A/N: I managed to find time to write! Yippee! The plot begins…next chapter! But, uh, cliffhanger for now. Sorry!

Chapter Seven: More Arguments and…Exploding Carts?

Creeping into her bed that night- er, morning, as it was after three AM- Anna opted to changing the makeshift bandage around her arm to one a little more…sterile. She removed the cloth slowly, tenderly, as not to disturb the gash, but she found that it did not hurt nearly as terribly as it had earlier. In truth, she had forgotten it was there for several hours, for it hadn't troubled her at all. Maybe it wasn't as deep as she first thought?

Indeed it was neither deep nor still bleeding as the last bit of cloth fell away. Jaw hanging open in disbelief, Anna carefully prodded the faint red line that remained on her forearm. The gash had disappeared, leaving only a small, thin scar in its wake.

She'd been healed.

The thought frightened her a little. Luin had only one healer- an old woman who could no longer leave her home due to her age, and her magic had never been particularly strong, just enough for a fever or a scratch. Most of Luin's citizens didn't bother with healing, preferring to wait out the illness rather than pay an outrageous sum of gald for inadequate healing. Yes, healing was expensive no matter what city you lived in, considering how rare healers were and how much energy it took to use such advanced magic.

So, when Anna considered the strength it must have taken to completely heal her arm, she felt the tiniest traces of fear course through her. And only one person had been close enough to heal her without the annoying flashes of colored light normally associated with long distance spells.

She didn't quite understand why it made her angry. Most girls would've been flattered that someone had used such precious magic on them. Why did she feel so…mad?

Her brother probably would've answered with something to the effect of, "You feel anger because you assume that the only reason he healed you was to avoid hearing you whine about the pain."

She ignored this logical answer because it did not suit her anger. Because letting go of anger wasn't as satisfactory as fueling it.

Mr. Yaxley was slowly getting accustomed to the children that would swarm into his inn as night fell once a week, and when they stopped coming, he didn't complain. He'd overheard Gage at the last meeting announcing that they could no longer meet "due to the fact that our location has been compromised" which led to a long explanation of the word "compromised" to the youngest of the group. Whatever that meant. In Yaxley's opinion, the kids didn't want to be overheard by himself or the only guest currently staying at his inn. And in that respect, he didn't blame them.

However, the sword smith's children were still coming, and they no longer respected the guest's privacy. They would gather at his door, Gage in tow, until he let them in.

But not today. He wouldn't allow it. Gage had entered the inn just a few hours before dawn, and his father was waiting for him with a practiced disapproving gaze. Yaxley grounded him when the boy refused to explain his whereabouts, and now Gage would sit behind the reception desk until sundown. No "breaks" in which he could leave to find the Garris siblings. No time to "stretch" and visit their guest.

Jordan Yaxley glared at his son as the teen fidgeted in his chair and received a sheepish, apologetic, and most likely rehearsed, look in response. Arrogant teenagers.

The door to the inn slammed open, an extremely enraged Anna Garris practically flying up the stairs and pounding on the guest's door. Gage picked up his chair from where it had fallen when he'd jumped out of it wincing as he touched his head in the spot where he had whacked it on the back wall. Jordan shook his head and pushed a pile of paperwork toward his son. As he saw it, the best way to eliminate curiosity was to keep busy with paperwork he didn't feel like doing himself.

Why is it that, the one time he was actually able to sleep, an irate female had to try to break down his door?

Kratos groaned, rubbing his eyes; he was not used to being sleepy. After all, it only happened about once every two months. His foggy brain vaguely wondered why then he would be sleepy after only two weeks without sleep until someone started pounding on his door again.

Pulling open the door, he barely had time to step out of the way before Anna ran into the room, putting one hand on her hip and the other pointed at him accusingly.

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow questioningly, attempting to look more awake than he actually was.

Apparently his actions didn't sedate her, and she shouted at him, "You jerk! You think you can just use magic on people without their permission?!"

…what? Was she dreaming or something? He hadn't used any magic on her.

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

She huffed indignantly and continued, still furious, "I would've been fine without it! I don't need your help!"

That was when Kratos noticed how exuberantly she was waving her arms, and how a certain forearm seemed to be lacking a bandage. Or a wound from an arrow, for that matter.

He caught said arm as it came down, running his thumb along the scar that now marred her tanned skin. The girl immediately halted her movements and watched his eyes as they examined her arm.

"You were healed?" he breathed.

"I was."

"But I saw no light…"

"Of course not. You did it."

Ah. No wonder he was tired. Healing was the most taxing of the magical arts, and even an angel would need to recover energy after healing a gash like hers. Even if there was no damaged tissue, creating cells took an enormous amount of effort.

The only question that remained was how he had managed to heal her without realizing it himself? It was possible, and not all that unexpected, especially considering the contact he had with the gash as he wound cloth around it, but Kratos was a prideful Angel, and admitting a loss of control (albeit a small loss) was beyond his comprehension.

Anna was speaking again, softer this time, but still with a sharp edge to her voice, "I could've handled it on my own. I've cut myself before and I've never needed healing." There was a large amount of defiance laced in her words, as they both knew that an arrow to the arm was much worse than an accidental nick from a blade.

She was angry at him because healing her meant he had accused her of some weakness? That was a bit…backwards, wasn't it? He had healed her to lessen her pain, not to question her pain threshold.

"You're welcome." He said sulkily, removing his hands from her arm, "You misunderstand my intentions. I meant to help."

"I was fine on my own!"

"Then in the future I will not even consider healing you. Is that acceptable, Ms. Garris?" He was both exasperated and amused at her antics and therefore unable to see the slight fear enter her emerald eyes as he spoke, her stance becoming less hostile and more relaxed.

"You won't?" It came out as a loud murmur, as if she had not meant to say it. Kratos nodded, his auburn spikes swaying lightly.

"…okay then. Good."

As obviously unsure of herself as she appeared, he shouldn't have let her leave. But he did.

And Gage wondered just what the man had done to her as she shuffled past him, without acknowledgement, and left the building. His head followed her movements until his father whacked him on the head, unfortunately in the same spot as he'd previously hit it on the wall. He rubbed the back of head and resigned himself to waiting until nightfall to talk to her.

Technically, the Garris siblings were grounded. Realistically, only one of them allowed such a punishment. And the other was too busy trying to hold onto her anger to listen to her parents, who were very concerned about how she had acquired that long scar on her arm.

By the time Altair had convinced them that she was not suicidal, Anna had returned from the inn looking rather dejected. Lira yelled at her for leaving, but the girl didn't seem to hear her, while Eric sent her sympathetic glances. When her mother was finished, Anna returned to her room, her brother following.

"So he's a Desian with magical powers, what's the big deal?" Altair asked, once the siblings were out of earshot in Anna's room.

The girl rubbed her scarred arm worriedly. "But why would a Desian heal me?"

"He probably felt guilty for you taking an arrow meant for him. Even Desians have hearts, Anna."

"That's the other thing that's bothering me. Assassins are normally Desians, right? So why would a Desian want to kill his own kind?"

"Quit making things so complicated. I'm sure there are citizens that want him gone more than Desians. Someone tried to kill a Desian. There's nothing wrong with that."

She ignored the comment and fell onto her bed dramatically, one arm punching the air triumphantly, "I'll bet he's a spy that got caught, and now the Desians are trying to get rid of him before he can tell his superiors their plans!"

"…Anna, you can be really weird sometimes."

She grinned, but the smile faded as she recalled her argument with Kratos.

"I made him promise not to heal me again. Was that bad?"

Altair shook his head and groaned, brown bangs flying haphazardly about his boyish face. "You are so headstrong, Anna. You think that being healed is a sign of weakness, don't you? That he thought you were weak."

He took the silence that followed as reluctant agreement to his statement, watching Anna's lips form a tight line and her brows furrow as she fought to form the correct words.

"Is he really a Desian, Altair?"

"I dunno. Does it matter? He hasn't exactly done anything Desian-like, has he?" The boy pushed himself off his sister's bed, heading for the door. He flashed her a reassuring smile, and she returned it, but it did not meet her eyes.

That night, the youths met for the first time in several days. Considering their original location had been compromised by a Desian Architect/spy, they opted to meet at their leader's forge instead. Gage leaned against the door with his arms crossed, observing the children seated in a circle on the floor. The older children lounged near tables and chairs, on which many incomplete weapons were strewn, but the youngest scooted quickly away from the sharp objects and formed a tight circle by the forge's fires.

As summer slowly turned to fall, the nights grew colder, and the children greatly appreciated the heat the fire generated.

This meeting would be one of the last before the start of school. It would also set in motion a series of events that would eventually result in the merging of two worlds. But that's another, better known story.

Gage began with a summary of the Desian-related incident since their last meeting, which was surprisingly minimal considering the construction of that new ranch. He also mentioned that the Asgard merchant caravan would be arriving tonight to set up shop tomorrow, and several children whooped. The caravan always held many objects that fascinated and occupied the children for several weeks.

They sparred for an hour or two as usual, ending with an epic battle between the Garris siblings. Altair held his ground exceedingly well, and everyone was so entertained by the spectacle that they didn't notice any of the events occurring outside.

If they had been more alert, they would've seen the Asgard merchant Caravan approaching, which was normally a cause for excitement, but only for the children. However, the caravan was approaching at an alarming speed, and so even the adults peered out of their windows to see it. The merchants were running, practically sprinting, toward the town frantically.

People started to cautiously leave the safety of their front porches, pausing only to yell at their children to stay in the house, all of them looking at the arriving caravan in confusion and growing fear.

Anna and Altair's fight grew in intensity as they became even more absorbed in their determination to best the other, swords clashing loudly with every parry, block, and thrust until finally their weapons collided with a deafening bang that shook the very ground beneath them, the children gathered around them jumping in surprise-

…Or was that bang the product of the Asgard caravan hurriedly rolling into the lake town as one of their carts exploded in a bright shower of green sparks?

It was, in fact, the latter, but not for the reason one would think. No bomb of superior technology had gone off- just a stupid merchant accidentally setting fire to his wares, which consisted of a lot of copper.

However, considering their rather peculiar arrival, the residents of Luin began to panic at the sight of a cart exploding. Some of the merchants began approaching the people, yelling unintelligible phrases and waving their arms.

Realization slowly dawned on the youths as Altair and Anna blinked at each other, shocked at the noise their weapons had apparently caused. And then Gage opened the door an inch.

"What is it, Gage?" the barkeep's son inquire, his arms wrapped around his blonde girlfriend.

"The Asgard caravan is here…" he began, brows furrowing as his brain tried to comprehend what he was seeing.

A chorus of cheers could be heard, that is, until the innkeeper's son spoke again.

"…and it's on fire."

A/N: Is it sad that the mental image of this made me laugh like a madwoman? …yes, it is.