Chapter Twenty Five

A candle. Lit after hours of suffering the horrors of that night, by some poor creature who simply couldn't bear the darkness any longer. The flame had only just been lit, the creature had only just stood up, only just set out. Where they were headed, no one will ever know. They hadn't made four steps before they were tackled to the ground and stabbed through the heart. The candle fell from the limp hand of the murdered directly into a patch of grass. After the long absence of rain, what happened next was inevitable.

The grass caught on fire so fast, the creature's killer hadn't even had the time to draw away from the scene. The light from the flames was just enough to illuminate the face of the murderer for the wolf ashy watching, crouched under a tree nearby.

Gwanwyn was so shocked, she stood without thinking. "Father?"

The stunned expression on the man's face mirrored hers.

He was middle-aged, with thick, greying brown hair that hung to the middle of his neck and looked rather like seaweed somehow. He had light brown almond eyes and a short, thick horseshoe mustache. He was rather hispid and lanky and wore the outfit of an Akeefa man rather than a warrior, despite his presence on the battlefield. But no doubt he was accompanying the Akeefa army, for he was armed.

"Gwanwyn." it came out in a barely audible whisper. He straightened up. The fire began to spread to other patches of grass and dead sticks and any other dry things that w0uld catch that hadn't been trampled and muddied and torn to shreds by the battle. The wolf ashy and her father paid no heed. But as the fire traveled into the field and caught to the grass, which promptly flared, shriveled, and crumpled to ashes, and out and around towards the forest, the others knew they could not just stand by and watch. Should they continue the fight? Put out the flames? Or escape? Their next course of action needed to be decided immediately. Of course, that must be left to the leaders.

But now the man was shuffling towards her, and Gwanwyn could hear him muttering. "Can it really be Gwawyn? After all these years?" and tears suddenly sprang to her eyes and she wanted to bound towards him like she used to whenever he would enter home after work. . . "Yes father, it's really me!" she cried, "is it really you?"

In reply, he stopped shuffling and suddenly shot his arm out with his palm facing towards her "stop."

Next to her, a bush went up in flames. Gwanwyn didn't move. "Father?" she asked quietly.

He was muttering again. Over the shouts of "retreat! Retreat to your side and get back to your commander!" and the people frantically trying to move to their sides, Gwanwyn could just barely make sounds of his muttering. "After all these years, after all these years. I raised you, I cared for you, I— after all these years." His head had been hanging, his hair had been swinging like seaweed, but then his head snapped up and Gwanwyn saw the wild look in his eyes as he suddenly shouted and the sounds of the frantic people in the background seemed to quiet. "You didn't obey me!"

Gwanwyn took a step back. "I— I'm, I'm. . ." she stuttered.

"You were supposed to obey me!"

"I. . ." she still didn't know what to say. She took another step back.

"So we had to run, I told you we would have to run!"

"Yes. . . you told me we would have to run. . ."

"But only if they found out! So they found out! So we had to run, just like I said!"

"Just like you said. . ."

"Then you left me behind." His voice was suddenly quiet again. But the loud sounds of the people around were gone. All they could hear in the sudden silence was the crackling of the flame as it engulfed more of the forest. This time it was he who took a step back.

Gwanwyn was frozen now. She said nothing. Now she could feel the heat of the fire, but she couldn't make herself move.

"You left me behind to the mercy of the merciless people. After all I'd done for you."

"I— I'm sorry," said Gwanwyn meekly. She didn't know what to do. . .

His expression hardened. "Your words are empty! And it's too late now anyway! We cannot reverse the past!"

"No. . ."

"You don't know what you left me to! I nearly died at the hands of those barbaric people! You don't know, you don't know, you don't know. . ."

He seemed to be muttering again. Gwanwyn stood helplessly. The fire had burned the bushes near her to the ground and had moved on to the rest of the forest, leaving only piles of ash.

"I ran to the Akeefa then. And they took me in. . ."

"Oh. . ."

"I've been busy since then. They've been training me. . .but every night is the same."

"I— what do you mean?"

"The same things go through my head every night. I've run through that day so many times. Hundreds of times I've lived that day when you left me behind."

Now, if anyone had been making any kinds of sounds, she would not have been able to hear him. But everyone had become so quiet. Gwanwyn didn't look to where the people were. She looked only at her father.

"I can't forgive you."

And now suddenly she realized she had to run, somewhere anywhere, because he was withdrawing the knife from the body of the creature who had lit the candle, a throwing knife. But the fire was raging high in a half-circle on one side of her, and on the other side were the people, who were now suddenly moving again, the crowds pushing each other to get to their sides in the dark, recognizing someone of the other side, stabbing, falling, jumping on top of and avenging, pushing more, skirting around the patches of fire. . .Gwanwyn ran in the direction of the people, where was she going? But she wasn't quite out of the forest yet, and a tree suddenly fell right where she was running, a flaming tree, and she was trapped by the fire. She blinked furiously, then covered her face, trying to shield herself from the smoke. Batting away at the stinging fumes like mad, dancing around, ducking and jumping, what was she doing? She stopped moving then, choking on the smoke. The knife was aimed at her. She didn't notice. The world seemed to be turning around her. Where was up and where was down? She wasn't frantic any longer. But she seemed to be falling. . .

Alistair bounded over the flames right before she fell over, Arin on his back, her arms outstretched, reaching out for the ashy, "get on, Gwanwyn, get on Alistair!" And Arin was grabbing her arm, yanking her into her senses, and Gwanwyn was clambering on to the wolf, trying to shake the smoke from her mind, and her father was at the other end, letting the knife fly from his fingers—

Alistair took off out of the clearing as soon as the two girls were on his back, but not soon enough.

The wolf felt the lighter weight leave his back as he was leaping over the tree.

Arin fell backward into the flames, Stewart's knife in her arm. The knife intended for his daughter.

As soon as Alistair hit the ground, he twisted around, looking for Arin, but of course, she was gone.

Gwanwyn knew it too. She leaped off him and began to run back to the flaming tree on the ground, she had to find Arin, oh, of course she had too!

But suddenly Istelle was there, Istelle looking whiter than ever, she had seen it all, but she knew Arin was gone, she knew she couldn't be saved, she knew what Gwanwyn, in her frenzied state, couldn't know, she knew Arin couldn't be saved.

So she grabbed the wolf ashy and pulled her back, pulled her friend away, while Gwanwyn thrashed and yelled for Arin—

Alistair leaped for Stewart.

Back in the direction, he had come from, around the log, leaping towards the man who was drawing a dagger from his belt, because the wolf knew there was nothing else he could do. This man had attempted to kill his own daughter, thrown a knife at the young woman who had cared for Alistair for years, and hit instead, the girl who was all the joy of Alistair's life, the child who he���d protected and cared for and played with and loved with all his heart, the little girl for whom he lived.

Gwanwyn shrieked and fought Istelle with all the might she had left, but Istelle was stronger, and soon the poor wolf ashy was far away at the other end of the field and a bit into the forest, with Istelle pinning her to a tree. But then Istelle realized there was no need to pin her, she was done fighting. Gwanwyn's legs became weak and she broke down, dissolving into tears, laying there crumpled at the bottom of the tree, surrounded by a black cloud of pain that had begun to move towards her as she'd watched Arin fall from Alistair's back into the fire, had come closer as she'd reached for the girl, and as she missed and the wolf had landed on the ground, the cloud had completely enveloped her and now she was lost in the storm. Istelle wanted ever so much to help Gwanwyn, but what could she do? She was needed as a leader on the field, and as long as no one went hunting for the ashy, she knew Gwanwyn was safe here. The fire had moved on to other parts of the forest, and the sun was rising. She ran to the medical station to alert the fairies of Gwanwyn's location, then charged back into the heat of the war.

Gwanwyn stayed there on the ground for what felt like days. But she knew it couldn't really be so long. After a little, she stirred, then sat up. The sun had risen. She could see the fire burning the forest in the distance, leaving everything behind it a black desert. A black desert. Everything was dead. Arin was dead.

Gwanwyn fell over again.

Who knows how long this might have continued if a group of fairies hadn't come for her then, coaxing to her feet, leading her to the medical station where they laid her down among the other patients. They gave her some water and left her alone. So she laid there, lost in her own mind, still wrapped in the cloud of grief. But now she felt other thoughts and emotions moving in, of her father, of Alistair, of Istelle.

Eventually, she couldn't stand it any longer.

She stood up, accepted the water and a bit of food, then got ready to re-enter the battlefield. There was really nothing else to do.

But she started by going around the field through the forest, sneaking, avoiding attention, all the way around to where it had all happened.

And when she saw, she wished she hadn't.

She felt as if her heart had been attacked by a beast, ripping pieces of her out. It started with Arin of course. But now she looked over and felt it again, rippp, there was what was left of her father, a bloody mess on the ground. And there, over to the right, she looked and felt it stronger, ripppp, she ran to where Istelle and several strong-looking men and women were dragging Alistair off the field.

Gwanwyn's heart dropped and she ran to them. When she reached them, one of the women was turning around and running in the direction of the medical station, but the look on Istelle's face told Gwanwyn they would be of no use. It was too late.

She dropped to her knees as they set Alistair as gently as they could on the ground. Istelle motioned for them to back away, to leave them alone.

Because there wasn't all that much time left. And she knew the most she could do for Alistair was give him some privacy with the only one he had left.