wouldn’t have recognized Ashling’s own special qualities.
But even so, he didn’t yet know what she was at her core; what creature she would transform into. And if she didn’t either, it was no surprise that she was confused, frightened. She couldn’t see her own potential, her own beauty. Not as Hawke did. She had no idea how admired she was, how drawn to her he’d always been.
When he’d seen her that first day back in Woodland Creek, he’d found himself circling in the air above her, his eyes fixed on the girl of fire whose hair shone reddish in the sunlight. She was an adult now, and yet still had that look about her of a girl, lost, but enthralled by the sky and the trees. Somehow in the setting of nature she seemed confident; perhaps it was that nature didn’t make her feel as though she were being scrutinized for the way she was.
But it was time now for Hawke to help her. To show her what he was, and that she had nothing to fear from him. That he could help her escape her past woes. He was her ally.
And so, leaving his clothing concealed within the folds of a tree’s roots, he took off into the air once more, counting on his eagle’s eyes to find the woman who’d come to dominate his thoughts.
12
T he fire was warm and reassuring, like an old friend who’d come to curl up at Ashling’s feet.
The vastness of the wild was the only place where she welcomed flames, and even then it was only rarely that she did so. These were her allies, these dancing orange shapes, and she’d summoned them with nothing more than her own thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, this — this strange magic of hers. But Ranach had told her there would be more surprises to come, and she felt at times like a child anticipating Christmas. Only she didn’t know what sorts of gifts it would bring; it could be that she would receive a teddy bear or a pile of flaming charcoal. And that was the scary thing.
She knew that after the attack by the water, it was probably a bad idea to run off alone. But this was what her assailant had wanted, wasn’t it? To have her leave, to cease existing, at least in Woodland Creek. All her life she’d felt expelled from society, so maybe it was time that she do it herself.
Inside her, emotions were churning: sadness, loss, confusion. She looked for happiness but her search came up short. Each time she came close, it was only Hawke that brought her there — Hawke, whom she would lose soon, if she hadn’t already done so by leaving without a word. Maybe it would be better for him to hate her. To think she was inconsiderate, fickle. She couldn’t explain to him what she was; after all, even she didn’t know.
Night descended from above as the glow of the fire illuminated the tree trunks in the distance, its reflection bouncing off the stone walls around her. Here was another of those moments that she would have loved to share with someone. No, not someone — with him. With Hawke. He would, no doubt, love to sit under the cover of trees, the cool breeze wafting by as it tried to take the fire along with it. But each time a spark threatened to move through the air towards a nearby leaf or twig, Ashling directed it back to its home in the fire itself with the flick of a finger.
Never in her life had she taken this odd power for granted. Rather, she’d always wished it far, far away, gone forever to leave her in peace to a normal life. But in moments like this she wondered what potential lay beyond, if she could manipulate flames. Would she become like one of those fictional heroes she’d seen in comic books, throwing fireballs like a mage?
It was no wonder people seemed to want her dead.
The sounds of crackling from the fire seemed for a moment to grow, and this time it wasn’t her doing. But no, it wasn’t the fire that made the sound. Somewhere behind her, twigs were snapping underfoot.
Ashling rose, looking about at the shapes moving against the distant bark and brick. She listened
But even so, he didn’t yet know what she was at her core; what creature she would transform into. And if she didn’t either, it was no surprise that she was confused, frightened. She couldn’t see her own potential, her own beauty. Not as Hawke did. She had no idea how admired she was, how drawn to her he’d always been.
When he’d seen her that first day back in Woodland Creek, he’d found himself circling in the air above her, his eyes fixed on the girl of fire whose hair shone reddish in the sunlight. She was an adult now, and yet still had that look about her of a girl, lost, but enthralled by the sky and the trees. Somehow in the setting of nature she seemed confident; perhaps it was that nature didn’t make her feel as though she were being scrutinized for the way she was.
But it was time now for Hawke to help her. To show her what he was, and that she had nothing to fear from him. That he could help her escape her past woes. He was her ally.
And so, leaving his clothing concealed within the folds of a tree’s roots, he took off into the air once more, counting on his eagle’s eyes to find the woman who’d come to dominate his thoughts.
12
T he fire was warm and reassuring, like an old friend who’d come to curl up at Ashling’s feet.
The vastness of the wild was the only place where she welcomed flames, and even then it was only rarely that she did so. These were her allies, these dancing orange shapes, and she’d summoned them with nothing more than her own thoughts. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, this — this strange magic of hers. But Ranach had told her there would be more surprises to come, and she felt at times like a child anticipating Christmas. Only she didn’t know what sorts of gifts it would bring; it could be that she would receive a teddy bear or a pile of flaming charcoal. And that was the scary thing.
She knew that after the attack by the water, it was probably a bad idea to run off alone. But this was what her assailant had wanted, wasn’t it? To have her leave, to cease existing, at least in Woodland Creek. All her life she’d felt expelled from society, so maybe it was time that she do it herself.
Inside her, emotions were churning: sadness, loss, confusion. She looked for happiness but her search came up short. Each time she came close, it was only Hawke that brought her there — Hawke, whom she would lose soon, if she hadn’t already done so by leaving without a word. Maybe it would be better for him to hate her. To think she was inconsiderate, fickle. She couldn’t explain to him what she was; after all, even she didn’t know.
Night descended from above as the glow of the fire illuminated the tree trunks in the distance, its reflection bouncing off the stone walls around her. Here was another of those moments that she would have loved to share with someone. No, not someone — with him. With Hawke. He would, no doubt, love to sit under the cover of trees, the cool breeze wafting by as it tried to take the fire along with it. But each time a spark threatened to move through the air towards a nearby leaf or twig, Ashling directed it back to its home in the fire itself with the flick of a finger.
Never in her life had she taken this odd power for granted. Rather, she’d always wished it far, far away, gone forever to leave her in peace to a normal life. But in moments like this she wondered what potential lay beyond, if she could manipulate flames. Would she become like one of those fictional heroes she’d seen in comic books, throwing fireballs like a mage?
It was no wonder people seemed to want her dead.
The sounds of crackling from the fire seemed for a moment to grow, and this time it wasn’t her doing. But no, it wasn’t the fire that made the sound. Somewhere behind her, twigs were snapping underfoot.
Ashling rose, looking about at the shapes moving against the distant bark and brick. She listened
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