I turn around at her invitation. She sits up, watching me watch her. I run a hand through my hair to push it off my face and walk over. It’s pointless to ignore her. We’re stuck in a tree together for the next six hours, and she’s persistent. Maybe I’ll get some information before I have to run.
“Let’s wrap this up first.” Sitting down, I reach into the kit to retrieve the roll of clean white bandages.
She squints from the light of my eyes and I focus on dimming the power for her. When there is nothing but a dull glow, I bandage her calf.
“Never had to use a med kit, but I’m good at wrapping myself with bandages. To hide my healed wounds.” I speak to her leg, too afraid of what I’ll see in her eyes. It’s hard to speak these truths out loud.
“When I was six years old, my first year at the academy, Cole and his friends beat me up. They shoved my face into a puddle and held me down. If my powers hadn't manifested, I would've drowned."
"Cole used a handful of my hair to pull me out of the puddle. So he could hear me beg them to stop. I lost count of how many times they held me under and pulled me back."
“It was enough times for me to realize begging was useless. So I stared at my reflection in that muddy water instead. Then my eyes started to glow. At first, they glowed white and changed to bright blue. I was so scared. I pushed against the ground with all my strength to get away from my own reflection. And ended up throwing myself five feet away.”
The bandage is already damp with the remains of the bubbly liquid by the time I’m done wrapping the wound. I hold the end of the wrap and rifle through the med kit for the adhesive. The captain sits still before me. And I don’t dare look up. Her fingers brush mine to hold the bandage so I can search for the tape.
“Year after year I grew stronger, faster. I can see farther, clearer than our combat goggles. My sense of hearing can catch a sound from miles away. And I can sense shifts or changes to the atmosphere.”
Why am I letting it all out? The dam broke and the current is taking me. She holds the roll of tape and waves it over the kit. My hand reaches out to take it, but she pulls back. I follow, but she pulls back further until I’m staring into warm golden eyes. There’s no fear, or disgust, or judgment.
“I’m just like you.” I sound rough as I fight the tightness in my throat. “Just faster and stronger. And I have no idea why.”
She stays quiet and I can't hold her stare. I make myself busy with the tape, then stand up. Her hand shoots out to grip my forearm.
“You can teleport too, right?”
“That’s new.” I run a hand back through my hair. I'm fidgety, but it’s not from fear or the pressure from my powers this time.
“Hmm.”
“I . . . I think I’m only moving really fast like....” Stopping myself before I say, like they do.
“Why are you so calm about this? Why aren’t you freaking out?”
Aside from her initial shock when she was surrounded, she’s shown nothing but curiosity and acceptance. Her reaction is twisting my truths. The truth is I need to run. That it’s safer alone.
“How do you know I’m not?” Her eyes run over me and I try not to move under her study.
“Your pulse, breathing, and heart rate are as steady as they normally are.” A quick intake of air tells me I should’ve kept that to myself.
“You can hear all of that.” She’s not asking a question, but I nod, anyway.
A branch breaks a few trees away and I leave her to check it out. I reach the edge of the nest and listen. Growls and snarls from the ground demons are heavy in the air, but there’s no other movement. Not sure I want to go back and answer more questions, I stand there longer.
“It’s clear, warrior.” She unfolds the silver aluminized body wrap from the med kit. And tilts her head for me to come over, to conserve body heat. I should keep watch, but exhaustion from the long day is settling in.
“Rest.” She orders, deciding for me.
“Yes, captain.” I lie down next to her uninjured side. My eyes blink lazily as the leaves above us flutter back and forth in the breeze.
“Elia. I like when you say my first name.” She yawns. The blanket is pulled over her nose muffling her voice, but I heard her clearly.
“I like when you say mine.” Escapes before I can stop.
“I know. You got all dopey looking when I said it.” She actually snorts a laugh. The pain meds must be kicking in.
“I did not.” I roll over, giving her my back and stealing too much blanket.
Thinking of how easily she moved past my barriers makes me want to groan. If I’m honest with myself, it happened the first time we met on the transport. She was the first person that wasn’t afraid to be close to me. Who spoke to me without bringing up my family, without malice or anger. Instead of pulling the blanket back, she scoots closer, heat radiates off her.
“My mother died when I was born. I should have followed. I’m not supposed to be here.” There’s a sadness and hesitance to her words. She is a kaleidoscope, revealing only slivers and facets of her many colors.
“It’s been only me and my father. He didn’t know the first thing about raising a baby or a girl. Instead of fairy tales and stories about princesses, he read me battle archives.” Her breathy laugh is on my neck and I smile in the dark with her.
“Stories of war and heroes saving the day. But my favorite stories were of the founding warriors. The fable of the first battle. The story of how our nation came to be. About the powerful beings, protectors or guardians, that kept the demons back so we could build the wall. Especially the brave men and women who stood with the protectors when the demons surged to destroy humanity. How one brave man stayed with the last of our protectors when everyone else raced to seal the wall.”
Her voice is hushed and breathy. Sleep is taking her and I want to turn around and steal her back.
“Then what happened, Elia?”
She hums hearing her name.
“The last protector, surrounded by his fallen brothers, was too wounded to survive. So he took the remains of his strength and blessed the brave man to help the humans fight the demons. The guardian infused his power into the man, turning the man's hair white. And that’s how the warrior-born came to be.”
“You remembered all of that, all this time?”
“No, I had to look it up. I searched for it after your trial.”
She mumbles something I can’t make out. I think back to her hiding an ancient book when she caught me after hours in the library. The book I hid before Targe’s lab warriors searched Edna's office. The captain yawns and presses heavy into my back.
“Why after my trial?” I hope she’s still awake enough to answer but those pills must be kicking in.
“It’s you.” She breathes hot on my neck causing goosebumps to erupt. I flip over to face her.
“Elia.” I give her a gentle shake and pull the blanket off her face. Her mouth forms a small smile, but her eyes stay closed.
“Sounds nice when you say it.” She gives herself a tiny nod. “But not around others.” Her full lips pucker in a pout.
“Elia why?”
“It’s not appropriate.”
“No, why did you find that story?”
“Because it’s you. You’re the white-haired, blessed warrior. You’ll protect us all.” Soft snores pass through her puffy lips as she finally succumbs.
My body disconnects, a fuzzy weightlessness as I strain to absorb her words. A memory of my mother surfaces my mental chaos. Sitting at my bedside, she reads from the old book that reeks of mold and ink. The same story we've read over and over again about the warrior with white hair like me.
But that's not a story from a fairy tale book or fable like the captain remembers. My mother holds the Oren family records, the history of my ancestors.
