Asura’s memories tickled her brain as she vaguely recalled an incident happening on the last day of the festival. They had written an article about it- how the three boys were injured, along with seven others, and the swordsmaster that died protecting them. 

Her gaze flicked to Chrystoph, but he was already moving, parting the crowd with practiced ease. 

Asura followed with her mother in tow, running to keep up with him. She was worried about bringing her mother with her, but she could protect her better being right next to her instead of leaving her in the middle of the crowd to go after Chrystoph. 

Her hand reached for her sword at her waist, only to grasp at air. 

Old habits die hard. 

She cursed her small body once again, tugging Leila with her to get to the wagon. A plan was forming in her mind, although very skeletal. There were a lot of things a person would do to return a life debt. 

“Asura, where are we going? Did those boys cause trouble?” She pieced it out by the yelling growing closer. 

“I told you to stop! You’re not my mother!” The oldest, based on his voice, shouted above the crowd. Only a few people spared them a glance as they went about their day. No one knew of the disaster to come, not did they know of the contents of the carriage, as it was facing away from them. 

Where is the coachman?

The crowd parted at Asura’s insistence, moving around her like flowing water. She wasn’t sure if she was going the right direction, but her efforts were rewarded with the smell of cigarette smoke and a peek at the grains of wood that made up the wagon. 

Chrystoph was already talking to the young man with the cigarette, making sure that no one was hurt or fighting. 

With this back turned to the wagon, the young man flicked his cigarette in defiance, even with fearful tears brimming in his eyes. Asura was surprised he hadn’t begun to cry already with the imposing figure Chrystoph struck. 

Asura lept forward at once, letting go of her mother’s hand. 

“Wait here, Mother.” Hurriedly, she climbed up the wagon, and jumped inside, the trail of smoke an easy sign for her to track. The paper scraps had just barely caught fire, and she quickly stamped it out, red embers turning black. 

“What’s wrong?” Chrystoph took one look at the hazy wagon, the soot on Asura’s shoe and understood immediately. 

“Good job.” He grinned at her, offering her his hand. 

Shit!

She was good at jumping into action. But what she wasn’t good was scheming. She had ruined her own plan. 

Asura was about to defiantly hop out of the wagon without taking his hand when the sound of a fuse being lit turned both their faces back to the smoky space inside the wagon. 

There must have been a coal!

Stomping it with her feet, the fuse stayed lit, creeping closer to a wonderfully colorful moth firework. Delicately crafted, it was made to soar into the sky and burst into a flapping moth of brilliance before dissipating. But if they couldn’t put out the fuse, it would be turning this entire area into a blazing moth, placing everyone in danger. 

Is this a magic fuse?

Asura yelled inside her head incredulously.

Shit!

She stomped harder, her toes aching with the force she pressed on them. 

As it burned, Chrystoph thoughtfully unsheathed his blade, but the cramped contents of the wagon did not allow him to cut the fuse, neither did it allow them to take the moth out of the wagon for better circumstances. 

“A dagger!” Asura yelled. “Does anyone have a dagger!”

“Dagger!” Chrystoph immediately echoed, sheathing his sword and yelling to the crowd. And while some heard him, only to shake their heads, others just ignored him, walking past. 

“Dagger?” Leila also began calling, hearing her frantic daughter inside the wagon, and began to step forward with her hands slightly outstretched in worry. 

Asura looked about the wagon for any piece of metal that may be able to cut the fuse, but instead gave up and met Chrystoph’s eyes. Sweat had started pouring off her, nervous at the situation. 

What if even a blade doesn’t put it out? I don’t want this old man to know yet!

It was too crowded to evacuate in a timely manner. They couldn’t cut it with where it was wedged. Stepping on it wasn’t smothering it. And although Chrystoph was like a living bear, he probably wasn’t strong enough to tear the wagon apart, or fast enough to get to it. Regrettably, in front of this man, she had to show her hand prematurely.

This is what I get for not making a proper plan.

She groaned in frustration at herself. 

Chrystoph jumped in the wagon with her, his body bent at an absurd angle just to fit, crammed into the space with Asura. 

She looked him in the eyes.

“I need you to stay out there, and take care of my mother.”

Misinterpreting her intentions, he dismissively shook his head. 

“Not a chance, dove.” And started throwing crates out of the wagon behind him. The boys that had started this whole mess were nowhere to be found, probably hiding somewhere.

While he’s busy.

Asura slid herself between the moth and a crate, in direct view of the fuse. Holding her hands out, she tried to calm down enough to feel a sense of purpose in her actions. She breathed in through her nose, and out through her mouth, tasting the salt from her sweat on her lips. 

Picture the bubble.

Her fingertips tingling from adrenaline or magic, she didn’t know, but she pursued it with a calm determination. She had been practicing as much as she could, but without a proper instructor, what real progress could a person make?

Grab the thread… bubble… thing!

Baffled, she closed her eyes tight to envision it, but she was never very imaginative. 

“Asura? Darling?” Leila’s voice came through the canvas of the wagon, to the right of Asura. 

There!

She opened her eyes, gripping the warm feeling in her fingers. 

In a flash, she created a small bubble around the fuse, effectively cutting it off from the rest. Skipping forward, she kicked the still lit part of the fuse out of the way so it wouldn’t catch anything else on fire, and almost stumbled backwards.

The crate behind her was gone. 

Turning around, she found Chrystoph’s eyes on her, which darted back to the small semi circle gouge in the wagon. 

He saw me?

So much for the cover the crates had provided. 

His head still tilted on the top canvas, he drew his sword and stepped over the perfect scoop of wagon missing and stabbed it multiple times with his sword until it looked more like sawdust. Then he crouched, brought up his sword in a large swing, and cut into the wagon floor. A slice in the canvas roof was made as he did so, only possible with the missing crates. 

Sheathing his sword, he shuffled around until he was facing Asura, his bear like head shuffling against the cloth.

“It seems you’re more talented than you look.” His words were sincere, but at the angle he said in from, he just looked like an inquisitive owl. 

While Asura was deciding if what the owl said was a compliment or insult, he had already jumped out of the wagon, consoling Leila. 

Asura felt guilty for leaving her mother out there by herself without telling her what was happening. She was sure any mother would worry in a situation such as that. 

“Everything is okay now, Leila. We had a scare with some fireworks catching fire, but your daughter’s cleverness saved us all.” He gently picked up her hand in his patting it gently with the other. 

Asura jumped out of the wagon, the air feeling refreshing on her red face, and took her mother’s hand from him. She glared at the bear owl man named Chrystoph and turned her back on him to face her mother. 

“My daughter, are you well?” Leila’s hands roamed Asura’s face, sweeping hair off her damp forehead and pushing her cheeks in.

“I’m okay, Mother.” And allowed herself to be hugged to her mother’s bosom. She smelled of the sun, and home. 

“If I’ve ruwy shaved you, bwing me some’hing ‘o dwink.” Her words were muffled and she couldn’t know if he had heard her or not, but damn she was parched after all that activity. 

Chrystoph bowed to his companions even though they couldn’t see it or the twinkle in his eyes, and came back moments later with two cups of golden liquid. The cups themselves were held in small wire baskets, tinted with an amber color, and felt like glass. 

Sipping it suspiciously, her mouth burst with a sweet and flavorful mouthful of apples and another taste she recognized as a a type of spice. But most importantly, it was cold. 

She then gulped it down greedily, wiping her forehead after a satisfied exhale. 

Chrystoph gave her a knowing look and she face crumpled in displeasure as they had a wordless exchange about the deliciousness of the drink he had brought them. 

“You can eat the cups, too.” He said, waggling his eyebrows.

Ignoring him, she held her mother’s hand and started back the way they came, nibbling on the cup in her other hand. It was edible, to her mild displeasure, yet she continued to eat it because it tasted of rich butter and sugar. 

“Let’s go check on Papa.” 

Her mother wordlessly allowed herself to be led, a smile on her face. 

Chrystoph, much to Asura’s dismay, trailed behind them with the wire baskets, unintentionally intimidating all who laid eyes upon the trio. 

When the group came back to Nan and Orson, Chrystoph was carrying all manners of snacks and trinkets for them to share, chosen by Asura. Leila and Asura gave a matching hair accessory to Nan, a beetle pin with its wings out in flight, decorated with glossy paint and colorful tassels. 

When Nan reluctantly accepted the immortal shape of her least favorite animal, Asura genuinely laughed for what felt like the first time in ages.