***
Almost no time at all had passed when Kiethara pulled herself off the damp grass with a groan. She stumbled to her feet, leaning into one of the surrounding trees.
Wait, surrounding trees?
Hadn’t she been right by her hammock? What was she doing under the green canopy above?
Kiethara turned around. Oh. She was only a few feet in. Her clearing was right there, the same—
No, there was something wrong. For one, she could smell it. She took a cautious step forward, and then a few more. There, by her hammock, was a patch of burnt grass. It was still smoldering slightly.
Her mouth fell open and her mind was blank for a single beat. What had happened? She had been standing a mere few feet from where the ground was smoking! Was she under attack? Her connection was silent in her head.
It came back to her then, the heat and the bright flash. Lightening! It must have struck that very spot! Because she had been so angry…
Kiethara gasped quietly and brought her hand to her mouth, lips trembling to the touch. Aaron had warned her. He had warned her not to lose control! And here she was, practically setting the forest ablaze again, as well as herself! She was lucky she had not struck herself …
She had failed him.
Kiethara could not find a sense of peace any longer. The tears fell freely again, along with the rain that now poured from the sky. She did not bother stoping it this time; besides, it was better if everything was wet anyway. That way, she just might not burn the forest down. It might just be better to mourn than suffocate the feeling of absolute loss, to push away the revelation that an ending was an ending, a passing was a passing. She had been left in the raging blizzard by herself and, instead of wasting her energy trying to follow the footsteps that had faded from the snow, she needed to accept that she was lost in the bitter cold and drag herself through it.
And for the next few days, that was exactly what she did. She mourned. She let it all out until she ran dry. The forest floor turned more into a swamp than a bed of soil, while the sun continued to remain hidden.
Eventually, time came to her aid. As the hours wore on, she found herself able to breathe again. She slowly began to gain control. She was not…happy. She just became a little more indifferent to the death, a little more numb to the shock, with each passing minute.
Once her head became a little clearer, she was able to take care of the necessities. She ate, she drank, and she washed the mud off of her garments. She made a routine for herself and followed it mindlessly. She focused on each task. When there was nothing else to focus on, she mourned.
One day, Kiethara found herself in her clearing, standing and staring at nothing in particular. She was trying to see if she could make her mind blank by gazing intently on the dandelion growing from the ground.
She wasn’t really seeing the pathetic flower, though. The image was just swimming pointlessly before her eyes. Her thoughts were not present enough to truly take it in.
There was a grunt of disapproval from behind her.
Kiethara jumped and then she spun around, unsheathing her sword in the same second. While she positioned it, her mind pulled forth her connection. A presence was indeed in her clearing and they had magic, but not nearly as much as Gandador and his goons had.
Camella was standing with her hands on her hips, shaking her head back and forth. Her short, chin length hair shone with a medley of colors—brown and subtle reds streaked with blond highlights. She was decked in puffy black trousers tucked into boots, with a patched, loose-fitting shirt to match. From the distance, she could pass as a man if she covered her head with a scarf.
She sighed and removed her beaded bag off her shoulder, dropping it onto the ground. She removed another pack from her back and did the same. She then crossed her arms and stalked forward, squinting at Kiethara with such intensity that her freckled nose wrinkled up.
“What?” Kiethara asked, sheathing her sword. She was surprised at how toneless her voice was, and how hoarse.
Camella seemed to notice it, too. “What’s the matter with you?”
“What do you mean?” Kiethara asked, slightly offended at the less-than-warm hello from her supposed friend.
“What do I mean? When’s the last time you looked at your reflection? The first time I came here, you were ready to ambush me. This time, I surprise you!”
Kiethara opened her mouth, but she had no response.
“Maybe you don’t realize the drastic difference I see. It’s like you’re a different girl! One who seems to have lost all sense of emotion and spirit, mind you.”
Kiethara gritted her teeth and looked away. Spirits and emotion were the last two things she wanted to be reminded of right now.
Instead of continuing to ask questions, Camella embraced her suddenly, squeezing her tightly. Kiethara remained frozen for a moment, but all of her defenses gave way and suddenly, Camella’s arms were the only things holding her together.
“Aaron’s gone,” she whispered.
As soon as she said it, she knew Camella would understand. All those weeks ago, the two of them had spent the entire night talking to each other. They had talked about love, their childhood, their family. She had talked about her grandfather, and Kiethara had talked about Aaron.
“Ah,” Camella murmured. “I’m sorry.”
They pulled apart, and Kiethara nodded. She took a deep breath as the sky rumbled gloomily.
Camella looked up. “These storms…are they from you?”
Kiethara looked up to. “Yes, I don’t mean to, but…”
“It’s been so stormy for the past few days. I first noticed it in Nikkoi; they’re worried about their crops. The lack of sunshine can’t be good for the forest, either.”
“I’m working on it.”
“It looks like you could use some sunshine as well. You look paler than you normally do!”
Kiethara almost smiled.
“I think I know exactly what you need,” Camella mused, a mischievous grin pulling at her full lips. Kiethara instinctively became wary.
“Oh, don’t give me that look! Trust me—it will give you quite a cheering up!”
“What will?” she asked, confused. She couldn’t imagine what her guest was going on about. She had not received many gifts in her life and never had she recieved anything that could give her cheer. Odarick had given her a robe for concealment and a bag for convenience. Aaron had given her a sword for protecting—
Kiethara stopped the thought cold as her stomach panged.
Camella laughed; the sound was strangely nervous. She walked over to her bags.
“My grandfather is very opposed to it, but I don’t see anything particularly wrong with it. At least, not the way I use it. The healers use it for medical purposes. Of course, there are those who abuse it, but we aren’t going to…no, I mean, just look at you!”
“Camella!” Kiethara interrupted. “What in the world are you going on about?”
She rummaged for a moment, her exotic beads making a unique melody as they clinked together. She stood back up, and this time she had a brown leather canteen in her hand.
She skipped back to her side and took her hand.
“Now I bet you’ve been moping around this clearing day and night, am I right?”
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“Not yet,” she replied cheerfully. “Let’s go somewhere else. Do you have anywhere else in the forest where you like to be?”
Kiethara did not have the energy to try to put a stop to whatever scheme Camella was brewing. She held back a sigh, wondering when she would be able to ask her friend to leave without appearing rude. It was the same thing as Navadar: she just wanted to be alone.
“My mother’s meadow, I suppose.”
“Meadow? Lovely! Lead the way.”
The two of them set off to the east.
“Did you carve these?” Camella asked, pointing to the symbols engraved in the bark of the trees.<
br />
“Yes, they helped guide me when I was younger.”
“Clever.”
Finally, they reached the meadow. Usually, the beautiful array of colors and the sight of the swirling petals made Kiethara smile upon the scene in awe. Camella certainly did, with a gasp of adoration; however, she could only look at it with a pained expression. It reminded her of more death and loss.
“Magical,” Camella sighed dreamily. “The forest blows my mind away, let me tell you.”
Kiethara only nodded. She did not trust her voice at the moment.
“Come on,” Camella urged, tugging at her hands. She pulled her along until they reached the center and then she pulled her down into a bright patch of tulips. Kiethara looked over at the cherry blossom tree tucked into the corner and shuddered. At least they weren’t anywhere near Trinnia.
Camella unscrewed the cap on the canteen. An interesting aroma caught Kiethara’s awareness and, for some reason, it seemed vaguely familiar. But from where..?
Camella brought it to her lips and took a sip.
“Mm,” she murmured after she swallowed. “That is heavenly. Take a sip!”
Kiethara took the canteen, wary but curious. Obviously, it was not poison.
“Drink!”
Kiethara put the leather to her lips and took a sip.
Oh! The taste, the burn as it slide down her throat…it triggered an old memory. A memory of sitting at an embellished oak table, surrounded by unfamiliar dishes and customs…It was wine!
“It does take some getting used to,” Camella said apologetically. “But trust me, you’ll feel much better after a couple of mouthfuls. Go on, take another gulp.”
Kiethara shook her head and held the canteen at arms length.
Camella sighed. “Trust me!”
“You take it.”
“I’ve already had my fun with wine; it’s your turn. I’m not letting this go until I can see the sun again.” They both looked up.
“So your saying this concoction will make me forget about Aaron?” Kiethara demanded, a bit angrily.
“No,” Camella shook her head solemnly. “Of course it won’t. Nothing would be able to do that. It just…takes the edge off the pain. Helps you appreciate Aaron’s life without the hurt.”
It sounded so unbelievable. Could something really do that for a person? Kiethara was used to discovering new powers, but this was different.
“I have to relieve myself,” Camella said, jumping up. “When I come back, that canteen should be a lot lighter than it is now.”
Camella glared at Kiethara, as if to emphasize her threat. She looked so serious that, to both of their surprises, Kiethara gave a tiny smile.
“Much better,” Camella said cheerfully before skipping off.
Still shocked, Kiethara brought the wine to her lips again. Maybe this was some type of potion Aaron had never taught her to make. Shrugging, she took a sip.
It went down easier this time. She could appreciate the taste now; it was much better than drinking water, or any other taste, for that matter. Well, besides for those honey cakes Navadar had bought for her in Redawn.
Kiethara took another sip. And another.
It was like a warm flame in her belly. The gentle warmth seemed to seep through her body, pushing away the gloom that had settled inside her. She took a deep breath, realizing she hadn’t been able to breathe this easy in a while.
“How’s that working for you?” Camella asked from behind. Kiethara twisted her head back and gave her friend a lopsided smile.
“You have to tell me how to make this,” Kiethara sighed.
Camella plopped down beside her and began combing her fingers through Kiethara’s long hair. “Oh, I have no idea. I get it from the market, or course. Do you mind if I braid these wonderful locks?”
“Of course not. That feels amazing.” Kiethara took a generous gulp of wine. “I must learn how to make this. Can you show me?”
Camella giggled. “I already told you I haven’t the faintest idea. Maybe when we get some free time we can go on an adventure and find out the secret.”
Kiethara gasped loudly, and then hiccupped. “Let’s go! Right now!”
Camella laughed again. “How about in a little while? Just relax, and make sure to finish that canteen there.”
So Kiethara did just that. Time seemed to melt into one warm, happy blur. Camella’s fingers worked magic with her hair until one, beautifully long braid ran down her back. They—mostly Camella, at first—talked through the entire afternoon. Kiethara did not even notice the sun, which had finally peeked out from behind the clouds, sinking low into the sky.
When the wine was finished, Kiethara stumbled to her feet, the empty canteen slipping from her hands. She spread her arms wide and hiccupped.
“Aaron was e-everywhere!” she said loudly. “I’m telling you, this man…this…man knew everywhere! Oops, I mean everything!”
They both giggled. Camella clapped and called: “Hear, hear!”
“He was an honorable man!” Kiethara proclaimed, swaying as she raised her hand.
“Let the world know, Kiethara! Let us pay proper tribute to his memory!”
“He was the best! He was the greatest!” she yelled.
“And his name was Aaron Pervel!” Camella yelled.
Kiethara’s crystals glowed brightly and, unsure what she was doing, she began puling magic from the forest. She pointed at the ground and screamed: “To Aaron Pervel!”
A massive pine tree shot out of the ground and into the sky. The bark creaked deafeningly as it soared to the sun, taller than any other tree in the forest.
“A tribute…to Aaron,” Kiethara mumbled. She swayed and stumbled to the ground, where she fell asleep with a light snore.