Chapter 2 - White I

The girl landed face first in the dirt. She was alone in a cave. The taste of mud and blood was pungent on her tongue.

She pushed herself from the ground, her head throbbing. She was young and slender as a knife. The girl observed her surroundings, but nothing felt familiar.

She looked down and noticed small letters engraved on her wrist. The word “White” in neat cursive calligraphy. She studied the tiny marking with confusion until its meaning surfaced in her memory.

It was her name.

White wandered closer to the entrance of the cave. Mist from the rain drifted inward. She felt the moisture against her fair skin. Her wide-sleeved pastel dress was soft as sin, and she felt almost naked.

She rubbed the tattoo gently, hoping she could remember anything else that led her to this place. Her mind was vacant.

She heard horse hooves approaching. The noise startled her, but she remained still.

Gale stepped into the cave, a thick scarlet cloak covering her head. Her face remained hidden beneath the hood. She guided her beloved horse Wildfire behind her. She gave her that name because her mane grew red as rubies. Wildfire was different, just like she was.

White watched Gale carefully. Though the cloak concealed her face, White could still see her eyes. Gale’s eyes were a stark magenta, vibrant and intense. A glimpse of them burned into White’s memory. She was speechless.

A draft swept through the cave. White felt her teeth chatter and her body tremble. She gathered the nearest sticks she could find.

Gale heard the crackling behind her. Her muscles tensed and her breathing quickened. She was accustomed to surviving. She escaped slavery when she was only twelve years of age. Growing up, her master looked for reasons to beat her and her people. Over time Gale grew numb to his whip. She understood violence better than her mother tongue. It was all she knew.

She turned around expecting to find an enemy.

Instead she saw a young woman with hair white as powder, trailing down to her ankles, attempting to build a fire.

“Who are you?” Gale asked. Her accent was thick. It sounded as though her tongue barely moved when she spoke.

“I’m White. What’s your name?” the girl said with a smile.

Gale studied her expression. She had never met anyone who looked quite like her.

White returned her attention to the sticks, trying to spark a flame. The wood was damp and brittle. Her efforts were useless. She grew slightly frustrated but continued trying.

“Why won’t this work,” she whispered.

Before she could give up, a flame ignited before her. It surged upward toward the ceiling before settling into a steady fire. Gale instinctively stepped back.

White examined her hands, confused. Nothing had changed.

“I don’t know how that happened, but look. We have a fire!” she said excitedly.

She ran to Gale and embraced her.

Gale froze, breathless and uncertain what to do. The girl was a stranger, yet her scent disarmed her. Vanilla and honey filled Gale’s nose.

White released her and hurried back to the fire as a cold draft crept into the cave. Her body shivered. It did not help that all she wore was a thin off-the-shoulder dress. Her clavicle was exposed, and the hem barely covered her poulaines.

The others soon entered the cave. They tied their horses beside Wildfire and gathered near the warmth of the flames.

“Since when do you know how to start a fire?” Marie teased Gale as she twisted her hair, wringing water from her golden curls. The others towered over Gale’s tiny frame. Her skin pale as milk, she looked almost like an apparition standing among them.

Gale remained quiet. She avoided meeting their eyes.

“Good job, Drey. You’re finally good for something,” Tek’mer snorted.

Jalems unsheathed his sword, Iris, a double-edged blade of refined steel. He had earned it while serving a high lord, though life had carried him far from riches.

“Who is this?” he asked, his voice grim beneath the thicket of his beard.

Gale stepped in front of the blade.

“A friend,” she said quickly.

“I’m White. It’s nice to meet all of you,” the girl added with a bright grin, seemingly unbothered by the tension filling the cave.

Marie placed a hand on her father’s arm. Her icy blue eyes softened him with a look she had used many times before.

Jalems sighed and sheathed Iris at his waist.

Marie studied White for a moment and felt certain she was not a threat.

The cave smelled of damp soil and old stone, but the warmth of the fire made it almost feel like home. White sat on one side of the flames with Gale beside her. The rest of the group settled opposite them.

“Where are you from?” Tek’mer asked, his tone dry. The firelight revealed his dark umber skin and sharp cheekbones.

“I don’t know,” White replied.

“What are you doing out here?” Jalems pressed.

White blinked slowly. “I don’t know,” she said again with a helpless shrug.

“Do you live near here?” Marie asked gently.

“Oh wait, let me guess. You don’t know,” Tek’mer muttered.

“I wish I could tell you more,” White said apologetically. “All I remember is waking up in this cave.”

Her long white hair pooled beside her like silk. Her soft features made it difficult to distrust her.

“Well, this is a lost cause. Onto more important matters,” Tek’mer said, turning to Jalems. “Where’s the relic?”

Jalems nodded toward the corner where the item sat wrapped in leather and bound with thin rope.

Tek’mer crouched beside the knapsack and unraveled it. The ancient amphora glistened like gold. Its handles were sculpted into stallion heads. Jewels of rose, amber, and fuchsia circled its rim, their colors shifting with the light.

His expression hardened with disappointment. It was not the artifact he had hoped to find, though it would still fetch a fair trade.

Jalems watched him carefully. He trusted Tek’mer, but anxiety lingered in his stomach like a meal that refused to settle. That relic would keep them afloat for a time. He could not afford for anything to happen to it.

“We should help her,” Marie whispered, tugging on her father’s cloak.

“I know we’re not supposed to take on other people’s problems but…”

“You take on their problems once and you’ll be doing it for the rest of your life,” Jalems muttered as he sharpened a dagger with a whetstone.

Marie rolled her eyes.

“But she’s the same age as me,” she insisted. “What if… she was me?”

Her voice softened with empathy.

Jalems sighed.

“Fine. We’ll escort her to a nearby village. After that she’s no longer our concern.”

“We have a deal?” Jalems lifted his pinky.

Marie smiled and hooked her finger with his.

“Deal.”