She stared at the rearview mirror, and he looked exactly like Mr Blake, although perhaps a bit more disgruntled than she was used to. She cast a glance at Mist, and he didn’t seem to be lying, not to mention, he would have nothing to gain by lying.

“Do you know the way to the railway station?” she whispered.

“Yes, we are going in the right direction. For now.” he whispered back.

Could the chauffeur be listening to them? She did not see the point in disturbing their ride, if they would be covering some distance if not a good distance on a borrowed vehicle. Might as well use it. The streets were, however, strangely empty.

“Tell me when he stops. We’ll leave then.”

“Isn’t this dangerous?”

He gave her a confused look, and the car bumped a little on a speedbump.

“Not yet.”

She would have to figure out how the confrontation would pan out. Even if they were going in the right direction, there was no way they would be dropped off at the railway station without at least a shouting match at best or a bloody battle at worst, and that is eliminating the possibility of a straight up kidnapping.

Who could it be?

The car took a sharp left plunging towards what seemed to be the direction of the river, Inahe. She felt Mist pinch her shoulder and she clasped her bag tighter.

They were no longer going towards the railway station.

“Hey Mr Blake,” she called out, reaching out her other hand. It had been a while since she summoned the amount of heat in the palm of her hand as she did now, and drove her hand down the silhouette’s clothes. The car veered sharply, and Mist crashed into her, crushing her shoulder, but she didn’t move her hand from the silhouette.

“Open the door!” she yelled as the figure under her arm began flailing try to get her away. Her hand burned through the soft shoulder skin, frying the muscles underneath. The blood that tried to flow vaporized, smelling awfully the way boiling blood usually smells.

Mist unlatched the door and rolled out, hitting the road, and she tossed their backpacks out.

“Who are you?” she hissed.

But before she could get an answer of any sort, Mist reached out into the car, and pulled her arm, peeling her away from the figure. They skidded roughly onto the ground, she heard a small crack at her shoulder and smoke billowed out the car, smelling of charred flesh. The figure had stopped moving, and flames erupted from it’s shoulder.

With the smoke, she smelt something more.

A faint scent of cinnamon.

“It’s going to explode.” Mist roughly pulled her up.

“We need to leave,” she agreed.

“Was that human?” he asked as they scuttled their bags and jogged back the way they came. She was pretty sure Aaron would have sent someone besides Mr Blake to drop them off, and she was pretty sure whoever that was, was probably dead.

Her hand was still icky with dried blood and bits of fried flesh, something she should examine later. A wave of nausea hit her, and she resisted the urge to puke.

“Are you okay?” Mist slowed his jog.

Behind them, the car squeaked and shuddered, collapsing into a ball of angry fire. Whatever had been in there, would now be thoroughly destroyed. Even for Inima’s rangers to figure out what that figure was. She moved her hand, slowly dissipating the fire.

“I’m fine,” she said, “Go ahead of me, you know the way right.”

Mist looked conflicted for a moment, glancing at the fire that was slowly dissipating. He took the lead. Fiera crumpled her fist together, extinguishing the fire completely.

The railway station was on the opposite side. Long train tracks picked up to their right, and soon they could see a slightly deserted building, with the words - Railway Station Inahe. The closest railway station to the Institute was not the Inima Main Junction which was located in the heart of the city but Inahe, located more on the outskirts of Inima. A good thing, because there would be lesser people to deal with.

Mist waited for her, and she cleaned her hand in the mud by the road.

It probably wouldn’t help her case seeing the blood and the grime.

“Who was that?” Mist asked, watching her rub mud between her fingers.

“We’ll talk in the carriage.” she said, stamping over the mud and spreading it evenly. She snapped her fingers and scorched the little bit of land, hoping that would cover traces, and rearranged the mud back. “You have the tickets?”

“Yes.” He waved two pieces of paper, and together they made their way inside, just in time to hear a train’s happy whistle.