Young Writers Society

"Eyes of ice brings souls of fire."

"Who are you?"

"Who are you?"

Faihrah glared at the human boy. He was beginning to test her patience. He had come running to them, half-dead and hunted. Now he was playing with his words and just being rather ungrateful. He smelled strange too, of odd smoke and poisoned water and stone that wasn't stone. He also smelled of the thick healing paste under his bandages, which had been carefully applied by Aria. Aria seemed not to notice the fact that he wasn't a shifter and yet he still managed to get far into the forest. She had never really hated the humans, and although she was known and loved, she was completely unfathomable.

"I will ask you again, and you will answer. Do you understand?"

The boy simply stared at her with big, moss-green eyes. As he spoke, his voice shook. "Fine."

Faihrah lifted her chin, mouth set in a thin line. "Who are you? How did you get here?"

"I'm Aleksandar, and I ran."

Faihrah pressed her head into her palm. Could this boy be any less cooperative?

"How did you get past-"

"Need any assistance?"

Tiru walked into the medicine tent, carrying bandages, a bundle of flat salmon and juniper berry cakes, and a fur cloak. Faihrah raised an eyebrow at him as he set the items down on the half-log table inside the tent. "No, we're fine," she replied, wondering if this was his idea or Aria's. She decided it was probably the latter.

"You look stressed," Tiru stated.

"I'm not stressed."

Aleksandar smirked, crossing his legs and clearing his throat. He turned to Tiru. "She's stressed."

Tiru grinned at the brown-haired boy. "I like him. Can we keep him?"

Faihrah sighed, exasperated. This was one of the reasons she hated being a leader. So much responsibility had been thrown onto her shoulders barely after she turned seventeen summers. Most leaders were only chosen because of their heritage; there was more of a chance of the leader's offspring being the next leaders. They could also be voted if the leader's children were of the same age, or if they had none. Faihrah had only become leader of her clan through the death of her older sister, a memory that had faded with time and was now just that - a memory.

Tiru glanced at Aleksandar, his ice-blue eyes scanning the other boy. They found their way to his clothes. He seemed to be wearing a jerkin of very soft, very colourful material, and trousers that really needed repairing. "Although," Tiru began, "If we were to keep him, we might want to get rid of his clothes. They look rather abnormal." Aleksandar gave him a look that could have burned.

"We aren't keeping him," Faihrah said reproachfully. "We can't keep him. He's dangerous."

Tiru shook his head at her, a soft smile appearing on his face. He made his departure in silence.

"He likes you." Faihrah jumped at the voice and whipped her head around, scowling at Aleksandar. He looked overly pleased with himself. He stood up, moving over to the salmon cakes and beginning to help himself. His hands were shaking.

"Are you going out of your way to annoy me?"

Aleksandar's eyebrow shot up - just the one. "Yes."

Just as Faihrah was about to yell at him again, Aria burst into the tent, carrying a bowl. "Tiru brought the bandages through, didn't he?"

Faihrah nodded and Aria walked over to the table, setting the bowl down. Aleksandar watched as she replaced the bandages skillfully, no doubt for the twentieth time. "Do you people ever use aspirin, or plasters, or hospitals for that matter?"

"No," Faihrah spat. "We don't. Those are for ungrateful little humans and their big dung pile of a camp."

"I'm not little."

"I'm taller than you, human."

Aria looked up from her work, eyes ablaze. "Faihrah, I know you don't like him, but please try to use your manners!"

Faihrah's jaw visibly dropped, and she flung her arms into the air. "I give up. I give up!" She headed towards the slit in the tent, stopping to glare over her shoulder at the two of them. "He is going to get himself killed someday."

After leaving the tent, Faihrah had wandered into the forest. It was the most peaceful place she could think of and she was in desperate need of a wide open space and a few hours of pebble skimming. Almost instinctively, she headed towards the largest waterfall. It was actually a set of four waterfalls that had formed so close together that they blended with each other. They were considered a symbol of clan life; their bond had grown so close with time that they became one. Shapeshifters were usually slow to trust but any bond was a bond for life. It was like swearing an oath - bonds were rarely broken, only through death and exile.

Faihrah's mind wandered to the hazy memory of her sister as she listened to the cracking and creaking of the trees. She picked up a pebble at random and threw it into the turquoise pool, sending delicate ripples that didn't even compare to those the roaring waterfall could make. The spray was making her hair wave, but she didn't care. She didn't care about her sister, either. She had died when they were both so young that their bond wasn't even strong enough for Faihrah to feel sadness, though she felt like it was only natural that she did.

After a while of skimming pebbles and pacing along the river's bank, Faihrah turned to head home. She didn't need a map like most humans would. She used the sun and the singing trees and her own instincts to guide her. She wondered how humans managed to read those things. Faihrah had only seen a map once, from a distance, and it looked complicated. The human with it had almost entered the deeper forest, but turned back just as they were about to pass through the barrier. There was a barrier that, essentially, teleported the human through the camp to the other side, as if it wasn't there. However, some humans could get through, and that was when things got complicated.

As Faihrah continued through the forest, she heard a great snapping noise. At first it sounded like another falling tree - they weren't rare in thick forests - but much, much louder. It was far away, probably at the edge of the forest, but it still sounded unusually loud. Faihrah quickly shifted into a raven and took to the skies, heading towards the south-eastern edge of the forest. She could only see the roads leading off from the small human 'town', and something else. Something humanoid. Something dressed in black.

And it had a gun.