Stella was surprised by the brown wolf, or Watcher as he called himself, who was assigned to keep an eye on her. He reminded her of a puppy she once had; always full of energy and curiosity. Though Stella had no experience at judging a Lycerian’s age, she guessed he was pretty young, possibly serving his first term in the army. After he tied one end of a short rope to Stella’s handcuffs and the other to his belt so she couldn’t make a run for it, he began talking.
What surprised Stella even more than his demeanor though was how well he could speak the Torshen language. Where the black wolf had trouble getting understandable words out, Watcher spoke as if he had practiced for many years, though there was still what sounded like a growl every other word. He never asked her about herself, or said anything about himself, but talked about what was around him. He would ask her opinion about something, but when Stella remained adamantly silent, he would continue off into a different subject.
They traveled for several days, and after the first few days Stella had came to the conclusion that she couldn’t hate Watcher, even if he was the enemy. She made a few attempts to try and escape while he wasn’t watching, but whenever she got more than a few feet, he would appear out of nowhere and escort her back.
Just before night began to fall on the sixth day, they found themselves at the edge of the forest. Stella could sense another comment reading to burst from Watcher’s mouth, but the black wolf, who she had learned was named Grishka, came up and grabbed his muzzle roughly so he couldn’t talk. Grishka growled something in Lycerian to Watcher, whose ears hung back, in what Stella could only guess, as though he was being reprimanded. Stella looked at him, hoping he would answer, but he only pointed to where the forest ended.
Stella’s jaw nearly dropped when she saw the Torshen village. It was only maybe a hundred feet away and she could see the lights glowing from inside the windows of the houses. She knew she had no hope of being spotted and rescued with the shadows of the trees hiding them perfectly.
A boy who couldn’t be any older than thirteen walked out of one of the wooden houses, his blonde hair glowing in the dying sunlight. He made his way towards the forest, making Stella want to scream at him to turn and run, but she knew it would only put him and his entire village in danger. Stella watched as the boy came up and walked several yards into the forest. He came so close Stella feared he would seem them, but he only stopped at the stump of a fallen tree. He yanked out a knife that was stuck in there point first, inspected the edge, and stuck it in his belt. He turned around and made his way back to the house.
Stella sighed in relief, thankful that the boy had come no further. Watcher tugged on her rope, and without sound, he gestured for her to come on. They traveled later that night than they did the night before, trying to put distance between them and the village. Though Stella was glad the boy and the village weren’t attacked, she couldn’t help feeling sad that a chance of escape had come so close and she wasn’t even able to take advantage of it.
They stopped that night in a clearing next to a running river. Watcher sat Stella down by a tree, tying stacking his end of the rope in the ground and left. He returned a while later with a canteen of water, and with his help, gave Stella a drink. He took a quick swig for himself, and passed it off to another wolf, before sitting across from Stella.
“Stella, I want to ask you something,” Watcher said, his voice taking a different tone than normal.
Stella nodded, but realized he probably couldn’t see her and said, “Yes.”
“Can you bring back the dead?” His question had completely thrown Stella off. She had not expected this.
“Why?” was the only thing Stella could get out.
“A few years ago, my brother was in our army,” he said, ears tilting back. “He was walking by a human village much like we were today, but they were caught. It happens a mage lived with these people and managed to fight them off. The entire unit fled, but not before my brother was killed.”
“Then why don’t you hate me?” Stella asked, trying to throw him off the original question.
“I don't hate you. I hate what your kind did to him, but I can’t help but feel that mine is also to blame.” Stella could see the moonlight reflect off his amber eyes and saw all the hurt and worry in them, and how they asked her for help. “So, is it possible to bring back the dead?”
Stella bit her lip in thought for moment, wondering whether to answer or not. “It’s not something we’re taught,” she began choosing her words carefully. “It’s considered a foul crime, and many people are executed for it. All I know is that a mage has the ability to reanimate a body, but all it is is a walking shell, something with no spirit. As far as I know, it’s impossible to bring a spirit back from the afterlife, even for a High Mage like me.”
“You should get some sleep then,” Watcher said no emotion in his voice. “We’re going to begin our march early.”
As Watcher promised, the march began early. Though she didn’t know Watcher for very long, Stella knew that the answer she had given him last night bothered him. The few times he would look at her, she could see in his eyes that whatever hope he had before he asked the question was gone. The entire day passed without him saying a word, and
Stella did not push him into conversation.
They traveled far, always within sight of the end of the forest, passing several villages along the way. Like the one the day before none seemed to notice the presence of the enemy walking so close by. Stella also noted the lack of young men in all the villages. She knew that the war required them to serve, but she had never grown up in a small village, so the lack of any who weren’t either too young to serve or too old to be any use in the army, surprised her.
As they passed the fifth village of the day, Stella watched a woman, only a few years older than her, hanging clothes up on a line with a young boy clinging to her skirt, and another in the crook of her arms. She wondered how things would’ve turned out if she had decided to stay at home. What if she didn’t leave her family to join the army disguised as man? What if she had instead married the good man her parents had planned for her and then watched him sent off to war, while carrying his child so that his line could continue? What if she was that woman, everyday worrying that this might be the day she is brought the news of her husband’s death?
She shook her head, knowing it would do any good thinking about what might’ve been. Her mind was pulled out of her reverie by a sharp tug on the rope. She looked up to see Watcher staring at her curiously. She stared back, doing her best to keep her face blank. His ears swiveled forward and a curious gesture, but he didn’t say anything. He merely tugged on his end of the rope again, and they continued.
That night it got cold, colder than Stella was ever used to feeling living in the Southern region of Torsha. Her thin, mud splattered robes did nothing to ward of the cold, if anything, she felt as if it were helping it creep in. With no magic at all to keep her body warm, she huddled against a tree and shivered till sleep finally took her.
“No, no, no, Stella,” Master Daniel said as Stella exploded her tenth small Destra stone. He brushed the fragments into the bin, and set another one all the table. Thirteen-year-old Stella glared at the tiny blue stone which had been giving her problems the past few days. “Let’s try this again. Now repeat after me: My mind is empty.”
“My mind is empty,” Stella said sourly, still glaring at the blue stone.
“There is nothing in my mind except for my task.” Stella repeated him again with very little enthusiasm as she had several days ago. “My mind needs to be solely focused on this task, for if I do not, I will die.” When Stella finished the last line, Master Daniel nodded. “Keep repeating that and pour in as much magic you can, compressed into a point small enough to fit in the hollow.”
Stella sighed and stared hard at the stone. She said slowly the mantra her teacher had taught her while compressing all the energy she could in a point inside the stone. The Destra stone slowly began to fade from blue to red as more of her power was poured in. Soon it glowed with a light blood red, and then without warning it exploded. Stella screamed in shock, bracing herself, but she did not need to fear as the stone fragments hit an invisible shield and fell to the table.
“Better,” Master Daniel said. “I think that’s enough for today. I’ll have to go get more Destra stones if you keep this up girl,” he said with a trace of laughter in his voice. Stella only glared at him, not thinking it was fun. She crossed her arms and stormed out of the room, tears flowing out of her eyes.
Daniel walked out of the room after Stella, finding her sitting at his kitchen table. Her body shook in a sob as she cried. Her teacher walked up to her and lightly laid his hands on her shoulder.
“Stop your crying, girl,” he said softly.
“I’m never going to be good as the boys, aren’t I?” Stella sobbed. “I should just quit!”
“You quit and you’ll never forgive yourself,” Daniel said. “You may not be the most skilled student I have taught, but you show more potential than any of the others. You have more determination than anyone I have seen. You may never get as powerful as the rest of them, but I promised you that you’ll become more skilled than all of them.” Stella sniffled a little, and turned to look at her teacher. Her eyes were red and swollen, but they now shone with the fire that Daniel remembered when he started teaching her three years ago. “Go get cleaned up. I don’t want to send you home looking like that, and then I’ll get you something to eat on the way home. Ok?” Stella nodded and wiped her eyes on her sleeve, a smile now on her face.
Stella woke up several hours before dawn. She looked down and saw the Lycerian cloack cover her body, and she was shocked by how soft and warm it was. Over by another tree, not to far from her, Watcher lay curled up on the ground without his cloak, his furred chest rising up and down slowly in sleep. With sigh, Stella laid her head down and drifted back into sleep.
