In the dream, he was trying to reach her. Using his hands to direct the flames Keenin pushed the sweltering fire aside and stepped forward to get to Tess who was obliviously shelving books while the fire ate away around them. Every time he stepped closer Tess would reappear further into the inferno.  

After a while of this Keenin felt as though he was being tricked and that she was simply leading him on so that she wouldn’t have to die alone. He tried to shout his complaints, but Tess's skin turned into the flames themselves until it wasn't Tess at all; only a faceless flaming figure. Keenin was certain that he could feel its gaze.

He awoke in a cold sweat, to the dark and the swaying shadows.

He was alone. 

When he turned his head towards the smoldering ashes of yesterday's fire he saw it… or maybe he didn’t see it because nobody was there. The man’s bags were gone. The anxiety of having to explain his nightmare dissolved and Keenin slapped a hand to his face and laughed bitterly. Gods, he was still tired. He wanted to go home. Yet he had chosen this. 

He stayed half asleep, half awake while the world brightened. He gazed deeply at the orange red hues cresting the sky. So many times he had stood on the edge of town thinking about this place, the world beyond. He was here.  

He signed, rubbed his eyes, and turned over to retrieve his bag and the canister with the map. Pulling it free he first thought of Lester and saw a dot mark which appeared quite a distance from his own. He thought of the City of Meladona and a distance three times as far opened up. Finally he asked for a kind teacher, the best teacher nearby. It narrowed in on a forest before panning down to a place within the nearby city.  

Alright. I’ll make sure I can defend myself and meet up with Lester. Huh. Does this map look smaller?

He inspected the edge of the map. One of the edges was rough like it had been neatly torn. His mind drifted to Bodwin, but he folded the map before it could reveal anything and sighed. He reached for his bag without looking and his fingers brushed something smooth. He lifted a pair of simple pants in his size that had been folded under his bag. They were made from the same scaly skin of the birds which nearly killed him. He imagined the merchant staying up late to sew them. 

Maybe he was right to leave. There were really only two options when traveling with a newbie blessed by an elemental, you help them and risk death or you use them for your own gain. 

He changed his pants, collected his things, located Bodwin’s footprints, and followed along at his own pace. As he assumed he reached the main road.  

A group of men with bows were gathered there beside an enclosed wagon. They set their eyes on Keenin, making him feel awkward and small. These hunters, or guards, or perhaps merchants were not easy to pass. One of the men had a larger bow strung on his back and an indigo jerkin. He noticed Keenin and smiled.

“Kid,” the man said. “You were sold out.”

The words didn't quite sink in. And then…They did. In that split second Keenin saw in his mind his isolated spec of a hometown, and he ran for it. 

He could hear the gossip, smell the washing soap, see his mother’s house.

And yet… 

His pack hit the ground hard in front of him as he caught his fall, his face coming close to chipped pebbles and orange pine needles. The wind had pushed him down.

“Do you think I left that path open?” the same man as before spoke.

Keenin hopelessly looked back to the mounted archers and that man. The wind had moved for him. 

“Why don’t you give it another try?” the wind user said. 

There’s a first for everything, Keenin told himself. If the fire spirit wouldn’t free him of this, then what good was it? He raised a hand, with a vague memory of how he had escaped the burning library. Flames responded to burn harmlessly around his hand as he imagined they would. Except the man in the distance remained untouched. Keenin had been so sure that the flame would bloom where he willed. 

“So that merchant wasn’t lying,” the man said. “You do have a talent with fire.”

Oh, no. Keenin felt his mistake. The man held out a hand of his own, palm up, and a perfect ball of flame burst forth above his palm.

“This is quite dangerous you know. If I didn't have an elemental of wind to remove the air fueling your fire, this would have killed me.”

He closed his hand and snuffed out the orb of fire. 

“So. Are you coming?” the man asked. 

“No!” Keenin shouted. 

He had seen his opportunity. He lit the grass by the horses hooves and dashed for cover. The horses shrieked in terror. Keenin clumsily lit some more shrubs and trees to keep the other riders back, but next he knew the world dropped from under him. 

Keenin became vaguely aware of a throbbing in his head, the tickle of grass, the solid ground, and the presence of others. His body was so heavy. The wind user lifted him by an arm and snapped a thin cuff around his wrist. Keenin's heartbeat fluttered in his chest.  

“Go to sleep,” Judial said. 

A flick to Keenin’s forehead dropped him into the dark.