I round another corner, my hands scraping against the rough bark of a tree to stable myself so my feet don't slip out from under me. I don't slow down though. I can feel my blood pumping, my heart beating, and my chest heaving against the strain of running so much. I'm pushing myself to the limit and that means a lot coming from me. I just ignore the miserable feeling of being out of breath and enjoy the feeling of having a body again! The very thought of it makes me let out a bursting laugh. My mind didn't feel the twelve years, but my body sure did. I'm still itching for activity after three days.

I pump my arms (my shoulders starting to ache as well) and keep running as fast as my legs can take me. The sound of my own stomping footsteps sounds like a stampede as the vibrations run up my body to my skull. I think that's why I always liked running. It silenced the world, making everything including my thoughts quiet. It took emotional pain and turned it into physical pain in a productive way. Well, now my thoughts are almost too loud to silence. Still, this is better.

As I get trapped in my own thoughts I let my animal instincts take over and I'm mindlessly running from my problems. I'm not sure if this is a healthy way of handling things. It probably isn't, considering I'm literally trying to run away from my problems. I shift my weight, dodging to my left to avoid an obstacle I've made up of my mind. I've always done this though. When I was young my mom always had me do drills and tests to see how fast I could run or hide, but at around fourteen or fifteen it was so much more than that for me. It was a coping mechanism. I remember this old poem from prefail days that I used to love, Ash said it reminded him of me. I grew fond of the poem and still remember every line of it despite not being a literature person. You see, Ash was always good at things like language arts, or English, the kind of stuff that took creativity. I'm good at painting and sketching but I was never creative in a classroom setting. I was better at strict things like science and math. There's only one answer to things like that, it's not complicated. The poem is The Rider by Naomi Shihab Nye. It was written a few hundred years before the ecofail, in the nineteen hundreds or something like that, I'm not sure. That was a vague and largely untalked about time in history compared to the rest. The only reason Ash even read that old poem was that he was such a literature junky. Either way, the poem was always a good way to describe me.

Suddenly, my foot gets caught on the root of a tree. I go toppling down, face first and my chin meets a devastating blow to the ground. I grimace, scrambling back to my feet with a limp. I touch my chin and my fingers come back bloody. I fell so hard my head starts to feel blurry from the impact. I brush the dirt off of my pants, limping forward. I see a body of water ahead of me and I hobble towards it.

"Bik!" I curse.

If only you could keep your temper in check, Yarrow sighs. I almost chuckle.

When I reach the lake I take my shirt and pants off, easing into the freezing water. I go into the water up to my neck and close my eyes, thinking over everything that happened the last few days, the last twelve years.

My brother is married with babies, I can get used to that as strange as it is with time. Lark is married and as painful as that is, I'll be okay. She's happy and that's the most important thing to me. Harmonia is no longer a city. Now, what used to be Harmonia is called Rowanna, after me. Lachlan got to pick the name...speaking of Lachlan. I honestly can't blame him for anything that he's done these past twelve years. More than anything, I pity him and Lily. Lily is beautiful but she looks so tired and sickly. Lachlan walks around the castle with a frown and his eyebrows furrowed, he's always angry. And in the end, they just aren't a happy couple. I see them walking around and they both seem so numb like they are ignoring each other as they walk beside each other. They mumble something on occasion, something about a dress or some kind of pottery but it's always a quick exchange and then they go back to silence. I don't know if they truly love each other or not but they're definitely not loving.

What does all of this mean for me? I still don't know where I fit in here in this new city called Rowanna. I haven't spoken a word to Lachlan. Mom has been perfect and Ash has been great, Lark has been warm but...of course, it will never be the same. Sometimes I wonder if I can handle all of this. My mom tells me to make new friends but that's just as complicated. I don't want to be friends with people my age, seventeen or eighteen year olds. I'm twenty nine, just like Ash and I don't want to be treated any differently.

"Bik!" I hear a voice wince and I open my eyes. I see Lachlan stumbling through the woods and there's blood soaking the back of his shirt. He doesn't even notice me in the water and he keeps walking towards Rowanna. Once he's out of my sight I scramble to the bay and get my clothes back on. I want to go check on him, that was a lot of blood...and maybe I just want to speak to him in general. I put my soaking wet hair in a ponytail and start to walk back to the castle.

I raise my fist knocking on Lachlan's door, taking a deep breath. It only now occurred to me that Lily might be in there with him. Lachlan opens the door with a disgruntled look on his face and it quickly fades as he looks at me. Even this small gesture gives me hope that he might enjoy my company again one day. My eyes flicker down and I realize he's not wearing a shirt. I gasp slightly, forcing myself to look him in the eye but I think he already saw my reaction.

"What do you need? I'm busy," he says sternly but not harshly.

"Umm, I was swimming in the woods and er- I saw y- I saw you had a cut and... and I thought you might need some help." My voice starts off shaky but is stable by the end. Lachlan looks me up and down so quick it is hardly a glance.

"I don't need any help, thank you," he says, closing the door. Right before it closes I push it back open and find myself staring at him blankly. He raises an eyebrow at me. "Yes?"

"Do you need any help?" I ask and this time I think the tone of my voice shows it all. He sighs, letting the door swing open as he scatches the back of his neck. I have to look at the roof to avoid staring at his body.

Damn, is the only comment Yarrow makes and I stifle a giggle.

"I suppose you can come in," Lachlan says. As I walk in his room I see it's definitely the largest and most lavish room in all of Rowanna...but everything is untouched. The California King bed is perfectly made, the fireplace is unlit and the whole room seems to be collecting dust, except next to the window. On the windowsill are a thin blanket and a flat pillow. I guess that's where Lachlan sleeps. The other thing that stands out to me is the two grey sheets hanging above the fireplace and behind the bed opposite of it. "I just got a panther scratch while hunting, that's all." He sits on the fancy bed.

"Don't do that, you might get blood on it," I say. He glances around as if he hadn't noticed the lavish room he's sitting in before.

"Do you think I care?" He asks and I swear I can hear some bitterness in his voice. I want to immediately stab back, getting snappy too but I know I can't blame him. I take a deep breath and sit behind him on the bed, looking at his wound.

"Obviously not considering you sleep at the windowsill. What's behind the sheets?" I ask, reaching into the first aid kit beside Lachlan, pulling out some cloth and water. Lachlan swallows hard.

"Those are..." He trails off. I use the cloth and water to clean the dried blood around his wound and down his back. I feel him tense up beneath my touch. "I can do this myself you know."

"Are you going to stop me?" I say softly and that shuts him up. I start to pour peroxide in his wound and he doesn't even wince. I see him clench his fists though. "Why did you stop painting?"

"I still paint from time to time," he says.

"Not on your walls," I push.

"What do you think the sheets are covering?" He asks. Slowly, I stand up, watching him. I walk over to the big polished dining room table and stand on top of it, ripping down the sheet. I wish I could say I'm surprised by what I find. Me. Of course, it's me painted the same as before in the Underground. I have flowers in my flowing raven hair, a gauzy white robe rippling across my body and animals looking up at me with hope. It's just as beautiful as last time. I only take a second to marvel at his talent before climbing off the table. I start towards the wall behind the bed but Lachlan stands, pulling me back by my waist. "You've done enough. Now leave."

"Why?" I ask. "You let me see that one, why not this one?"

"Because it's my painting and-" Before he can say another word my hands have wandered down to his abdomen. He has several visible scars on his body but the one that stands out to me the most is where I think G stabbed him. I wonder what has become of her.

"Is this the one?" I ask. He nods.

"The wound Rook shoved his fingers into to stop me from saving you that day? Yes," he says and the silence after is deafening. "Do you want to know something? Rook and I haven't been the same since." I can hardly meet his eye.

"I'm sorry," I say weakly and Lachlan almost looks disgusted by it. I can feel his anger rising. I know I should just stop talking but I can't. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I just.-" He cuts me off with a scoff.

"Save your breath," he scoffs.

"Bik off!" I snap. I can hardly believe I said it and I hear Yarrow chuckle inside of me. I run to the wall before Lachlan can stop me, pulling off the last sheet...and I wish I hadn't. I immediately choke up and I ever hear a small noise coming from Lachlan's throat. "When did you paint that?" I growl.

"I...I'm sorry, I-"

"When?" I sob. He has no idea how hurt I am. The bikking painting on this wall is me again and it doesn't depict me as a goddess...it looks more like I'm a demon. I'm wearing a black ballgown and a matte black crown. The features of my face don't look light and happy. They look contoured and cruel. I look naturally mad and threatening, and the worst part is the animals. They bow to me in fear, not in love. Even Elena didn't really deserve something this cruel to be depicted of her.

"A few months after you became the EcoPan I went through an angry time. I knew that you chose to leave me and it really bikked with my head."

"So that gave you the right to paint me like a monster?" My voice comes out angry and thick with tears. "Like the devil?"

"What did you think I've been doing the past twelve years? Patiently waiting for your arrival like a good little boy? I went through pain too-"

"I gave up everything for you!" I scream and I can't hold back my sobs. I feel so betrayed. "Had you taken a break from wallowing in your self-pity for five minutes you would have realized that I came back for you! I could talk to mom and Ash and Lark. So why the bik would I force myself to do thousands of years of work in twelve years? Cause I loved you! So while I was slaving away as the EcoPan you were painting me as a monster and bikking Lily, is that right?"

"Is this about Lily?" He asks.

"Is this about Lily?" I repeat, laughing like a maniac. "This is about every bikking mistake you've made the past twelve years!"

"What did you expect?"

"I expected you to have at least a grain of kindness left in your heart," I say.

"Well I have none for you," he responds. There's a moment of silence.

"And if I could go back and do it all over again, I would change nothing. But let me ask you this. Where do you keep your whiskey?" I ask slowly and I see the pure fury on his face. It was a low blow.

"I think it's time you leave," Someone says. We look to the doorway and see Lily. To my utterly bewildered surprise, Lily's looking at Lachlan. She's talking to him, not me. "You've done enough for one day, don't you think?"