Alara unconsciously ran a hand along her scarred face, waiting for Quenti to say something. The silence between them stretched on as Alara felt the hard bark of the tree digging into her back. She was no longer looking at Quenti, unsure of what she’d see, dreading the looks of pity or fear this story could bring with it.

Then again, she wasn’t sure how one responded to the “I killed Mama and a bunch of children with my magia” story.

“No snide remarks?” Alara said.

“Is that what you expect from me?” Quenti’s voice was soft. Softer than Alara had heard before.

She winced—there was the pity.

“The Haven isn’t some evil entity trying to suppress me. They’ve protected me, helped me gain control and learn not to hurt myself or others. The magia we all wield is wonderful, but it also has the capacity to hurt and kill.” Alara took a deep breath. Her heart was beating hard in her chest. “I don't know how many people I killed that day. I can’t lose control again.”

Quenti was silent for a moment. “There’s a fine line between controlling your magia and suppressing it.”

Alara pushed herself off of the tree she had been leaning against and shook her head. “Maybe, but I’d rather suppress my magia than lose control again.”

Quenti didn’t respond to this. The two of them resumed their slow trudge through the forest in silence. Alara’s heart still pounding, she felt a tinge of regret for having told Quenti her secret. That’s what it had become. Alara had learned when she was much younger not to discuss her past. Adelmo and Emaru were the only ones close to her that knew the story.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, right?” Quenti’s voice startled Alara, and it took her a moment to register her words. “When I discovered my magia, I screwed up plenty. I almost got Mama and me caught even after I gained more control. I hate to agree with Emaru, but if you practiced and trained, you could be amazing.”

“Or terrible.”

To Alara’s surprise, Quenti nodded at this. “Couldn’t anyone, though, powers or not?”

Alara chewed on her lip. That was the closest to an apology she’d get from Quenti.

They trudged on, neither looking at each other nor speaking, the sun inching across the sky, sending light dancing through the trees. But the silence seemed less heavy than it had before. For a few moments, Alara even appreciated the whistle of the warm breeze and rustling of wildlife in the branches above them. She rarely had the chance to appreciate the sounds of nature in the forest. More often than not, she was hunting bruyas or trying to control her magia.

The anxiety that Alara didn’t even realize was there unfurled itself in her gut as they walked, and she allowed herself to be lulled by the forest ambience. The air felt thinner today, and the shade seemed a few degrees cooler as she passed between pockets of sunshine. Yet, her feet still ached which each step, taking her farther from home. She thought of Adelmo and his stable full of l’lamagas and imagined herself slumped in the saddle of one, breathing in the musty scent of animal. She was so lost in her own thoughts that she didn’t register the lengthening shadows until Quenti stopped them in another small clearing.

Alara foraged through the forest nearby to feel useful while Quenti marched down to the river to fish. She found a few lucumas hanging low on a nearby tree. The fruit’s flesh was a verdant green, and they were large and heavy in her hands.

Dinner was subdued, their conversation quiet and stilted, neither speaking about the revelations that Alara made earlier.

In fact, the next few days passed much the same, in almost companionable silence. Occasionally, one or the other would make a mundane comment about the surroundings—“Look, there’s a condor up there” or “That tree trunk is huge”—but never anything important or meaningful. As if neither wanted to open the door for argument.

Alara was over sharing feelings.

It was only on the third morning that Alara questioned what the hell they were doing. The land had continued to slope up as they followed the river deeper into the mountains, and her feet had gone numb from their days of walking. Her stomach ached almost continually, hungry for more than just fish and berries. The meager food supplies Quenti had stolen from the Haven had run out two days ago, and this was by far the longest Alara had gone without washing or changing clothes. So bad was it that she was getting a headache from the foul stench that emanated from her whenever she moved.

“Can we stop?” Alara finally asked, leaning against a nearby tree. Its trunk was five times her size, stretching wide and twisting up into branches. Quenti turned with a startled look. “I need a break. And not just to sit. I need to do something about my clothes.”

Quenti looked around as if to ask permission. From who, Alara was unsure. “I guess that would be fine. My clothes could use a rinse.”

Alara’s smile was wide, almost giddy, as they turned to walk down toward the sound of the gurgling river.

When they got there, the sun had reached its zenith, the ground radiating heat. Alara sighed as she slipped out of her shoes and curled her toes in the warm soil. She had rinsed off at night a few times during their trip, but it had always been rushed and chilly in the setting sun. Now the air felt warm as she slipped her scarf, pants, and tunic off and jumped into the river.

The water was clear and shallow near the banks, although Alara could see it deepen toward the middle of the river. While not warm, it wasn’t as icy as Alara expected, having absorbed the heat from the sun over the course of the morning.

Still on the banks, Quenti unabashedly stripped out of her pants and tunic before throwing off her undershirt and slipping into the water, almost naked.

The two of them dunked their clothes in the running water and laid them out on the shore in a sunny spot to dry. Neither of them moved to leave the river, though.

Alara stood in the water as it rushed around her thighs, savoring the combination of the warm sun and refreshing river. Quenti went out farther than Alara dared and dunked her head, hair plastered to her face when she resurfaced. Though, in stark contrast to most of the trek, her grin was wide.

Alara was about to ask why when a jet of water hit her in the face. She stumbled into the shallows of the bank, and slipped on a rock, falling with a clumsy splash.

“Stop being a wimp and get out here.”

Alara bit her lip, preparing for the backlash. “I can’t swim.”

Quenti just shook her head. “Did you forget how much I helped you when I first dragged you in? I promise I won’t let you drown.”

Taking a deep breath, Alara stepped out farther into the river, feeling the bank dropping steeply away until she was standing on her toes, the water rushing by her face. Her heart leaped hard in her chest and she started retreating. But before she could stumble back, the water around her legs stopped moving against her, circling in a light current. After a few seconds, her toes lifted off the ground. She yelped, but her body only bobbed in the river, even as the water at the surface rushed by.

“Tada.” Quenti stretched out on her back, floating gently, in stark contrast to the rushing river around her.

Alara tried to smile, but she couldn’t shake the unsettling sensation that came with drifting at odds with the choppy surface of the water.

“Why do people do this?”

“Swim?” Quenti said with a laugh.

“This is not fun.”

“Not how you’re doing it. Kick your legs a bit—no, no—gently.”

Alara jerked in the water as she tried to kick her legs against the press of the current. Water churned around her and she gasped as an icy cold wave cascaded into her mouth.

“Calm down! You’re not gonna drown. Stop trying to fight the water.”

Alara shot a glare in Quenti’s direction before screwing her eyes shut. “I’m good to just bob here looking pale.”

There was a splash nearby and Quenti emerged next to Alara, her legs kicking back and forth. “Come on, like me.”

Pursing her lips, Alara copied Quenti’s motions, arms waving at her side like paddles. Before long, she felt her body moving in the water. She kicked to the left and then to the right. “El’dyo, I’m swimming!” A massive grin split her face.

Quenti laughed, her own grin stretched wide. “Masterfully.” She flung herself back again, her body lifting to float along the surface of the river.

Alara smiled and tried to let herself relax, feeling the sun warm her face. She experimented with kicking her feet a bit again, letting herself drift. After a few minutes, she lay back and closed her eyes against the sun.

She lost track of time as the two of them bobbed in the river. The water was icy against her skin, but the sun was bright and warm. The pain and exhaustion from the last few days seeped from her body.

Quenti pushed them back to the bank of the river, reluctantly, as the afternoon lengthened the shadows of the trees. Alara let out a small sigh of happiness when she found her clothes dry, warm, and mostly clean.

She and Quenti both laid back against the ground, letting the afternoon sun dry their skin. After days of walking, the muscles in her body were finally relaxing. But as she closed her eyes and her thoughts drifted, the calm of the day drained from her. The worries that had been tumbling through her mind during their trek rushed back.

Where were they going? How would she find her way back after all this? How long until she saw her own bed again?

“When are we going to get there?”

“It shouldn’t be much longer,” Quenti said.

Alara cracked an eye, seeing the other girl looking up at the sky, avoiding her gaze.

“You said that two days ago. What exactly is ‘not much longer’ in your mind?”

Quenti shrugged before sitting up to slip her undershirt and tunic over her head. “We should get going unless we want to make camp here tonight.”

Alara’s eyes narrowed as Quenti finished dressing and collected her things. She didn’t move from her spot by the river. “No. You need to tell me where in El’dyo’s name we are going.”

“Oh, watch your mouth, humble Haven servant!” Quenti held her hand up to her mouth in mock surprise.

“I’m not joking. How many more days of ‘not much longer’ do we have?”

Quenti lowered her hand and looked back at Alara, not quite meeting her eye.

The realization hit Alara like a stone in her gut and she scrambled to slip her tunic overhead as she leapt up and stormed toward Quenti.

“You don’t know?” Alara’s voice was shrill and loud, but she was too angry to care. “You said you dragged me out here because it was safer and you don’t even know where we’re going?”

“I know where—I mean, I know we need to go south until we hit an outcropping of rocks. I just… don’t know how far.” Quenti had the decency to blush as she stumbled over her words.

“That’s all you know? An outcropping of rocks? Please tell me you’re joking.” Alara noticed Quenti paling. She jabbed a finger into her captor’s sternum. “Where are we going?”

“I told you. We’re meeting Khuno.” Alara's eyes bored into Quenti’s, and she saw the slight tremble in her lip.

“Who in El’dyo’s name is Khuno, and how does she know we’re out here?”

“They sent a message to her. When I was in the Haven. We just need to—”

“Who is Khuno?” Alara was shouting now, her entire body buzzing with anger. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t notice that the cloud forest around them had fallen silent. The normal din of bird calls and monkeys moving through the trees was gone, and even the buzz of insects hushed.

“Don’t move.” The voice coming from the edge of the woods was cold and hard.

Alara swiveled, her hand reaching for a nonexistent spear on her back.

There were ten bruyas, women and men, spread in a crescent around them, cornering them against the river banks. They wore green and brown clothing and had mud painted along their faces, their muscular arms gleaming in the afternoon sun, spears, clubs, and bows raised in an obvious threat. Alara realized with a shudder that these weren’t just random bruyas—they were battle-ready soldiers.

After everything she survived, this is how things were going to end? At the point of a bruya’s spear?

Quenti was still pale beside her. Her hands shook as she raised them in sublimation. “Please, we’re just—”

“I said don’t move.” The female bruya that spoke spit the words out in disgust. She stepped forward, spear still leveled at the two of them. “You move, I strike.”

Alara’s eyes flashed over to Quenti, who looked just as frightened. Her honey brown eyes darted around the clearing and the bruyas that surrounded them, and Alara wondered if she was calculating their chances of survival.

But in an instant, Quenti dropped her hands and flung herself forward toward one of the female bruyas to their right, ignoring the sharp glint of metal pointed at her chest.

“Khuno!”