I want to get going right after waking from the strange dream, but I tell myself I need to sleep some more. I'm still exhausted from yesterday's running, and the night's running, and the not sleeping much. It's still a couple of hours before dawn so I turn into my other side, try to roll my still damp clothes around me tighter and try to sleep despite the cold and the hard ground under my hip and shoulder.
I wake up again to the morning's light shining down the river straight into my face. I move, stiffly. It takes a moment for me to get up sitting. I stretch, and yawn. My shoulders and neck are hurting from sleeping on what seems to be tree roots. I roll my head around carefully, trying to rub even a little of the soreness out. I fail, and give up. Instead I stand up and pick my bag off the ground.
I'm about to start my walking again, but I realise I'm not sure where I'm going. Last night's dream looms in my mind. Or rather waking up from it. I can't remember anything, not a single thing about the dream. I only remember being sure, absolutely sure that I need to go back. That it is more important than what I can do for Tauria up north.
But it was a dream. Just a dream. A dream I can't even remember. What in the world would make me want to turn around, give up helping my friend and head back to the Academy? It must have been one of those middle-of-the-night thoughts that seem great at the moment but waking up in the morning they're the stupidest idea you've ever had. I can't go back. Not yet. I didn't get what I came here for. Going back doesn't make any sense. I have to keep heading north.
And yet I hesitate. I can't tell why. It simply doesn't seem right. There is something in my head, something that won't let me ignore what ever I must have seen in the dream last night.
What in the world would make me want to turn around, give up helping my friend and head back to the Academy?
The thought hits me like a punch in the stomach. I think I forget to breath for a moment. Something made me want to go back. Something in that strange dream made me absolutely certain I need to go back, that something back there is more important than trying to find help for Tauria.
Something made me sure. I can't remember the dream, but I can remember the feeling. It wasn't midnight idiocy. It was a sensible thought. It made sense. It was the only thing that made sense. There was no doubt in my mind. I need to go back.
I begin to walk, my steps back south, back to the Academy and what ever I saw in the dream that made me sure I need to go back. Just like the day before, I concentrate on the ground, on its gravity pulling on me, on the energy flowing through the earth. Slowly I begin to pick up speed.
~x~
I spend the day moving fast, though slower than yesterday. I don't want to tire myself too early. I stop to eat and have a short break a couple of times, but the gnawing feeling of urgency inside me won't leave me alone. So I keep pushing, faster than I should. I was tired already in the morning, and my body isn't used to this fast new way of travelling. I pushed it a little too far yesterday. And yet I somehow keep moving, something in my head telling me it's what I need to do right now. It's hard work.
The sun is soon beginning to set behind me when I finally slow down and stop for the night. There is a common camping spot just off the street, and I know there probably is some fire wood ready, like in these spots there usually is. It's a favour from one traveller to another: you don't have to go find firewood in the evening, in the dark and possibly stormy. Instead you can go find your share of wood in the morning, when it takes less time in the day light and you're not tired, cold and wet.
As I suspected, there is some wood there, but since there is still a little day light left and I feel like I need to do some lighter moving after the hard day's travel so everything doesn't hurt in the morning more than it will hurt no matter what I do I go out to look for some fire wood myself. I find quite a big fallen tree, that hasn't started decomposing yet. There must have been a storm here not too long ago. Even though the fresh wood can't be used in the fire yet, someone will get a good amount of wood from it once it's dried up. I drag it back to where all the other wood is stored under a surprisingly good shelter. I built a fire from the wood already at the site and sit down to warm myself some dinner. Mostly meaning bread and cheese, which only difference to what I've been eating all day is the cheese melted on the bread. I also roast one of my last apples. A warm meal-ish feels good after the long day.
A little after the dark I see a figure on the road, going north. It curves off the road and heads towards my fire. Not that it's surprising. A place at a fire and some company for the night are better than anything else on the road. The figure comes into the circle of light and turns out to be a young man. He pushes his hood off his face. He is older than me, but not much. He is weirdly normal-
looking and handsome at the same time. A face that is hard to describe.
"Good evening," he says.
"Evening," I nod and turn over my apple I'm holding over the fire on a stick.
"Mind if I join you by your fire?" he asks, voice a little rasp.
"No, not at all. And it's not really my fire, this is one of those places travellers often come to stay, open to everyone and such," I say as the man sits down.
"Yes, I know. It was mostly just a courtesy," he says, digging his bag. He pulls out some food and a kettle, pours all the food in and places it over the fire to heat.
We sit in silence. I turn my apple around again and decide it's ready to eat. I pull the stick back and try to get the apple off the stick, but it's too hot. I make a small noise and shake my finger. Without thinking I use magic to make my hands stand the heat. As I pull the apple off the stick I notice the man on the other side of the fire eyeing me. I blink.
"You have magic," he says quietly. It's not a question. Not an accusation. Not said in fear, or anger, or hatred. It's a plain, calm statement. My thoughts freeze for a second. There is only a panic rising in me. Suddenly I'm conscious of the gravity pulling me into the ground, trying to make me disappear into the earth, to make me disappear. But it doesn't. So I say the first thing that my brain is able to think of after the initial shock.
"Wh... Uh, who did you say you were again?" I ask, my voice steady, surprising me.
"Oh, so rude of me," the man says, "I'm Arren. And you have nothing to worry about. I also have magic."
He puts out his hand, over the fire. I can hear him mutter something, very quiet and very soft. The light of the fire begins to fade. Just the light. The heat stays the same, I can still feel the warmth radiating from the fire. The fire simply lets out less light. He is making fire dark. It greatly impresses me, tickles my curiosity. But at the same time a shiver goes down my spine. Something about it makes me think about all the bad things that you could do with fire no one can see.
Before the light goes completely out he draws his hand back. For a moment I'm blinded by the returning glow of the fire between us.
"So you see," Arren says, "You have nothing to worry about. We're alike. We should keep together."
I nod. Even though what he can do is interesting, I'm feeling the pull of the ground and some sleep. I can't keep up days like this, I think to myself. I don't have to. Just a day and maybe a half more, and I'll be home, if I keep this up, another part of me protests. I need to get back as fast as I can. Though I don't know what I can do to what ever is waiting for me back at the Academy if I'm half dead of exhaustion when I get there.
"We should always keep together," I hear Arren continuing, "The people in this country treat us like we're rubbish. Like we're worse than them. They throw us in jail for only being who we are, even if we don't hurt anyone."
I nod. I hate this. I hate the secrecy. I hate the hiding. I hate not being able to be me. Not being able to help people, because I would be punished, and because no one has taught me how.
"Sometimes I wish..." he begins, then pauses for a moment, "Sometimes I wish someone would do something. Like a revolution. Make magic legal again. Make the regular people realise we're here, and we're powerful, and they can't stop us from being who we are. They're no better than us. We're better than them. We can do things they can't. They wouldn't stand a chance against us, if we all united. I believe you understand the gravity of our situation here, with everyone not magic thinks too little of us, so little."
I stare at the ground. I don't know what to say. It all started well. I know what he was talking about. I know the feeling. I want things to change too. I want to be able to be me.
But we're better than them? We can do things they can't, true. But Tauria doesn't have magic, and she can make acquaintances anywhere, just by being her sparkling, laughing, bubbling self. And I can't. She can do things that I can't. I've never felt I'm better than her, not even after I found out I have magic. She's my friend. I love her the way she is.
I look at Arren across the fire. His words send a chill down my back.
"Knute, I need your help," he says, looking pleadingly into my eyes.
My heart skips a beat when I hear him saying my name. He knows my name. I didn't tell him my name. Did I? No, no I didn't.
He knows who I am.
"You poisoned Tauria," I breath, staring at the stranger across the fire.
Arren looks at me for a brief moment. Then he reaches for his hood, pulling it up and over his eyes. I could swear I see a twist of a smile on his face.
Then he's just gone.
_________________________________________________________________________
I am so tired. That's what's to blame for all the typos.
I guess that's what a month in Italy and almost straight from there to a week on camp in the middle of nowhere does to you. Why did I have to have a writing turn today?
I seriously need to sleep now.
That's what you could write about next. Sleep.
Good night.
~matu
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