She knew it, her grandma was gone, and yet she couldn’t process this fact. All she knew was that she was alone now, she had no one. The painful hopelessness rose from her chest and lodged itself in her throat, she couldn’t breathe. The battle kept raging on behind her and she stood unmoved, staring at her grandma’s usually vivid and shining eyes, lifeless. A loud crash sounded nearby, the catapults, the empire. It was their fault. The feeling of utter rage crashed upon her, her chest was burning. She was not a fighter, but she had nothing to lose now, she just wanted them gone. The remaining tears on her cheeks sizzled and evaporated as she made her way to the chaos of fighting her skin getting exponentially hotter. Her restraint was gone, her hands boiled becoming red, the burning mass falling on the grass below. She ran, as she gained speed her elbows and shoulders engorged and became molten, lava was dripping from her. She was bursting with power and exhilaration by the time she arrived at the battlefield. The magma had completely enveloped her and grew, bubbling as she became larger than the catapults from the army she so despised. A raised fist, clenched with anger descended upon the large projectile launcher and crushed it, leaving in its place a pile of molten rock. She destroyed all of them, she had to, she needed to, so they could never hurt the ones she loved again.
When she woke up, she saw clear evidence of a fire that had destroyed an incredibly large area of the Northern Woods. All was black, clear of trees or any life. The dark piles scattered around the blackened clearing still fumed, she could feel their heat even while standing several meters away. On the ground, surrounding her, she could see thousands of bodies, some charred so intensely all was left was the black bones that poked out of the ashes. The others, with gruesome wounds, covered in blood, their faces so still she could swear some of them to be asleep, but she knew undoubtedly, all of them were twisted in pain or aghast with horror as they fell, taking their last breaths. She bent over and heaved, not much was in her stomach, and her disgust was less directed at the scene and more directed at herself. She had caused this, she burned them all, in her anger, she lost control. She destroyed the forest she so deeply cared for and tried to protect. She had lost everything, the loss and hopelessness overcame her and in her panic, she was hoping to be punished for what she had done. Her thoughts were a chaotic mess, she could not grasp a single one, she was lost and didn’t know what to do. She knelt, her vision blurred and her head felt light, she was going to pass out. As she lifted her hand to steady herself on the dirt she saw it, there on her right arm, the still pinkish scar. She remembered the failed hunt, the fall, the pain. Suddenly she saw Eliza, treating her wounds with Victor sitting right next to her, cracking jokes to annoy her while she worked, Spot resting gently on his feet. She remembered them, the tent flapping open to show a very hunched very worried Bast, carrying warm soup for all of us, and later, Ollie, arriving from the long meeting for new strategies, he barely managed a word before he fell asleep. She had them, those recent strangers that did not hesitate to help, who genuinely cared for her. She wanted that, she wanted to see them, to hear their stories, their problems, and worries every day. She stood up, looked at the empty land around her and walked home.
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