Captive Flame (E)

"She didn't kill them on purpose," Wynter shouted at her sister.

Summer rolled her eyes. "And how do you know that? You weren't there, were you?"

"No, but - but what if she didn't know? She didn't know what an Ever was, what if it's different in her world? If her people aren't Linked then how was she to know that our lives are stored in Evergreen needles? How was -"

Summer interrupted her. "I don't get you at all! You knew her for less than an hour and you're completely convinced that she's an unwitting murderer of 700 people."

"Of course I am! She's not stupid, she just doesn't understand. You knew her too, would you have called her a murderer then?"

Summer picked up a book and began to read, ignoring her sister.

"Well, I'm going out to help her. She was laying in the snow - she's going to be freezing and what if she doesn't know her way back here?"

"Not my problem."

Wynter huffed, ran downstairs, and was confronted by Spring at the bottom.

"Hang on. Where do you think you're going?"

Wynter struggled against her sister, but couldn't get past. "I need to help Mishka," she said.

"She's a killer, Wyn. She doesn't deserve help."

"She didn't mean to!"

"Mum?" Spring shouted.

"I'm in the kitchen," their mother answered. "What is it?"

"Wynter's trying to help the murderer girl."

Their mother came in. "You're not allowed to go outside until tomorrow, okay?" she said to Wynter.

"But what about Mishka? How many times should I say that she didn't do it on purpose?"

Her mother sighed. "The fact is that she did kill 700 people, whether she knew she was doing it or not. She could be dangerous - I'm trying to save you, Wynter. Now go back upstairs and read a book or something."

"Yes Mum." Wynter trudged up the stairs dejectedly, worrying about her friend. What if Mishka's freezing to death? What if she's lost and walking in the wrong direction? What if she's been stolen by Them? And the worst of it was, no-one would help her.

She had been a fool to tell everyone about Mishka's non-childproof magic, about her burnt palm. She'd thought that it would help - but it only made Mishka an easier target for their anger and resentment.

*****

The fresh falling snow covered Mishka's unconscious body like loose soil over a grave. She awoke, sitting up and looking around her, wondering why there was snow in the middle of summer.

The charred skeleton of an evergreen tree in front of Mishka reminded her of the moments before she had lost consciousness. She had created fire with her mind. No, it's impossible. I dreamt it. Her left hand rose from the snow and she saw the burn on its palm. It was real.

She got up, wondering how long she had been out for. Which was that way back to Wynter's house? She examined each of the 4 paths as if they would tell her which way to go, and a thought caught up with her. Had Wynter and her sisters been in the crowd that had gathered when she'd burnt the tree? They couldn't have been. They would've helped me, brought me inside or at least stayed by me until I woke up. Wouldn't they?

While she was musing, a middle-aged man and an old woman that could've been his mother walked by. They stopped by her, the old woman coming forward.

"Are you lost, dear?" She said gently to Mishka, who nodded gratefully, trying to use the little sign language she knew to explain.

Then the man caught sight of her hand, the small burn on the palm, and his expression changed from one of tender indulgence to anger - and fear. He pulled his mother away.

"No Mother, leave her. It's the murderer girl." He kept his voice low, calm and inexpressive, as if Mishka were an animal who could understand tones but not words. Murderer?

The anger, repulsion and even being treated like an animal, Mishka was used to, in her own world - although she had hoped it would change, here. But the fear - the fear was new. She remembered the unexpected feeling of power when the spark from her mind had ignited into flames, remembered the neglect, loneliness and abuse she has suffered for most of her life from people like this man who looked at her with angry, fearful eyes, and for a moment she was ready to set him alight.

Then the sight of the old woman beside him put out the fire in her heart. Mishka let go of the strength in her legs and fell to her knees, appalled at the crime she had been moments away from committing.

As her tears melted the snow in front of her, she heard a voice, carried on the air. A whisper in the wind.

You feel weak, the voice said, and suddenly she did. You feel hopeless. You feel... Empty. All of Mishka's emotions fled from her, chasing the wind, and with them went her thoughts.

She stood up, barely conscious, and followed the wind.

It grew dark, and still Mishka walked, her mind shut so she didn't know she wasn't thinking.

Then a blindfold over her head, and when it was finally taken off, her brain began to work again.

A woman stood in front of her, with curly, cornflower-blue hair that faded to azure as it cascaded down to her feet. From her neck down to her waist she was thin, wearing a tight material that Mishka had never seen before, and below that, her sky-blue dress fell in silk layers around and behind her. She was like a human waterfall, animated though she stood completely, unnaturally still. Mishka stared, unmindful of the two formidable guards in scarlet uniform that stood by her sides.

One of the guards pushed her to her knees. "Kneel before Narkesh Na Vïd," he ordered.

Narkesh Na Vïd spoke. She had a curious voice, neither feminine nor masculine, but somehow both. "What is your name, child?"

Mishka couldn't answer, couldn't even open her mouth. Suddenly she felt extremely tired, as though all her strength had been sapped. She felt a tug in her brain, then her name was painted in the air.

"Mishka," Narkesh Na Vïd read. She frowned. "Are you an Ever or a Star?"

Mishka had forgotten about the Ever/Star thing of this world. Deciding to declare herself as an Ever, (To be a Star, she would have to make herself look a year older by the end of 3 days here) focused hard on the word, not wanting to show that she wasn't from this woman's world.

The word Ever appeared in the air, and Mishka tried to let out a long breath without seeming to.

Another, sharper tug in Mishka's brain made her recoil from pain. A spark appeared, then Narkesh Na Vïd was closely examining a small burn on the tip of her middle finger.

"Interesting," she said. "You, child, will sell for a lot if I don't keep you for myself." She turned and walked away, her dress tailing behind her. Mishka was dragged away by the scarlet guards, too exhausted to stand on her own feet.