Firefly.

**CLICK-CLACK. CLICK-CLACK.**

The cart's wooden wheels chatter against the uneven road.

**BUMP! BUMP!**

My head knocks against the cart's side as we hit another rut. Then—

**BOOM!**

A final, bone-jarring jolt sends me lurching upright, heart hammering. Sunlight stabs through the canvas flaps—it's already midday, the shadows short and sharp beneath the wagon wheels.

*Damn I overslept.*

I stretch against the cart's wooden slats, expecting the chorus of aches from yesterday's overexertion... but nothing comes. My body feels surprisingly light, joints moving smoothly despite how I'd barely been able to walk last night. Somewhere up front, I hear Julianne curse at the stubborn mules.

I chuckle to myself before my stomach growls loudly. Scanning the cart, I hope to find some leftover food from Aiden or Julianne, but only see crates, a thin bedding pad, and that familiar wooden splinter.

The splinter reminds me - I missed Julianne and Aiden's morning sword match. A groan escapes me as disappointment settles in.

Snatching up the splinter, I give it a couple **playful SWOOSHES** through the air. My arms move with an ease they shouldn't have after yesterday's strain. Boredom takes over as I start imitating Julianne's sword teachings again: *Move like the wind—fluid and purposeful.* Though my technique is still a clumsy excuse compared to hers, I feel myself getting slightly better as that familiar warmth and satisfaction takes over with each motion.

**"AARON!"**

Julianne's voice booms, breaking my trance. My blood runs cold as I slowly turn to see her standing there, arms crossed.

*"What did I say about taking it easy? Look at yourself - you're a complete mess!"*

I glance down at my sweat-soaked, dirt-streaked clothes, chest still heaving. *"S-sorry Julianne!"* I gasp between labored breaths. *"I was just... playing around with the sword a little—"*

Her eyebrow twitches dangerously. *"You want to LIE to me? GET OVER HERE NOW!"*

I leap from the cart—

**SPLAT!**

Face-first into a mud puddle. Cold sludge oozes into my clothes.

Julianne's anger shatters into roaring laughter. She doubles over, clutching her stomach, boots kicking at the dirt. Even Aiden appears, chuckling behind his hand.

Humiliated, I peel myself from the muck. *"Is there...a river nearby?"*

*"Yeah,"* Aiden wheezes, wiping his eyes. *"C'mon kid, let's get you cleaned up."*

The river's chill bites my skin as I scrub my ragged clothes against the rocks. After thorough washing:

*"Okay Aiden, I'm ready."*

As we return, a bell rings—

**BING! BING! BING!**

The gruff merchant captain shouts: *"Listen up! We will reach Galespire by tomorrow's end! You all better not slack off or everyone will have hell to play.

"Well kid, got to get to work. See you later," Aiden says, already walking backward toward the merchant wagons.

"Okay, bye Aiden," I call, climbing back into the cart. The splinter lies where I'd dropped it, almost taunting me. My fingers twitch with restless energy.

A quick scan confirms neither Julianne nor Aiden are watching. The splinter finds my hand almost on its own. I start imitating Julianne's sword, soon, I'm lost in the rhythm again—each swing sending a jolt of energy up my arms. The splinter whistles through the air, and with every arc, that same refreshing satisfaction blooms in my chest, pushing back the fatigue. Sweat pours down my temples, my muscles burn, but it's a clean fire—one that makes me feel alive.

**THUD!**

The entire cart shudders. Golden sunset light frames Julianne in the entrance, her shadow stretching long across the floorboards. Her foot taps an impatient rhythm against the wood.

I scramble backward into the crates. "S-s-sorry!" is all I manage, the words tripping over each other.

Julianne exhales through her nose. One long stride brings her within reach. **Flick!** Her finger snaps against my forehead with practiced precision.

"Ow!"

"That's for ignoring me," she says, though the edge has left her voice. She straightens, offering a hand. "Now come on. Food's getting cold."

I rub my throbbing forehead but take her hand. "Okay..."

Firelight dances across grinning faces as the expedition crew celebrates our final night on the road. Aiden and Julianne pass a wineskin between them, their drunken bickering rising above the laughter and clinking cups. I sit cross-legged in the dirt, strangely comforted by the chaos—this loud, messy family I've somehow become part of.

Julianne lurches toward me, her face flushed crimson. **"HIC-CUP!"** The sour stench of cheap ale rolls off her as she collapses onto the log beside me, nearly missing the seat entirely.

**"HEY SQUIRT!"** she bellows, slinging a heavy arm around my shoulders. **"You really—hic!—like that stupid stick of yours, huh?"** Her breath could knock out a horse. **"Know what? There's a whole fancy school—hic!—that teaches brats like you to wave swords around!"**

My head snaps up curiously. **"Really?"**

**"Hic! Yep, the brats there become the best in the world!"** She jabs a wobbly finger at the stars. **"Their graduates—hic!—fight dragons 'n shit!"**

Aiden snatches the wineskin from her. **"Stop filling his head with nonsense, Jules. That academy only takes noble kids."**

**"What's a—?"**

**"Gods above we should get you a book."** Aiden rubs his temples. **"Nobles rule the cities as an extension of the king. Like the Whitakers who own Galespire."**

Julianne leans in conspiratorially. **"They're all inbred pricks—hic!—who think commoners smell like pigshit."**

Aiden hauls her upright. **"Bed. Now. Before you start crying about your ex again."** He nods at me. **"You too, kid. Big day tomorrow."**

As I crawl into the cart, Julianne's slurred words echo in my mind. *A school for swords...* The thought lingers as sleep pulls me under.