"Obstacles in your path should not be regarded as obstacles. They are simply features to the landscape, which have to be negotiated. It only becomes an obstacle if you let it negate your own intention and will."

- Ken McLeod

December 22nd, 2014

"Klare-bear?" a voice sounded in the apartment, filling the small space with its gruff bass. "Klara, are you asleep?"

Klara's father knocked delicately on her door. It creaked forward on its hinges, exposing the prone, dozing form of his daughter sprawled across her bedroom floor.

He had left her be after hoisting the blood-sodden mattress into the dumpster behind the apartment complex. The faraway look that had been pasted across her face all the way home indicated to him that she needed her space.

Her father was relieved, in a way, that his daughter's mind had been at peace enough to be lulled into slumber. She needed her rest—the bizarre events of the day had begun to wear on him as well. He found himself yawning despite himself, the coarse curls of his beard tickling the corners of his mouth.

He recalled vividly the terror he had experienced when he received the phone call from Erik. The youth had been tight-lipped and direct, though the agitation and fear was palpable even over the phone. Klara's father had immediately shooed out the customers lingering in the gas station before locking the door and bolting towards the apartment complex as quickly as possible through the day-old piles of snow.

The ambulance was already stationed in front of the apartment complex when he had burst onto their street, the whites, yellows, and reds a stark contrast to their wintery surroundings. He had caught the EMTs as they emerged from the apartment building carrying a stretcher between them. Even from a hundred yards away, he recognized the pale face of his daughter poking out of one end of the sheet.

His belly had bottomed out in that moment. Klara… oh, Klara looked so small and fragile on that stretcher, as if the medics were carefully maneuvering a china doll between the two of them. Her short, wild hair was haloed around her face, seeming to suck every semblance of pink from her pallid cheeks. Ashen lids hid her beautiful tawny eyes from the world. If it weren't for the slight rise and fall of her chest beneath the sheet, her father could have easily mistaken her for dead.

"Klara!" he remembered screaming, rushing towards the ambulance. He had muscled past the group of onlookers that ogled the prone form of his daughter. A policeman had pushed him back roughly, shouting at him. He shouted back, yelling words that seemed to satisfy the policeman, as the man had let him pass.

He remembered repeating his daughter's name under his breath like a mantra as he gazed at her colorless face. He had followed the stretcher into the ambulance, sitting back and watching with numb fascination as the medics worked tirelessly to keep her alive… to keep that machine beeping.

A bright, red splotch had begun to stain the sheet directly atop her belly, spreading swiftly as if someone had dropped food dye into a glass of water.

He ignored this though, his gaze fixed firmly on her face as though he were determined to witness every last breath.

Klara's father had seriously thought he would lose her that morning. The doctors had bustled to and fro with sweat on their brows once the ambulance had reached the hospital. He had sat, rigid and unflinching as his fingers gripped the armrest of the chair in the waiting room, as though it were the only thing rooting his body to that moment. He had thought life would rob him of his daughter like it had robbed him of his wife. He knew that if she had died, his soul would have gone with her.

Klara was his only family. Klara was his everything. She was why he worked long hours at the gas station to provide for them. He would have put himself in her place without a moment's notice.

He was not a God-fearing man, but when Klara had magically healed, he had profusely thanked all that was holy because, it seemed, God had given his angel back to him.

Now, seeing his daughter alive and well and sprawled across her bedroom floor, his gaze drifted upwards for the briefest of moments as he silently mouthed the words, "Thank you."

September 27th, 3018

Her biceps ached from exertion as Kaz grumpily rubbed her heated forearms, cringing as they throbbed with struggle. Despite her best efforts the bars of her cell hadn't budged—she hadn't been able to channel the strength of Superman or Hulk and bend the bars back like putty as she had expected.

From the other side of the hallway, her prisonmate was chuckling softly from behind his bushy beard. He continued to stroke the pad of one wrinkled thumb over the surface of his riverstone in a pattern that Kaz now recognized was worn into the surface.

"Why didn't it work?" she demanded of him, only partly expecting a straight answer, if at all.

There was a moment of silence as the man halted the repeating pattern of his thumb, as though considering her words. A crooked smile then broke his aged face as he lifted his head to fix her with a glittering stare.

"Perhaps it will, when you want to leave."

"What?"

At that moment, a ruckus stirred from the end of the hallway followed by the grating screech of a heavy door shifting in its hinges. This was the only warning given to announce the soon-to-be presence of the guard, so Kaz seized the opportunity to grab the bundle of clothing—encasing the knife—and draw it protectively to her chest. She scrambled to her feet, her muscles tense with anticipation.

The sound of heavy, metal footfalls betrayed the guard's presence before he came into view. His stern gaze immediately found Kaz's, his eyes boring into hers from behind the eyeholes of his helmet. Like the guards she had attacked in the Golden Hall, this guard's body was heavy with decorated armor and chainmail. His face was expressionless, his mouth set into a determined line. However, Kaz noticed his calloused fingers nervously twitching towards the hilt of his sheathed weapon. She made him uneasy?

The absurdity of the whole situation caused a bark of unexpected laughter to burst from her chest, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the train of incessant giggling that threatened to follow. The guard physically flinched at the abrupt noise, shrinking back a smidge into the darkness. His actions only caused her to snort into her hand and nearly double over with guffaws, her body convulsing in the hilarity of the moment.

Kaz was still nearly on the floor in hysterics by the time the guard had recovered and composed himself, remembering his place. He drew out the key to her cell and unlocked it, his other hand clenched firmly on the butt of his sword, and swung the cell door open with a resounding clang. Kaz had only just managed to catch her breath as the guard took two steps into her cage and seized her free wrist. He then yanked her bodily from the cell, drawing a surprised gasp from the girl as she struggled to keep her feet, her other hand pressing her small bundle tightly to her breast.

She nearly tumbled into that broad metal chest as the guard jerked her from her prison and into the feeble light of the hallway lantern. She could see the whites of his eyes then, the quick movement of his irises as he drank in the sight of this small female that had posed such a threat to his king. The corners of his lips curled slightly, as if to comment on the way Kaz glared at him with scared eyes. Or perhaps he intended to berate her for her strange, short hair—orange in the dim glow and slick with grease and muck. Maybe his intention was to gauge her obliterated attire with reproach, commenting on the indecency she produced by bearing her belly and the undersides of her small breasts to the world. Or maybe the guard would have simply marveled at the idiocy of the situation like she had moments before, chuckling to himself at how such a small and unassuming girl had twisted the knickers of his country's top leaders.

Whatever the guard might have done was null, as an impulse of movement to Kaz's left distracted them both from their thoughts. The guard maintained a vice-like grip on her arm as his head whipped around in surprise. The tendons in his biceps bulged as his fist tightened around the weapon at his belt. A stress vein had appeared on his neck, throbbing duly.

Kaz's prisonmate, the old man, had darted to his feet in an explosion of unexpected speed. His face was pressed against the bars of his cage, his knobbed nose pointed straight at the two of them. He was not even a foot away from the pair, and from this distance Kaz could clearly see the bushiness of his eyebrows and the small clusters of gray locks in his flowing chestnut beard. Standing up, the man was short... nearly as short as Kaz herself. His wide blue eyes beamed maniacally at the guard.

"Do you know who I am, Sir Guard?" the old man asked of him, his voice raspy but strong. The guard's shoulders had already begun to slacken, perceiving this man as little threat.

"Stand down, prisoner," the guard responded, beginning to tug on Kaz's wrist. "Come, girl."

The elder grinned then, yellowed teeth appearing from beneath the fur of his beard. "The foolishness of man is so plentiful, if it were to be eaten then none may ever starve. I am Radagast the Brown, Sir Guard, and I would very much like you to release this woman."

The guard looked up, as if to retort, but in that moment the air became thick with beaks and feathers and cries and screeching. The guard screamed, releasing Kaz as he lurched away from her, drawing his hands to his face. His body contorted in on itself in an attempt to escape the onslaught, doubling over as he clasped his arms over his vulnerable face. Before she had realized what was happening Kaz had immediately thrown up her hands to protect her own countenance.

Murky memories of her relatively ordinary childhood came flooding back to her in that moment. She was visiting her grandma's farmhouse with her father on one of their annual summer excursions to the country. At the ripe age of 10, her father and her grandma's conversation had soon disinterested her and she found herself pussyfooting around the old Victorian home. Kaz was enthralled with the way the house creaked and moaned to her, as though it were whispering its memories to anyone who would listen.

She had found herself at the bottom of a narrow staircase, leading up to what she now knew was the attic. Fearless and not one to shy away from adventure, her 10-year-old self sidled up the staircase and slowly opened the thin wooden door. She had only had a few seconds to blink warily into the darkness before a chorus of screams seemed to tear the entire house apart. The darkness became alive and lashed out at her, sweeping her scuffed Converses straight off the top step. It howled and chirped and suffocated her, tangling in her hair and catching her clothes.

It was only later did she learn that she had unknowingly surprised a colony of bats that had nested in her grandma's musty attic. The memory of being assaulted by the cloud of tiny winged creatures, however, occupied the forefront of her mind in this very moment. Burying her face into the crook of her elbow, Kaz flailed uselessly in the darkness for a full five seconds before she realized she was not the target of the attack.

She unearthed her face from the safety of her arms to peek over at the source of the commotion. What she saw caused her jaw to slacken in shock.

A swarm of scarlet colored birds nearly engulfed the guard's thrashing form in a chaotic frenzy of feathers and piping wails. In the low light of the prison lantern the mass of beasts were almost indistinguishable from one another, the wave of scarlet and black seemed to descend upon the man like a shapeless demon hungry for flesh.

Someone was beckoning her, and it took her a heartbeat to shake herself from her temporary paralysis. Kaz turned her head to meet the stern gaze of the old man—what had he said his name was? Radagast? —the expression on her face mirroring her confounded state.

"Wha— " she began, bumbling over her words, "what did you— "

Radagast the Brown waved his hand in frustration. "Nevermind the how, little kirinki. It's time to fly. Go! Quickly now!"

"I—What about you?" she demanded. "The guard must have the— "

A clink of metal caused her to look up. A small mouse had emerged from the old man's sleeve, staring right at Kaz with its expressionless dark eyes. In its jowls it clutched a small, bronze key not unlike the one the guard had used to free her from her own cage. Kaz gaped stupidly at Radagast. Her brain was on overdrive in an effort to keep up with everything happening in this moment.

"Nobody puts Radagast in a trap," he assured her, his gaze softening. He offered her a sly wink. "I'm only here because this is where I need to be. But you, little one, you need to go."

Kaz just stood, rooted to the spot for a heartbeat too long.

"RUN!" Radagast bellowed.

The volume and intensity of the old man's voice finally formed the link between her brain and body that Kaz needed.

"Th-Thank you," she spluttered, offering Radagast a clumsy bow before turning on one heel and blasting off down the hallway towards the entrance to the prison. Fastening the bundle tighter to her chest, she ignored the jeers and hollering from the other prisoners and she entered their line of sight.

In three swift seconds Kaz bounded up upon the second guard. He had wandered into the hallway as well, likely nervous from the amount of time his partner had been taking in retrieving her. His eyes bulged as she burst from the darkness like a demon from hell.

Time seemed to slow down. From her peripheral vision Kaz saw the smaller guard stretch one armor-clad hand towards the weapon at his waist, mere inches from brushing his fingers over the leather-wrapped hilt. Her eyes focused on his face, Kaz watched as the guard's stunned expression morphed into one of distrust and anger. She witnessed the small wrinkles of concentration crack the skin between his brows and the corners of his mouth as he began to crouch, zeroing in on her. Though the guard was obviously leery of Kaz she knew he would not hesitate to run her through with his sword, finishing what the Uruk-hai had started what seemed like ages ago.

With a mere fraction of a breath to react, Kaz didn't slow her speed but used her momentum to launch her lithe body into the air. The muscles in her core and legs, chiseled from months of parkour, coiled tightly and released her like a springboard, easily flinging her several feet in the air.

The guard made the damning mistake of hesitating, and a beautifully dumbfounded expression warped his face the moment before Kaz buried one bony knee into his nose. She inwardly cringed at the sensation of cartilage crunching beneath her kneecap.

Knocked off balance by surprise, pain, and the momentum of a 110 pound body plunging into his face, the guard immediately tipped backward, clattering to the ground in a pile of leather and armor. Kaz tucked and rolled off of the man as soon as they hit the ground. As soon his mouth was free the guard immediately began howling (with a slight gurgle) in fury, floundering his limbs around blindly in an effort to strike the small woman who had downed him. Kaz was already on her feet, however, and easily evaded the guard's reaching fingers.

A small corner of her mind registered the fact that the prison had fallen silent, the inmates apparently stupefied into muteness from her display. Kaz, however, didn't dwell on this. She dashed forward and slipped through the heavy gate leading out of the prison, immediately pushing it closed and latching it back up.

Heaving a sigh, she stumbled backwards a few steps. She gulped down the musty air provided in the main room of the dungeons, realizing then just how squalid the air was in the depths of the prison. Though the air she greedily inhaled was stale and mildewy it lacked the distinct flavor of human filth she realized she had grown accustomed to.

A sudden bang nearly caused her to jump out of her skin before she realized it was one of the guards slamming his fists against the latched gate. It rattled slightly but didn't budge, as it was specifically designed to keep individuals in the prison. Muffled yelling could be heard from behind the thick door, and Kaz noticed the whites of eyeballs pressed up against the small cracks between the bars, determined to catch a glimpse of her. She purposely moved out of the gate's line of sight, unwilling to be seen.

Ignoring the commotion from the doorway, Kaz looked up the long, spiraling staircase that she assumed led out of the dungeons. From the top of the staircase, a soft glow of light spilled into the gloom of the dungeons, as if beckoning her to it.

She took a deep breath of the blessed air and steeled herself for what may await her at the top of that staircase.

Kaz peeked around the corner once she reached the top stair, staring into a blessedly empty expanse of hallway. It was nighttime, she realized. Only darkness and the twinkle of pale stars could be perceived behind the high windows adorning the leftmost side of the long hall. The only noises she could hear were the crackle of torches illuminating the hallway, the distant chorus of crickets beyond the glassless windows, and the wild beating of her own heart.

Kaz had finally abandoned her original clothing before ascending the stairway, pulling the clothes Éowyn had left her over her unwashed body. The garments were very plain but comfortable, comprised of a dark-colored baggy tunic and dark leggings. The leggings were a special kind of joy to pull on, and Kaz cringed as the form-fitting cotton grazed over her dirty and bristly legs.

Thankfully, Éowyn had the incredible foresight to leave Kaz with a dark gray wool cloak that was so big on her that she had to hike it up to prevent the ends from grazing the ground. The hood was wide, however, and successfully swallowed Kaz's entire head.

Thank you Éowyn, she silently thanked the woman, drawing the hood closer around her face. The hood prevented her from being an obvious target with her bright pink hair.

The only thing that Éowyn did not leave her was a pair of shoes, but Kaz figured there was a good reason behind this. Perhaps the guards wouldn't allow the woman to take them to Kaz. She wiggled the naked toes on her feet, sensing the rapidly-developing callouses there. Kaz just hoped she didn't step on any sharp rocks or sticks.

Focus.

She pulled herself back to the present. Kaz knew she had to act quickly; the two prison guards had likely come to fetch her for a purpose, so they would be expected to turn up with her in tow at some point soon. She had best get moving before someone came looking for her.

Gathering her courage, Kaz stole down the hallway, bare feet slapping against the wood floor. Hearing voices, she flung herself behind a column a hair's breadth before two heavily-armed guards emerged from behind a corner.

Shit!

"Where are they?" one of the guards grumbled to his counterpart, his voice irritable, "Lord Gríma grows more agitated with every passing moment. He wants this done."

The other guard darted a furtive glance to the entrance of the dungeons. Kaz felt extremely exposed in her position, only hidden by a slight groove in the wall and the cast of a long shadow. A string of curses bubbled through her mind, and she could swear the two men could hear her frantically beating heart. Sweat beaded at the base of her neck.

"Do you want me to check?" the other guard asked, sounding very much like he didn't want to. Did Kaz really make them that nervous?

"Yes, do so," the first guard told him, rubbing his eyes through the eyeholes in his helmet. "But use caution; I have been warned that though this witch is unintimidating in appearance, she is very formidable."

Witch? She imagined a cackling old woman with warts on her nose and a pointy hat. Kaz had to bite down on the fabric of her hood to prevent herself from again erupting into a fit of manic giggling.

The other guard nodded gravely at his counterpart's words, dipping into a shallow bow before striding purposely towards the entrance to the dungeons. Kaz held her breath as he passed her, though he seemed too preoccupied with his task to bother looking too deeply into the shadows.

As she heard the slight clink of the guard descending the stairs she knew she had mere minutes before her escape was discovered. The slight advantage she had had with the element of surprise would be lost. However, it seemed as though she were trapped in her current position. If she dared make a move in either direction, the second guard would surely see or hear her.

Kaz swallowed hard. Time was running out. If she didn't make a move now, it would only get worse for her. The guard going into the dungeon would realize what had happened and would shout for help. A small army would pour into the hallway, choking off all hope of escape.

Fuck fuck fuck shit piss motherfucker.

She had to run. She didn't know how many guards were behind the next corner, but she knew that she could outrun at least this one. She had to run. She had to run.

So she did.

A surprised, thundering bark erupted at her back as she blazed past the guard, running as quickly as her short legs would carry her. Her hands grasped at her cloak and hiked it past her ankles to ensure she wouldn't trip as she ran.

She rounded the corner and realized very quickly that her path stopped abruptly. Several feet in front of her, the path led to a pair of pale arches framing the dimly lit city of Rohan. Then it ended abruptly, as the Golden Hall of Meduseld was built on a stone platform taller than five grown men to accommodate the fact that it was built on a hill with uneven terrain.

Kaz had unknowingly spilled out on one of the sides of the mighty building. She paused for a moment, unsure, her bare feet skidding to a halt. The shouting grew louder from behind her, escalating exponentially in volume. A movement to her left caught her eye, and Kaz turned her head to witness a cluster of guards, alarmed by the noise, catch sight of her and immediately break into a run. She turned to her right only to see another gaggle of guards making their way towards her.

She couldn't go right, she couldn't go left, and she couldn't go back. It was almost comical in a way, like she was the punchline of some sick joke nobody had bothered to clue her in on. Or it was as if she were a character in a Scooby-Dooesque chase scene and she had run out of doors.

Oh, fuck it all to hell.

Knowing the guard from behind her was quickly bearing down—she could almost sense his hot breath against the back of her neck—Kaz lurched forward into a full-out sprint.

If she had had more time to consider her situation, her mind might have drifted to the conversation she had literally just had with Radagast the Brown regarding her limitations in this dreamscape. Recalling her experience with the Uruk-hai and the resulting hospital trip, the consequences of leaping from a 30-foot wall might have frozen her to the spot.

Yet the adrenaline made her fearless. The only thought that flitted through her mind was how she had successfully scaled the wooden barrier all those nights ago on the banks of Upbourn. Kaz didn't allow herself to consider anything else. She didn't think of her father. She didn't think of Jay. She didn't think of Juliet, of Allard, or of Éowyn. Kaz sank into a blissfully blank part of her mind, and, as her feet left the ground, all she could think of was how perfect the night air tasted.

Many thanks to my brilliant beta reader, Whitney.