Young Writers Society

Riss shifted her gaze between him and the pile, a slight nervous chuckle spilling out of her. It was a good question. “Well,” she started, thinking aloud, “it could be bad if the wrong person or something were to stumble across them. It could lead them back to me.” She didn’t know if that’s how that worked, but it made sense in her head.

A light breeze tugged at the pile, pulling a few off the top so they could be swallowed by the vast forest around them. She tried to grab them out of the air, but her sudden movement sent another puff of feathers up into the air. Letting out a defeated sigh, she watched some of them go.

She decided to add in a quiet voice, “And they remind me of home.”

Alistair wasn't exactly sure what to make of Riss's response, but he did sympathize. He figured the feathers had something to do with her power, but he wasn't particularly interested in what that may be. It wasn't any of his business, and he didn't quite want to get involved in it since it may have had something to do with losing the guards. Better he didn't know.

He did empathize when she said it reminded her of home, though. He could see how it would be hard to let something like that go, even though he also didn't understand the connection on how exactly feathers could mean home. What, did she identify as a bird? There was bound to be an answer less bizarre than that.

"Okay," he said softly, not letting the feather he was holding get carried away by the breeze. He dropped it in his bag and scooped up any around him before standing back up and walking over to her, only being close enough to hand her the bag.

"Here," he said, offering it to her after fishing out his map. "As long as it fits, take as many as you want. I can help figure out how to get you home, then."

He quickly thought through the plan. He may be back home a few hours late, but that was okay. He could deal with the consequences later; it was bound to be less severe than choosing to ignore someone who got lost while traveling to the sectors. That was probably a crime, right? He couldn't remember. This was hurting his head. Best to just get this over with as quickly as possible.

After handing the bag over, he opened the wrinkled map and stared at it. If Riss took a peek, she'd notice that it was hand-drawn with markers to indicate various towns and terrain.

"Do you remember where you were supposed to go? Maybe a name? Or maybe the people you were with talked about a landmark? Anything?" he asked, still staring at the map. She had to have remembered something to help him with this.

Riss gladly accepted the bag, offering him a slight smile of appreciation, but he seemed to be too lost in thought to notice. She was shocked at how nonchalant he was about her request. Was this a normal thing that humans did? Or was it within the realm of odd behavior that humans came to expect? Either way, she let out a sigh of relief that she wouldn’t have to explain any further.

She spent a few moments collecting feathers by the handful and stuffing them into the bag, even deciding to empty them from her pockets so they wouldn’t bulge out so conspicuously. When she stumbled upon the two black ones, she paused and looked at them for a moment. While the other feathers were still fading, making even the purest of white feathers turn into varying shades of gray, none were even close to as midnight black as these two were. She ultimately decided to stick them in her back pocket to be more secure.

It quickly became apparent, however, that they would not all fit. There were still several handfuls at her feet, along with the variety of stragglers strewn around this small space. Time for another plan, then.

As she stood up with the last big clump in her hands, Alistair asked her about what she remembered. So, she answered, “No, I wasn’t told anything. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.” All of this was true, at least.

While he thought a bit more, she turned her back to him and walked over to a set of bushes. If she couldn’t take them all with her, the best thing to do then would be to hide the rest, right? That couldn’t too illogical a thought. Riss nodded to herself as she stuck her arms in the bush and shoved the feathers inside in a way that they’d get caught on the branches.

Then, she stepped back to admire her handiwork. From her angle, she could discern some flecks of the flittering feathers, but she hoped it was only because she was looking for it. Maybe the shadows would do well to hide them for someone who didn’t know what they should see.

She turned back around and asked, “What about where you’re from? Could they help?”

Alistair stared at the map, thinking some more. Riss didn't know where she was supposed to go, which was a little odd, but this whole situation was odd, so he wasn't surprised. They were closer to Sector 1 than Sector 2, but since she had no idea where she was supposed to go anyways, he might as well take her along when he had to return to Sector 2. If they left now, he'd be able to get there with two hours to spare. Might as well use that time now, then head back.

He looked off to see what she was doing and noticed that the bag was packed full of feathers, and she seemed to be putting the remaining feathers in a bush. Was this... ritual? Was she hiding it? Something for other birds to find, maybe? He honestly had no idea, and once again, did not want to ask.

Then she turned around and asked him where he was from.

Alistair paused and looked away, carefully folding the map back up and adding an additional crease so it would fit in his pant pocket. Not like there was enough room for it in the bag now.

"Sector 2," he repeated, tempted to tell her that he already told her this, but her concussion didn't seem to help her remember what a sector even was. He made a mental note to make sure to tell the guards at Sector 2 to take her to a hospital so she could get checked out.

"Since you don't remember where you're supposed to go, I'll take you to my hometown. Sector 2. The guards there should get you checked in and they'll figure out where you need to go."

He looked back up at the sky, noting the warm sun still shining high above them.

"We have some time, though. I have to make a few more sampling observations. You can tag along with me, and when I'm done, you can follow me to Sector 2. Sound good?"

Was it just her, or had he repeated Sector 2 several times? Like her attention was fleeting and he had to reinforce their goal in her mind? Of course, she remembered that he’d said he was from Sector 2, but she’d asked so she might suggest where to go, since she knew exactly nothing about this layout of this forest. Ultimately, it seemed that they were at least on the same page. Instead of accosting him about it, she simply nodded, and offered him the bag back.

He might need it for those samples, she reasoned.

Indirectly, though, he’d answered her question about the Sectors. It seemed like they were places where humans lived, maybe like names for towns or cities. He hadn’t given much indication about the size of these sectors and whether they were numerous or few and far between. The more she thought about it, she didn’t know what outcome she would have liked better. A small town meant she would stick out like a sore thumb, but it would be filled with people Alistair knew well and so Riss might be able to trust. However, a big city could help her remain under the radar, even if she would be exposed to more people.

She had to wait and see. Maybe, in the meantime, she could try to pry some more information from Alistair about this human would without coming off as too suspicious. As they prepared to plunge into the forest once more, Riss asked, “So what exactly are you sampling out here?” She hadn’t seen any wildlife yet, and they’d been here for several minutes.

Alisair stared at the bag when Riss offered it back to her. So, she ended up lost in the forest, somehow surrounded herself with important feathers, accepted his offer of help, smooshed a bunch of feathers in his bag to the point where it was overfilling, then expected him to carry it for her?

... Well. He did need to access his journal and samples at some point.

He inwardly sighed and took the bag, slinging it back across his body. Luckily, feathers didn't weigh much, so he didn't bother bringing this up.

"Come along, then," he said, heading back in the direction he came from.

He didn't mind sitting in a comfortable silence, but Riss wanted to chat. She asked what exactly he was sampling, which was a valid question, even without her concussion. Even when the redacted information became public information after the war, it still wasn't common knowledge to know what exactly was happening now outside the sectors. He was lucky he even had this opportunity.

"Animals, mostly, of course," he said, pushing away a long and skinny tree branch that got in their way. He waited for Riss to walk under it before he let go.

"There's still a lot we don't know about their mutations. Everyone now knows about neanders and the myths surrounding them, but that doesn't mean there aren't others like them. It takes time to find these things out."

Riss stifled a sigh. There were a lot of things she didn’t understand from Alistair’s answer, illustrating just how little she knew about the human world. Mutations implied that animals were once something, but suddenly changed into something else. What caused these mutations? Was it from the humans or something else?

Those felt like stupid questions to ask.

But the even stupider (but certainly louder) question seemed to be What is a neader? Or, what is a neader supposed to be? He talked about it like it was common knowledge, but he mentioned myths surrounding, so it may not even exist. So, was she supposed to pretend like she knew what it was or had no experience with it? This was already getting quite confusing.

Well, she had to ask something. Her curiosity always got the better of her.

“There could be more neaders?” she asked, cautiously. It was difficult to read his face as she followed behind him. “What would that even be like?”

It was a fair question. Most people knew about the neanders, but not personally. Excluding their appearance, there were still a lot of misconceptions about them.

"I'd like to know that too," Alistair said in a wistful voice, looking ahead. "A lot of them perished from the war. I'd love to study them up close, but... I'm not sure if there are any around here. All tribes near the sectors were wiped out."

Riss pursed her lips in a fine line again. Even if she still knew nothing about the neaders, (and she now assumed they were a type of animal), the story tugged gently at her heartstrings. She knew very little about what humans called war, but everything she did know was shrouded in tragedy. It seemed most of these neaders were a casualty in that, too.

“Do you think if you went far enough you would find them, again?” Riss asked, searching for the sliver of hope in the dire situation he had painted. She paused as she left the question drift over the space between them.

Another one popped in her brain, which she quickly asked. “And if you could find them, would you?”

Alistair listened to Riss's questions, eyes looking ahead at the path ahead of them. It was a little narrow, but they could fit. He just had to make sure there weren't any branches in the way so that she wouldn't hit her head again.

He thought about her questions. His heart sank a little, but it wasn't her fault. She didn't know.

"Maybe," he said, voice monotone. "If I even know where to look."

The words escaped his lips, leaving behind a sour taste.

Alistair kept reminding himself that it was best to not get involved.

"Watch your head," he said, pointing at a branch that was fixed in place. He ducked under it and decided to swat the previous thoughts away.

"But enough about neanders. Where are you from?" he asked.

Riss successfully ducked under the branch, but she wasn’t sure why Alistair was so concerned about her head. She was able to see it as they approached it. Perhaps he was just overly cautious.

Now that she thought about it, it made sense to be cautious here. The path was dark from the shade of the leaves, and Riss couldn’t see past the overgrowth. Alistair had mentioned that there were animals lurking. She still hadn’t seen anything, not that she would be able to. That was worth being cautious over.

Riss didn’t notice the abruptness in the subject change, but there likely wasn’t much else she would be getting out of it, so she went with it. “Where I’m from?” she echoed. She still wasn’t sure how to answer that. Her fingers played with the feathers still in her pocket.

Alistair didn’t seem so bad, though. Maybe he wouldn’t take it too badly?

“It’s hard to explain,” she began. “It has to be so far away, but it felt like hardly any time at all to get here.” She laughed in order to drive away the pang of sadness. “And then like that I was lost. And you found me.”

She wasn’t sure what else she should say. The sectors were still just an abstract idea in her mind, like they didn’t really exist until she saw them with her own eyes. Would they look anything like Heaven? Would she be welcome there, at last? Or would she be just as much an outcast?

Her steps felt heavy as she trudged forward.

Alistair narrowed his eyes ahead at the winding path, not necessarily because he was suspicious of Riss—although, he still was—but because the path was getting eerily quiet. The birds seemed to chirp less, and he heard less scurries from the usual forest creatures.

He reached in his pocket, fingering the smooth surfaces of stones safely sitting there. He'd have to be wary. The forests could have some dangerous creatures, and he had no idea how well Riss could defend herself.

Speaking of which...

Alistair thought about her words. She seemed to be insinuating that she practically appeared out of thin air. Maybe she was skirting around her power. Maybe she didn't want to say. Maybe... she could teleport? Maybe she wasn't able to control it, which would explain her being lost. Alistair hadn't heard of teleportation being possible outside of the quantum scale, but he never asked around to verify this.

He hummed over this thought, curious, but also not wanting to pry too much, just in case. One thought kept gnawing at him, though.

"Do the feathers have anything to do with that?" he asked.

Riss really should have been expecting that question. He couldn’t have not noticed the strangeness of the whole situation, and her initial responses probably didn’t help. How was she supposed to explain that without coming clean?

“The feathers are related,” she offered, her voice wavering as her thoughts struggled and failed to come up with an explanation. After a second or two, she qualified the statement. “But not in the way you might think.”

Her cheeks burned. This would spark further questions, she knew. But she didn’t know a discrete way to explain that the feathers were the remnants of her wings. Not in a way that would make sense why she insisted on keeping them, because she still didn’t know.

Well now, Alistair was narrowing his eyes ahead because of Riss. She was being awfully vague and cryptic.

He paused for a few seconds to figure out the best way to respond to this. He was glad that she couldn't see his unamused face.

"Does it have something to do with your power?" he finally asked, figuring a yes or no would be good enough.

Power? Did humans have magic, too? Riss’s heart sank.

Her thoughts fought to catch up as she brushed a rogue branch away from her leg. Maybe she was misinterpreting. Maybe humans knew about magic but didn’t have it themselves. Or maybe, it was worse than she thought. Maybe Alistair already knew but was waiting for the right moment to strike the question.

Afterall, just having wings could be considered magic in this world. And if he saw what happened… Oh no. Had he been standing in the woods the whole time, watching the spectacle?

Her heart banged against her chest as blood rushed through her ears. Maybe she was wrong to trust him. Her face flushed as she abruptly stopped in her tracks, her voice hardly above a whisper as she asked, “Did you see?” Do you know what I am?