Some stories begin with the morning sun rising over a mountain into a valley shrouded in fog, the murmur of a stream trickling over smooth stones, mist hanging like a translucent linen cloth over a dewy meadow.
This story began with a gashing wound, a powder keg explosion, and pain as deep as a fifty-league sea.
The trouble started before the shouting.
Edie was sitting regally on the stone bridge, the sun reflecting off her chestnut mane. She absentmindedly let the heels of her boots bounce against the rock as she looked out over the open bay. With each kick, small fragments of stone dislodged and fell quietly into the water below. Her brown cape floated behind her in the lazy breeze.
Lea stood in the middle of the street with an open maroon book. Once exquisite, its cover was now well-worn and frayed. She leaned over the pages so deeply that her eyes were hidden behind long, thick blonde hair. She was unaware of the crowd moving around her.
Ox, broad in the shoulders and thick in the forearms, stood behind a wooden cart. He was effortlessly unloading large crates for the nearby tavern. Raven, smaller and sleeker than Ox, helped with the lighter ones, yet still managed to grow a little winded.
Edie turned her head sharply. “Something’s wrong.”
Lea closed the book and swept back her hair. “What do you mean?”
Edie straightened. “Do you hear that?”
Ox set down the crate he was carrying. “I don’t hear anything.” He shrugged.
Edie spun on the stone rail, her cape snapping with the movement, then jumped down and planted both feet on the street. “That’s the problem.”
The door to Alfie’s house burst open with a sound like a snapped bone. Alfie stumbled onto the cobblestones, catching himself with one hand but not before his face struck the hard street. The cool stone did nothing to dull the sting of the abrasion.
“And don’t come back!”
Behind him, the door slammed shut.
The shout was slurred, thick with liquor and old anger. Alfie stayed where he was for a heartbeat, one knee on the stones, the echo of his father’s voice ringing louder than the impact. People along the street cast sympathetic glances but did not stop. They had seen this exchange too many times.
Alfie rose slowly, brushing dust and grit from his coat. The fabric was thin now, worn shiny at the elbows. He straightened it anyway. Habit. Dignity, even when no one was watching.
Quietly, so quietly the words barely left his mouth, he said, “Don’t worry. I won’t.”
Across the street, his friends were already moving toward him. The crowd hesitated, then parted, letting the young adults through.
Edie stepped in before anyone else could speak. “Stay still.”
Alfie barely had time to register the command before her hand cupped his cheek. The ache dulled. The scrape tightened, then faded, as if the street had never taken its due. Edie withdrew, her attention already elsewhere.
“Next time,” she said, “try not to lead with your face.”
Lea looked down at Alfie, worry plain on her face, as if she had long expected this night without ever admitting it would come. Then her features hardened. A ball of fire bloomed in her palm.
Ox marched slowly toward Alfie as if to protect him: fists clenched, jaw tight, his anger aimed at the house rather than the man inside it.
Raven simply vanished.
“Raven!” Ox shouted. “Do not go into that house. And Lea, settle down.”
Lea turned her palm downward. The fire vanished.
Raven reappeared at the front door, dagger in hand. After a moment, he sheathed it and walked back to the group. Ox met his gaze.
“You will only make matters worse.”
“What happened?” Lea asked, though the answer stood before her.
Alfie managed a crooked smile, one he had practiced since childhood. “Creative differences.”
Ox swore under his breath.
Edie stepped closer, lowering her voice. “You can stay with us.”
Alfie shook his head. He glanced once at the closed door, then away, as if looking too long might pull him backward. “No. If I stay, he wins.”
A pause settled over the street, the momentary stillness before a storm breaks. The crowd thinned. The sun dipped lower, its light draining away with the chaos.
Edie tilted her head, studying him. “We’ve talked about this for years,” she said. “Leaving. Just the five of us.”
Lea frowned. “That was just talk.”
Alfie looked at them then, really looked. Familiar faces. The only constants he had ever trusted.
“Well,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt, “now it isn’t.”
“Okay,” Ox said. “I’ve got a good-bye to say.”
He headed into The Lady of the Sea tavern. Less than a minute later, Ox emerged again. “That’s done,” he said. “I’ve said the only good-bye that matters.”
Raven sighed. “Now I have to tell my parents. I’m such a baby, but this is going to hurt.”
Lea clapped her hands together. “And now to go tell some lies.”
“And you are very good at that,” Edie said dryly.
Lea cleared her throat. “Oh, have faith, won’t you, Edith?”
Edie’s eyes flashed deep blue.
“I mean—Edie,” Lea corrected quickly. “Edie. I’ll be right back.”
Alfie and Ox stood in silence on the cobblestones. Edie paced.
“Are you going to tell your parents?” Alfie asked.
“No,” Edie replied, still pacing, her head held high.
From their shared history, Alfie knew better than to ask more.
Soon Raven came sprinting back, dark skin shining with a light sheen of sweat. “They said they always knew this day would come,” he said with a shrug and a soft smile. “I guess the sooner came before the later.”
Lea returned last, wearing a look of quiet pride, dressed in a fresh ankle-length blue and green robe. “I told them I was leaving a day early to begin my journey to school. Get ahead of my studies.”
Edie rolled her eyes. “And that worked?”
“Be kind,” Ox said with a grin. “Lea is the only one of us with money for provisions.”
Lea tapped the yellow purse at her waist. “And I am happy to share with my found family.” Then she tapped the rolled parchment in her hand. “Besides, this is our destination.”
The five of them stood together as night shifted around them. Dusk deepened. The city remained unchanged, yet already felt farther away than it ever had before.
Together, they turned and faced the open road.
