21

With the eyes of a disapproving sister of the past, she walks up to him and grants the hug of a desperate, long lost beloved one. She stretches, reaching his forehead to give a short kiss.

"Stay alive, old friend."

"We'll have it out when I'm better, old buddy," my father butted in.

There was one more laugh. "We shall. The bulè is on me."

Meanwhile, the younger ones stare, unable to open their mouths. I worried just as my mother did. I could've told from the others' faces that they were too, distressed. Had I the power, the old man would leave in my stead, and none would go wrong.

Had I the power.

"Go. Now," He ordered.

Slowly, mother walked backwards, eventually turning towards us, holding both of our hands. Sang, fully controlling her power, jumped, landing on the newly formed wave of watery ice beneath. We climbed onto it, holding tight onto anything that would support our balance, and in no time, we set off.