The cold water didn’t bring back reason. I did want to breathe, however, so I stood and walked out. I was drenched and the water had made the long gown heavy and even more uncomfortable. I loosened the corset and dropped the dress to my feet, stepping out of it and onto a rock. I grabbed a shirt from the pile and slid it over my head. As I pulled on the pants, I noticed how nice the fabric felt, how good the cut. I laced the leather vest over the shirt. It seemed they were tailored for me; I’d never had such luck making my own clothes. These were trim and fit, much better for traveling. But where was I going? I slid my shoes on and saw there was a pack in the pile as well. I picked up the dress, trying to decide what to do with it, and the pouch I had hidden before the trial lay on the ground.
I tossed the dress over a branch and sat down on the rock, picking up the small bag. I’d carried it for days now and I still didn’t know what was inside. I pulled the binding loose and dumped the contents into my hand. A small dark ruby, a silver medallion, and a tiny scroll lay in my palm. I held the stone up to the light. Aside from the depth of color, it didn’t seem extraordinary. I examined the medallion, but didn’t recognize the emblems. I dropped them back into the pouch and opened the scroll. I tried to read the first line of the tiny script, “Fellon Strago Dreg.”
Electricity shot through my hands and I dropped the scroll like it was an angry snake. I held my hands up to inspect, they felt like they had been scorched. I smelled the unmistakable stench of charred flesh as I turned my palms inward. There were curving lines and symbols covering them. No, burned into them. I gasped. I’d been around fire magic for as long as I could remember. It had never burnt me or any other elf as far as I knew; it would only burn what it was meant to burn.
I looked back down at the scroll. I had read the words aloud, the fire magic was meant to burn. I carefully picked it up and rolled it back in place. I would not be reading from that again… I returned it to the pocket and bound the pouch as I had found it. Wow. I looked back down at my hands, trying to decipher the lines, and I realized I was looking at a map. Yes, it was burned into my palms, but it was a map. I wondered why anyone would have a ridiculous spell like that and then it hit me, I had taken it from the family vault.
I grabbed the dress off the tree branch and threw it and the pouch into the pack. Swinging it around onto my back, I started to run. I didn’t know where I was or where the map would take me but I knew one thing. There were mountains burned into my palms and I only knew of one place to find mountains. North.
I couldn’t remember much of life before going to live with my aunt Fannie. The village and surrounding meadows and forests were the only home I’d had, the only place I’d actually known. It wasn’t exactly a comforting place, but there was something to be said for knowing where you were, where to find food, shelter, and water. I'd been filled with determination when I’d started running, concentrating on north and nothing else. But as I made my way, I realized what a small little terrarium I’d been living in. The land here had started to roll gently, the trees were a deeper green and smaller – most wouldn’t have even been suitable for a single inhabitant, let alone a family. I didn’t think I’d gone that far, half a day following Chevelle and now today on my own. I was anxious to see the North.
I glanced down at my palm, reviewing the symbols again. I thought I had figured out most of the lines, creeks curving through the landscape. And the mountains were obvious, but there were still a lot of things I was unsure about, nervous about. I squeezed my hand closed into a fist and kept moving.
I tried not to think about all that had happened, tried not to think about Fannie, not the trial, not Junnie, and especially not Chevelle. Not the watcher. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other. I couldn’t even imagine what lay in the mountains where I was heading.
I wasn’t tired today, not as I had been almost every day lately. Since I’d been using magic? I shook my thoughts away again, counting steps… I was miles from home. A home I might never return to.
I forced myself forward through the day, only stopping momentarily at a patch of berries and twice to drink. The berries were much less palatable without the guiding hand of an elf but the stream water was cool and refreshing. As evening approached I began to get uncomfortable about the coming darkness, aloneness. Not that I hadn’t spent my share of time alone at home, just not alone in the middle of a strange forest, outside, really alone. I considered running through the night and sleeping during the day, but eventually decided to find shelter before nightfall. I slowed my pace and gave my surroundings a little more attention.