I could barely lift the ax above my head when it started to tilt me back—barely catching myself before I'd hit the ground. Regaining my step, I looked over the old thing. The head of the ax was much too heavy for the old, splintered wood it sat on, and even though I had watched Aspen use this thing like a kitchen knife, it took everything in me just to pick it up. The metal was for sure made out of a mix, feeling light in some places. Knowing what those metals were proved to be the difficult part.

  I thought about how the ax came to be, where the wood might have come from, and who cut it down. How the handle was crafted, where it had been sold, was something I’d already found out. The only thing really snapping me out of my questioning was the glaring sun staring me directly in my eyes as I was lost in thought. Trying to rub away the sting, I set my eyes back on the log I had been trying to splinter. Its untouched surface mocked me as I tried to lift the ax once again.

  This time, I could not catch myself as I lost balance, nearly falling back on the blade itself. Landing hard on the grass, I could hear my mother's voice in my head: “Wrenly Voss, how many times have I told you about touching your sister's Ax?”

  The thought of her nearly being right made me shiver as the crushed grass itched underneath me. Wanting to lie down in another defeat, I throw my arm over my eyes to block the blistering sun. It’s heat swirling around me as I try to calm my mind for just a second. I could feel it scorching my arm, while the tall grass blocked any of the cool air that moved through them. “So hot,” I groaned, feeling the sweat roll down my forehead.

  I usually wouldn’t be out on such a hot day like this, but my constant pestering nearly made my mother drop her fancier dish. The moment she caught it, she gave me a quick, deadly look.

  “Jeez, Wrenly,” she said in a sharp tone, darting around the kitchen to carefully put it back, “can’t you just give me five seconds without the questions? Better yet, go and keep yourself busy and do some chores.”

  “But I did my chores, mother,” I replied, trying to sweeten my voice as her eyes twitched.

  “Any chores. Just go do them.”

  There wasn't much to do since Rune and I shared the same chores, so I surely wasn’t going to finish her half. And Corbin was just a big know-it-all, who’d only show up to say you’re doing it wrong, in that whiny voice, as you're nearly finished. Aspen was the only one of my siblings who had the most bit of interesting work to do. I could watch her all day as she took the heavy ax with one hand and split the wood in two like she was snapping a twig.

  Her strength was something I’d crave, especially now that Mother was so sure village children were getting eaten up in the night. She’d go and gossip to father, when the poor man was half asleep, about kids getting lured and snatched by the forest edge. But all I really thought about it was that she was tired of Rune and me staying up late at night. She’d always burst in the room when I made my funniest joke, and the laughter was so sharp and painful I couldn’t stop just to save my own behind.

  Aspen, unlike the rest of us, was always allowed to stay out late. Her training was always one thing our father would get behind. Especially with her knight Exams coming up, being slightly older than our father when he took his.

  Forcing myself to move through the smothering heat, I made my way to the tiny shack my father called a barn. In a field without a single animal, on land we didn't even own. And it was only ever a barn in the hopes we would one day afford a chicken or two. But I never really understood why he would want some loudmouth bird anyway. We’d live far enough from the field to not ever actually hear them all the time. But the thought of getting up early in the morning before the sun even rose to work and hearing squawking birds, instead of that morning silence, was something I dreaded. Plus, the only sounds I liked from them were when they were sizzling in stews and roasts.

  As I lay in the rough hay of the barn, I looked around the holes that scattered the ceiling. Trying not to doze off as cool wind blew throughout the barn. I could hear the faint sounds of grunts through one of the holes in the wall. And as I peeked through it, I could see Aspen trying to hide herself away in the old and overgrown field. As much as she hated to say it, she was terribly shy to show anyone her training. But as she turned herself into a perfect stance, she held the sword’s handle closely to her face. Shooting out her arm with immaculate speed as she made a quick slash to the left.

  If a person had been standing in her way, they may have been shut down before they even knew it. I hated to admit I was in awe of her skill, because then I’d have to admit I was terribly jealous. And it wasn’t just her sharp sword skills that even scared Father at times. It was her warm, dark skin against the beating sun that made me look unelvish in comparison.

  Her brown coils moved softly, even though the wind was raging. It was as if she were calm in the storm around her. Her face was sharp against her toned body, always making sure she never missed a morning to train. Especially since our mother had just given her permission to do so the year before.

  If I even thought of asking my mother to let me train alongside her, she’d go and get my head checked. I had always had some interest in the sword and the kingdom's knights, like most village kids, but not more interested than just lying about and watching things.

  Plus, mother would never let her little one of twelve even touch a sword, if she didn’t let Aspen till she was sixteen. I had never really thought of someone in our family being a knight, although it did sound cool. Covered in battle scars, hero parties await your return, and enough gold to live off for a lifetime. If Aspen didn’t try to make her training sound so complicated, I might have tried to train with her myself.

  As I continued to watch Aspen, I could see every footstep she made. Her feet planted deep into the ground before every launch to attack, as if she were a hunter on the strike. She never stopped for a moment to catch her breath, dodging invisible enemies as if someone was really there to kill her.

  “She’ll get your ass if she catches you watching,” a nagging voice interrupted. As I turned back to look at him, I could see Corbin's smug face. Arms crossed as if he caught me stealing from the neighbor's field again.

  “Watching her train is not a crime, and besides, how will she know unless you snitch?”

  “I’m not a snitch.”

  “Ok, then don’t snitch.”

  “I’M NOT A SNITCH,” always quick to anger, he raised his voice in an instant. And I tried not to laugh as he balled up a fist. Even if Corbin was my older brother by two years, it didn’t make him any less of a twig. His ability to do magic took up most of his time, so I could snap him in half if I wanted to.

  If I dodged his fireballs first.

  “I didn’t say you were one now, did I?” I said, giving him a mocking grin that made his chest rise and fall like a dog after a run. He turned around for a moment, walking back and forth before turning around to me again.

  Letting out a breath, he said. “Enough of that, mother wants us home now.”

  “What for? I groaned, getting up, dusting off the hay that stuck to my now dirty dress. Corbin grabbed at his face, rubbing his temples at the sight of it. I’d done it again and added yet another thing for my mother to worry about when I got home. She would surely make a mess out of me and maybe even send me out in rags worse than what I already had. “Why? She just sent me away, and it’s far too early for dinner.”

  “Do you think if I knew I would hold out on you just to hear another scolding about how I'm 'supposed to lead you well’?” he scoffed and tugged me forward by the shirt. I had no problem actually following him back on my own, but I guessed he sensed the mountain of questions I was about to ask him.

  From his grip, I was guessing he really was going to drag me the whole 30-minute walk back home. I tried not to laugh, seeing his ears twitch every time I planted my feet and nearly made him fall back.

  “WILL YOU STOP?” he turned back to yell at me after the fourth time or so. “Why do you have to be so difficult? You’re like pulling a stubborn goat, but dumber.”

  As Corbin walked ahead of me and turned his face toward the beating sun, he looked most like our father. Aspen came in second, aside from the warm glow that touched her dark skin. Small, sharp hazel eyes, like our mothers. And densely coiled hair that went down past his ears. And he was almost as tall as father, too, so even mother would confuse them at just a glance if she wasn’t paying much attention.

  Special as he already felt, Corbin just so happened to be the only one of us who could actually use magic. The use usually came so easily to elf children, even at Rune’s age, but for halfings. We were lucky to even have a pool of magic to begin with. Even father nearly squeezed Corbin to death the first time he cast a firespell. I couldn't tell if it was out of excitement or horror as we watched part of our house burn down.

  Truly, I had no care to use magic, even if it made me less elvish to others. I didn’t look the part anyway, long, frizzy, copper coils braided down my back, and hazel eyes that couldn’t decide if they wanted to be more green or brown some days. And my skin wasn’t nearly as dark as Aspen’s. I just so happened to be a little lighter, like our mother. Unlike other full blooded elevs, we all had shortened pointed ears that looked as if they had been pinched and stretched. It was a common trait of elves to have such long brown coils, along with their ears pointed to the sky and skin as rich as the earth.

  In the midst of my daydreaming, my hands only sought to glide along the tall grass and bushes on our way home. The valley trees always seemed to have a calming spirit among their woods. Always clearing my head when I sought out its comfort. My father would always tell us of great old stories from the forest of Torein, the birthplace of the elves, way up north where the river meets the ocean.

  If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  Such stories always seemed too fairy-like to be true: a talking tree, a soul trapped in the woods, all fairytales if you asked anyone I knew. The humans already thought of us as tree huggers; what's one more thing for us to worry about?

  As I tried not to think of such a fairytale, we crossed over the old river bridge. I knew we would be home in no time, so I looked over the railing that barely held the sides up. The water that passed through the valley was sky blue and looked absolutely refreshing on a day like this. If I could jump in, I'd cool myself in a second, but the lashing mother would give me didn’t seem quite worth it this time.

  And before we knew it, we were back in our little village, Eastwood, one of many, sitting at the bottom of a valley of the kingdom of Escrin. Our village held a variety of elves, orcs, and humans, with dwarfs being as rare as hen’s teeth.

  I liked to dream about what life was like outside our small village, how the townspeople ran their markets on the right side of the valley. always light up at night like a moving string of fireflies. And seeing the busy traffic move things I'd never thought to imagine made me want to wander outside the kingdom gates.

  But such things weren’t allowed, not for me anyway, not for elves.

  When I closed my eyes, my dreams seemed so far, yet close enough that I could reach out and grab them. Unfortunately, it was just the back of my stupid brother's head.

  “Will you stop that daydreaming nonsense?” he turned back at me, rubbing the spot on his head that I had pulled so harshly.

  “Oh, whatever, Corbin, it's not my fault you had no imagination!”

  “I don’t need imagination when I can rely on reality to get what I want. You should try it sometime, and maybe you’ll stay out of trouble.”

  I rolled my eyes at his words, such a know-it-all, I thought to myself. “What a boring life you would have to be in reality all the time,”

  “ And what a crazy world to live in if we could only see your imagination,” he scoffed, looking back at me, dumbfounded. But I didn’t care if he found me dumb, because he finds everyone dumb, so it wasn’t really an insult and more of a standard he gave to everyone else but himself.

  Simply bored from the back and forth, I’d only hoped for this walk to be over soon, always taking longer when I wished to rush, and always feeling short, and when I wished to stay, a funny path indeed.

  Now all I could think about was the dirt crunching underneath my feet of worn-out shoes. Kicking rocks with every step as if I were taking them home with me. There wouldn't be much room for them anyway, as our house sat short and stubby among loose bricks and a leaking roof. It was only when we got right to the door that Corbin let go of my shirt. It now stretched and was unwearable for a girl my size.

  “Don’t wander off again without your share of chores being done, or I'll never hear the end of it. Especially because mother is in a bit of a mood.”

  “Oh, hush, I've already done my chores,” I told him, trying to pat away the wrinkles in my dress collar. “And why is she in a bad mood anyway? She wasn’t like that when I left earlier."

  For once, Corbin didn’t have the answer, only giving me a shrug as he made his way into the house. Sticking my tongue as I followed him in, I looked around the house that looked just as small on the outside as it did inside.

  Cobrin had quickly darted past the kitchen, and Rune was running around, like always, as if the place was huge. Making it seem like she was living in a castle, and maybe in her mind, it was. She was quite small, compared to other elf children, yet chubby if you asked me, and had our mother's whole face, outside her nose. Just barely being over six, she mouthed off even worse than Corbin, acting as if being the youngest meant she could do as she pleased. And seeing how mother didn’t turn to threaten her once, she was right.

  I tried not to look at my mother as she darted around the kitchen, knowing if I broke any concentration she had, she’d drag me around like a mule. That space was the only corner in the house she could call hers. Reading, experimenting with new recipes, cleaning, and anything else that would allow her to have a peaceful nook to herself. It especially came in handy when her mind was just as scattered as Rune running around behind her.

  Mother always had long, curly copper hair, although you wouldn’t know it by the bun she always kept it in. Her eyes were a glowing hazel, with thick eyebrows and a curved nose, but only Aspen seemed to get it. She had a warm tan to her skin. And she stood tiny in the whole family, aside from Rune and me. “But for real, you must stop your spying. I can not practice with prying eyes as if I'm some prey, and you must play with Rune.”

  “But-”

  “No buts,” she laughed, her voice gentle, “and you, Corbin, you must not ruin Wren’s clothes, you’re smart enough to use your words. So use them,” she told him, catching him in the shadows of trying to slip away and making a point at my shirt. We both agreed, neither of us wanting to fully do what she asked.

  Corbin did mumble a bit as he walked away, only because he didn’t care to be told what to do just because Aspen was older. Paying him no mind, I went back to my adventures, now including the opera singer in the distance for dramatic effect. It didn’t last long because the moment I got too into my dreams, my sword may have swung her away, and may have hit her, and may have knocked her down and sent her crying. Who's to say I did any of that? She is one for the drama after all.

  “YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE,” she yelled. Grabbing her face for a wound that was not even there.

  Throwing my hands up, I shouted back, “See, this is why I didn’t want to play with you,” in trouble if I don’t play, in trouble if I do. Watching as she ran away to cry into mothers skirt, I said, “See, Corbin, you're lucky not have to deal with an annoying little sister, since Rune doesn’t bother you as much.” He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. Opening it again, before shaking his head as he walked away.

  Knowing A general was coming over, I couldn't waste time on Rune’s drama, Corbin’s sarcasm, or my mother's worrying. I watched Aspen long enough to copy some of her footwork, even if I didn't know why one foot went here, and the other went there.

  I wasn’t too far into the routine when mother called for dinner, unfairly early. All we had on our plates was bread and a bit of vegetable soup. Not quite the scrumptions smell that had been filling my nose for hours. As Rune and Corbin didn’t say a word about an early dinner, I could tell they had not been told such important information as I had been. I could barely stomach down the food, too eager to eat, wishing for my mother to see, I wanted to stay up just this once

  But she didn’t, so now I was stuck getting tucked into bed early. Rune had already crashed from the dinner and was so loudly snoring that I could barely hear my mother wishing me sweet dreams. She had told me that every night, but obviously wasn’t wishing hard enough.

  As soon as she left, I forced myself to stay awake by any means possible. Slapping, singing quietly to myself, and wiggling for every yawn I had. I kept wondering which one had been coming over, picturing his statue, the only thing I'd ever gotten close to seeing when it came to any of them. And soon he would be in my house, with my family, eating my mother's cooking and chatting with father and Aspen. And me if I could, SLAP, stay awake. I’d just sleep for a second, or two, maybe even a minute. It wouldn’t hurt just to close my eyes before he came.

  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. Swiftly jumping up out of my bed, I could only think if that was actually just the sound of him leaving and I’d missed him completely. My whole head was dizzy from the sudden rush of getting up. But before I made a fool of myself, I pushed my ear up against the door, trying to hear the faint mumbles of everyone outside.

  I could hear my mother, so eager and cheerful in a tone I'd never heard before, and father spoke very little. It was the first night he had been back for two weeks, always leaving for side jobs outside the village ever since the farm produced so little. It was very unusual for my father not be cheerful as soon as he got home, and it felt even odder for a meet-up with an old friend. Aspen was as proper as ever, letting a voice crack here and there. Clearing her throat every time it happened. And then a voice so unfamiliar spoke. It was quiet yet firm, the type of tone that instantly drew anyone’s attention.

  It couldn’t have been anyone but him, and as I tried to squish my face into the door just to hear a bit more, it flew from out in front of me. Suddenly, I remembered all the times my mother had said not to push so hard against the old doors. A lesson learned a little too late, as everyone stared from the kitchen table. I only wished to sink back into my bed as a hot feeling flashed across my face; mother nearly died in her chair upon seeing me in my old nightgown, and messily tied up hair among guests.

  But as the embarrassment left and the excitement kicked in, I didn’t have much room to care, and I doubt he did either, as he spent his youth among the average teenage boy. As much as they tried to hide it, I could hear Aspen and Father giggling in the back, avoiding the sharp glances from my mother.

  Father was just as I remembered. His brown hair in neat locs down to the floor, deep brown skin, and tired, dark, sometimes almost black eyes. And when he stood, he was so tall that he had to duck just to go in and out the front door. I still remember Corbin measuring himself every day just to see if he was as tall as his father, and Aspen erasing and changing his markings to make him seem like he was shrinking.

  While everyone was still staring at me, I remembered that I much preferred to be up on my feet. Trying my hardest to look grown-up, I saw him there across the table. fitted in uniform with neatly combed back graying hair. His skin was roughly pale for someone who spent their life on and off the battlefield. still I couldn’t help but rush to his side to ask questions I’d never thought of getting to say.

  “How many battles have you won? You got any scars? How long did it take you to climb up the ranks? When did you start training? Have you met the king? What's he like? Do you plan on becoming a royal guard to the prince? Or are you retiring? How do you know my father? Have you come here to scout Aspen? Would you mind giving-”

  “Wrenly Voss, mind your manners,” my mother said through gritted teeth, jerking me up in hopes I’d act right in front of company, but I felt my heart racing too much to stop. He didn’t answer any of my questions, but I didn't care as he gestured for me to come forward to his side. He turned to me, his eyes unreadable, big yet a cold blue, as if he didn’t know what the right thing to tell me was. So now I could only think of what was wrong for me to know.

  “Your sister tells me you like to watch her train, little one,” he said.

  “Well, yes, but that’s only to understand it better.”

  He gave me a puzzled look, turning to my father, who didn’t understand either.

  “You’re trying to understand how to fight with the sword?”

  “No, just the sword itself.”

  He let out a chuckle, smiling to himself, “And why on earth would you be trying to understand a sword?”

  “It’s not just the sword, mister. If I ask myself an impossible question that no one can seem to answer, I might not ever know. But if I question everything around me, I can piece together everything I know to figure it out myself.

  He gave a satisfied nod, as if he never thought to question his own weapon before. “Do you have a sword of your own? One strong enough to carry you into battle and take you home?” he asked.

  “Mother says no, but I think I'm ready for one.”

  He gave my mother a look and went back to me. Reaching for his side, he pulled out a small, old, rusted sword. “You see, this was a family relic, and as I have no children to pass it down to,” he handed it to me, and I could only hesitate, even touch it. “I'm going to give it to you, in hopes you polish her up nicely.”

  Squealing louder than a pig being called for dinner, I jumped into his arms to hug him. He gave me a wild pat on the back in return.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’ll polish her up so good you’d think you’d gone back in time when you first got her.”

  Before I could continue to express my gratitude, my father pointed me to bed. Mother's face was beet red, and I swear I heard the wooden table snapping under her. I’d hear her mouth and maybe see a hand or two later on, but it wouldn’t matter as long as I could keep my sword.

  “Good night, thank you again, General Yestin.” I gave them all a bow, even though I didn’t really understand why myself. Not even being royalty, it still felt right to do in his presence.

  My friends wouldn't even believe the night I had. I could barely think about them when I just kept yawning, slumping over to my bed. I knew it wouldn’t take me long to fall back asleep as my eyes already felt heavy, and my mind was too excited about the sword to ask myself a million questions. I carefully laid the blade down beside me. hoping my mother wouldn’t just take the sword as I slept. The night ended so fortuitously that I forgot to ask why he was here to begin with.