Sophia said nothing as the two of them made their way out of the city. A lone guard at the main road leading to the country waved them along, and they began the trek down the farmlands. She let out a sigh of relief after they had spent a good half an hour walking away, and only then did she speak to Emmet.

“I am sorry for snapping at you, back in the city.” She said. Emmet scoffed, looking ahead of him, down the path leading out of Elksbrooke. one that he had never taken before. Not this far, anyway.

Emmet couldn’t bring himself to say anything. What was he supposed to tell her? It’s alright, I was acting irrationally. I see I have no excuse for taking the last chance I might have to see my family in a long time? Sophia looked over at Emmet, who kept staring ahead and walking. She simply shrugged.

“Fine. Stay silent.” She said. And after a long pause, Emmet finally spoke.

“How did you find me?” He asked, his voice devoid of any emotion.

“Your lord sent out a message to–“

“No, I mean just now. I tried to lose you, and you found me.” Emmet asked, as if in disbelief. “I looked over my shoulder a dozen times and never saw you. Did you just leap out of the shadows at some point?” He asked.

Sophia let out a chuckle, finally feeling confident enough in their distance from anyone who might recognize them to drop her hood.

“Let me follow your question with another question: How was it you managed to slip away from me?” She asked. Emmet hesitated for a moment.

“I just… slipped away?”

“No, I wouldn’t say you just slipped away.” Sophia replied. “It was more, fading away. One moment you were right behind me, and the other, you were nowhere to be found. If you hadn’t been so sloppy, you might have even gotten away with it.”

Emmet couldn’t help but laugh. “It was enough to get away from you.” He retorted.

“Trust me, young man. If your weaving was really so good that you could stay hidden from me, it would mean they would have sent more than just me to collect you.”

Emmet stopped in his tracks, a confused expression on his face.

“Magic? I used magic to sneak around?” He asked in disbelief.

“Not magic, Emmet, weaving. Magic is some superstition that was made up to explain what could not be understood. Call it magic to another weaver, and you’ll look… well, like an amateur.” She said, looking back at him with a playful smirk.

Emmet’s eye twitched. Sophia was really starting to bother him.

“And I would really work at controlling your emotions, if I were you.” She said.

“It’s a dangerous, but effective way to manage your abilities. It could end with somebody draining themselves to a husk. Or burning someone else to a crisp.”

Emmet balled his fists at that quip, ready to give her a piece of his mind before she raised her finger to him like he was some child about to have a tantrum. “Careful now, it’s nothing short of a miracle you even survived your outburst with the Duke, let alone narrowly dodging your debut at the gallows.”

Emmet was ready to snap at her, but there was something that stopped him from opening his mouth. It wasn’t what she said, it was something he felt. That same feeling he had just before the stables went up in flames. Emmet stumbled back, the feeling vanished almost as soon as his attention was drawn to it, but he didn’t trust himself not to incinerate at any moment. He shut his eyes and winced, bracing himself for the explosion, but it never came. He slowly opened one eye, to see Sophia with her arms crossed and staring at him.

“Are you finished?” She asked.

Emmet felt his cheeks turn warm as he regained his composure. He cleared his throat and stood up straight, pleasantly surprised to find that he hadn’t been reduced to a pile of ash. But he did feel light headed, as if he had pushed himself too hard running in the hot sun. “Sorry,” he said. “I thought I was starting to…” he hesitated, unsure of what to call the feeling boiling in his gut.

“Weave a spell? You were.” She said firmly. “Which is why it is very important, that for the rest of our trip, you avoid anything that might trigger too great of an emotional response.”

“So what does this mean? I need to try and repress my emotions for the rest of my life?” Emmet replied, scoffing.

“Well it wouldn’t be the worst idea.” She said. “But it is hardly one we expect from the newly manifested to be able to accomplish. So for the time, just keep a level head. Do something to distract yourself, whittling is a popular distraction!”

Emmet couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’re starting to sound like a priestess.” He said.

Sophia rolled her eyes as she beckoned for him to follow her, and continue down the dirt road. “Is there a river, or a pond nearby?” She asked.

Emmet took a moment to look around and think before answering. “I think so. Should be one just down the road, a trail forks off.

“Perfect.” Sophia said. “Time for your first lesson.”

Emmet had only been to Stag Pond on a handful of occasions. A few times he and his younger siblings had come to swim and enjoy a warm summer day away from civilization for a little bit, another time he had brought a date there. With it being one of the only real dates he had been on, it was no surprise he felt like a bumbling oaf the entire time. Even rounding the bend and seeing the reflection of the trees on the water made him think back to the day and relive the embarrassment of spilling their lunch all over his companion. Emmet stepped ahead of Sophia, taking a small, flat stone in hand and chucking it towards the water. He counted the times it skipped; three, four, five… a solid effort, but he had done better. Sophia had stepped behind him as he counted, choosing a stone of her own and inspecting it. Emmet watched, expecting her to toss it in like he had, but that was not what she did. Sophia held the stone in the palm of her hand, and it slowly began to lift until it hovered just an inch above the skin. With a small gesture, it lifted itself higher into the air. With a flick of the wrist, the stone flew towards the water with the speed of an arrow, skipping a few times before sinking. Emmet wasn’t counting, he was preoccupied with picking his jaw off the floor.

“How did you do that?” Emmet demanded.

Sophia simply raised an eyebrow at him, as if he should know the answer after the past several days he has had.

“Ok, no. I know how you did it. But, how did you do it?”

Sophia gave a smug grin as she scanned the dirt for another stone. Rather than bending down to pick it up, she held her hand just out in front of her, and Emmet watched as it leaped from the ground and into her grasp.

“Telekinesis is a very simple form of weaving.” She began, as she held the stone out in her palm. With no more than a crinkle of her nose, the stone was hovering above the flesh of her hand, as if there was nothing but Sophia’s will to hold it in place. “So long as you understand the fundamentals, that is.” Emmet had hardly blinked before the stone left her hand, and he heard the rapid smacking sound of it hitting the water as it skid out well ahead of the two.

“Weaving, at it’s most basic understanding, is a connection with the world around you.” She said. “Before I could bring the stone into my hand, and before I could make it rest above it, I had to know stone more than even a master mason. It isn’t enough to see it, feel it, taste it, or use any of your other senses. Weaving is…” she hesitating, tapping her chin as she fished for the right way to put it. “It’s the ultimate form of empathy. Like you might be able to put yourself into the shoes of another person and understand their feelings, you have to put yourself into the mindset of everything around you to understand it. Then, then you can manipulate it.”

“So I need to understand the point of view of a rock?” Emmet replied, deadpan. Understanding what it meant to be a rock, or dust, or anything that wasn’t even conscious seemed ludicrous. But then, a thought occurred.

“But, what about the stables?” He asked, his heart tightening just acknowledging that night. “I don’t understand what it is the be fire, so how did I…” Emmet gestured with his hands and gave an uncomfortable glare to Sophia, silently begging her to not make him finish the thought.

“Because you aren’t trained yet.” She said, plainly. “You cared for horses before, yes? Tell me, can you explain to me how you knew when a horse was hungry? Or angry? Or scared? Did somebody train you how to pick up on these cues, or was it instinct?”

Emmet shrugged. “A little bit of both, I guess.” He confessed. “My dad showed me a lot of his tips, but a lot of them just seemed natural to me. Like it was something I had already known.”

Sophia gave a soft smile, nodding her head. “And weaving is the same way. We all can manifest this power at some point in our lives. Since the universe loves a sense of tragic irony, it usually is around the time young people are starting to set off on their own into the world.” Sophia plucked a flower from the grass nearby, a lovely violet sprout just by the edge of the water. “Maybe a career, or a lover, a family, you think everything is going your way. And then…”

The flower suddenly wilted in her grasp, the bright and colorful plant turning gray and dull, starting to crumble as she let the remnants fall to the earth.

“It’s all taken from you. Either you don’t know you can weave and you get yourself or your loved ones killed, or you survive and you are treated like a monster.”

Emmet felt a chill run down his spine, and goosebumps cover his skin. It wasn’t from nerves, but as if the air around him suddenly grew cooler, only to fade to warmth just a moment later. Sophia seemed to bring herself from some deep thought, and took her eyes of the remains of the flower to look back at Emmet.

“Anyway.” She said, regaining her composure. “It is important you get a handle on your abilities, know how to weave properly so your instinct doesn’t take over. The last thing you want is for you to act on your emotions, and have yourself another accident.” Sophia bent over one more time, and picked up another stone. She handed it to Emmet, who took it in both hands.

“I want you to feel the rock. Not with your hands, I want you to really feel it. Know every inch of it, inside and out. Know the dust on it’s surface, and know every grain packed in. Once you do that, we can start your training.”

“But how am I supposed to do that?” Emmet asked.

“You can figure that out on the rest of our trip. I don’t plan on stopping until sunset, so no need to rush.”