighed. "You've become..." She searched for the right word. "...distant. Detached. You just don't make friends like you used to. Even with Soren, you don't really let anyone get to know you. To get close to you."

"Why should I?" I snapped back. "I'm never going to see any of them again."

"But you can enjoy the time you do have with them." My mother pleaded. "It's like you built a wall around your heart, darling. You're only going to strangle yourself if you don't let yourself love anything."

"Why do I need to love anything, or anyone outside of my family?" I shook my head. "The only thing 'love' has ever given me is pain."

My mother sniffled, and I glanced to see that she was holding back a tear. "One day, we'll find a place where we can stay, darling." She pulled back her arm and wiped her eye with the back of her hand. "Maybe then you can find happiness in loving again."

I lowered my head, trying to ignore my mother's silent tears. It wasn't enough that I had to suffer, now I was hurting her too.

We continued through the forest for most of the day, stopping to make camp in a small cave for the night. My father taught Bethany how to light the fire, making sure she didn't hurt anyone. My mother ruffled Carver's hair and took out a book to read to him to keep him from trouble. I sat at the edge of the camp, looking out the mouth of the cave.

I sat there for a long time, watching the light coming through the treetops fading. I curled up, staring at my feet for a few minutes before I heard someone approaching. I looked up to see my father walking towards me carrying a simple staff.

"I had always thought it would be you to be gifted with magic." He mused, tapping the staff on the stone cave floor. "Your mother used to go on about our hair and eyes matching, and that you'd be the one to have our family talent."

"I don't want magic." I muttered. "I'm fine being normal."

"I know." He took a deep breath. "And I think it's for the best." He paused. He looked over the staff in his hands before offering it to me. "This staff isn't magical, just a piece of wood. It's normal, like you."

I glared suspiciously at the staff. "Why don't you make it magical so Bethany can have one like yours?"

My father knelt down next to me, looking into my eyes. "You wanted a training staff to practice sword fighting. I think you should have this staff to replace the one that broke."

I looked at my father in disbelief. I suddenly jumped up and hugged him, mumbling "thank you" into his cloak. He chuckled and pulled me off of him, offering the staff again. I took it in my hands and smiled at him.

"We should go back to the fire." He suggested. "Supper's waiting."

I nodded and rushed back to my pack to secure my treasure before joining my family as they finished cooking supper. I don't remember a happier moment of my life than when I went to sleep with a training staff at my side and my father's approval in my heart.