Nania POV

Sitting on my hands meant I couldn’t fidget with them or chew on my nails. Not chewing on my nails meant my teachers wouldn’t be able to scold me over it. And not being scolded means I wouldn’t get even more anxious, biting past the quick to distract from the sick feelings in my chest. Still, that nervous energy inside me demanded I move, so I compromised by absentmindedly kicking my feet in the empty air. Occasionally my bare ankles knocked against the baked clay bricks of the temple roof.

This spot was my favorite view. A little ledge as near to the roof of Gresha City’s central temple as I could manage. Other walls and rooftops sprawled out below me, then the farmers’ fields, and beyond even them, the great River Ter. On our side of the banks were the Wastelands, but on the western bank of the Ter were the towering trees of the Deep Woods.

A funny feeling settled in my stomach as I spied them. That was probably where Elian was right now-- close enough I could see it, deceptively close… but at the same time, so far away. I could only watch.

That funny feeling turned sour. Really, I shouldn’t be out on this ledge, either. I should be learning channeling or magic, and disappearing from my lessons will mean a scolding no matter what I do. Maybe if I went back inside quickly enough, the Priestesses wouldn't notice I had been gone-- or wouldn’t scold me so harshly, at least.

Instead, I decided to investigate a commotion near the market square. I had never been particularly smart.

Leaping from ledge to roof to wall, I almost felt like I was flying. I briefly stretched out my arms, imagining what it must feel like to be the Sun Falcon, the wind in my hair and the world passing around me in a blur. As I approached the source of the commotion, I saw who was responsible-- a group of boys. All around the tender age of thirteen, trying and failing to imitate adult men by growing out wispy beards. Most wore their brown, auburn, or red hair long, another attempt at imitating older soldiers and the Crown-Son. Some of the boys looked familiar, though I couldn’t remember their names, but one I’d know anywhere.

Elian. My best-- well, only-- friend. Muddied, bruised, and now getting pushed around by these jackasses.

“Hey, ya little rat.” Though Elian was broad for a thirteen-year-old, this boy dwarfed him in height. They were all dressed in standard short red skirts, marking them as candidates training for the army. Their upper bodies and lower legs were bear, showing off what muscle each had developed. The taller boy slammed a hand against the wall, as he and his cronies caged Elian in. “Whatever ya caught out there, better just give it to me. Y’know, someone who can actually make use of it.” His cronies snickered, whooping and jeering.

“Actually, I think I’m being rather kind. Everyone knows you’re a weakling, Elian. A turtle. You never fight like a real warrior, just curl up and defend until the captain calls time. You even need to find materials for a magic weapon, instead of relying on your own strength like a man! The Angrans will eat you alive-- literally. Really, I’m saving your life. You should be thanking me.”

The boy leaned towards Elian, who winced at the closeness. “Meanwhile, I have the guts to take what I want. To put those Angran rats in their place. If we put a coward like you on the battlefield, you’d help them ransack Gresha! And they’d thank you like a coward deserves!”

“I’m so touched you’re worried about be, Brother Norm--”

“My name is Noran!”

“Brother Jorm,” Elian amended, “but there ain’t any need. I actually met an Angran in the Deep Woods. I already survived a fight with him. And he doesn’t eat humans, he ate the same food as me. If you don’t believe me, the scar on my face should tell ya plenty.”

Noran grabbed Elian by the neck. “Coward! You’re just lying for attention!”

“You probably just tripped and fell when a monster startled you!” another boy yelled out.

“Bet it wasn’t even a monster, bet it was the stupid island turtle he brought back! The idiot’s scared of his own shadow!”

Elian sighed, almost seeming bored by the mockery. “You guys done yet? I’d really like some food and maybe a bath--”

“First, I want you to thank me for my generosity, doing this great favor. And remember how I saved your life, if I ever want a favor in re--”

“You want this fucking turtle?” Elian finally snapped, and shoved the island turtle into Noran’s face, hard enough for something to crack. Noran released Elian, staggering backwards as he howled and clutched his nose.

For a moment, time seemed to slow. Noran’s lackeys prepared to defend their leader’s honor. They clearly outnumbered Elian. But while they were soldier-candidates, I was a priestess-candidate. Laying a hand on me was a crime, which could potentially get them exiled from the city. If I moved, I could shield my friend from them, and the whole marketplace would see what they had done. But time moved too fast, while my legs refused to move at all.

The fight was quick. Elian leaped and ducked, sometimes even held his turtle up like a shield. For a brief moment, I hoped he’d escape them unscathed. But there were too many, and he looked exhausted. All it took was a single lucky hit to send him reeling. He dropped the turtle, and the boys gathered around him with identical ugly grins.

The spell seemed to break, and finally I forced myself to move. I dashed into the middle of their altercation and grabbed Elian’s arm, dragging him behind me as we barrelled through the busy street. I heard one of the boys call out in annoyance, but another, smarter one quickly shut him up.

Once we were safely in a nearby alley, we both caught our breaths. Elian stumbled over to a barrel, and sat down.

“You okay, Ellie?” I asked. I hoped it was just exhaustion, and that those bullies hadn’t hurt them. Or worse, that they hadn’t been hurt in the Deep Woods, and then had to confront those boys. My eyes were drawn to the still-healing cut across their cheek…

They waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, fine, Nia. Nothing serious.”

I sighed, and collapsed onto a crate next to him. Having known my friend for years, I knew they were the type to hide their injuries-- but I also knew they’d tell me if any were actually serious. “What a relief! Where’s that from, anyways?”

“This?” They pointed at the cut on their cheek, and gave one of their gap-toothed grins. “From my fight with some Angra kid.”

My mouth fell open. “You were serious about that!? You have to tell me everything-- no, wait, I should get some food and bandages first. Then you have to tell me everything! Every last detail!”