Prompts:
36. Dreamer
37. Mist
38. Burning
39. Out of Time
40. Knowing How
Rydia knew Mama as a perpetual dreamer, often catching Mama watching her, eyes unfocused and distant as if she saw something far off. Rydia seldom interrupted Mama when she was like this, not wanting to disrupt whatever enthralled her.
Finally, Rydia asked, "What are you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking about you," Mama answered, smiling as if she had expected this question. "And who you'll grow up to be."
"Me?" Rydia asked, surprised. "What do you think I'll be?"
"I'm not sure," Mama said, pulling Rydia into her arms. "But I think no matter who you become, you'll impress the world."
Mama's job was to protect the Misty Cave, the valley's only connection to the outside world.
So, when Mama came running into town, thick tendrils of white mist around her ankles, Rydia knew something was wrong. Rydia abandoned the house made of twigs she'd been working on (for the Sylphs, of course) and hurried to meet her mother.
"Get inside," Mama said; her face pale and drawn. "Hide in the secret passageway and don't come out until I get you."
"What's wrong—"
A dragon's agonized cry interrupted Rydia.
Mama abruptly collapsed to the ground; she did not move again.
The sky exploded, sending burning balls all around Mist. The straw-thatched roofs were set ablaze immediately; people ran from their homes, their clothing and hair on fire; the air turned hazy with smoke, making it harder to breathe.
But still, Rydia did not move from her mother's side.
"Mama, you can't die!" Rydia sobbed, "Just because your dragon did…"
Nearby stood two soldiers discussing something; Rydia ignored them.
"Then the dragon we slew was her mother's?" said one.
Shocked, Rydia looked up at them. Her grief transformed into a strange new emotion, one that burned deep within her core.
Rage.
She was out of time, Rydia realized, as the three Red Wings soldiers drew their swords. She was too worn and depleted to cast or summon again. She could dash between their legs and run, but Rydia doubted her little legs would carry for long. She desperately wished she could just hide in the safety of the Inn's bed, and pretend it was her own.
When the dark knight stepped between her and the soldiers, Rydia assumed he would join them.
"Stand aside, Cecil," said one soldier.
"I think I'd rather not," the dark knight said, drawing his black blade.
"I know how to fight," Rydia said flippantly, annoyed at Cecil's endless fussing. She wasn't a baby, anymore! Mama started her teaching the basics of bows and rods when Rydia turned five and started exploring on her own.
"If you're out in the world," Mama had cautioned her, "then you need to be prepared to defend yourself."
Cecil frowned at her, uncertain. "Knowing how and actually doing are two different things."
Rydia mirrored his expression, exaggerating the deep frown. "I fought you, didn't I?"
At first, Cecil looked surprised, then sorrow and guilt darkened his eyes. "You're right," he admitted quietly.