The Path to the Water

The morning bloomed through the window, pressing against Duara’s eyelids. She tried to stave off her morning rising, but her father’s murmuring echoed from across the cabin, keeping her awake.

The night prior, they had made makeshift beds from their bags and clothes. The items were placed specifically for their comfort; the softest clothes tended towards the head, and the rest needed to be as even as possible. Over the past few weeks of traveling, they had both perfected the position of their makeshift beds.

Duara stared at the ceiling, wondering if she could recall her bed in Haford. It must’ve been hard… or firm… was it more comfortable than this? The thought wandered off as dirt crumbled between her fingers. When was the last time she washed? Duara groaned when the sensation overwhelmed her thoughts. She gathered as many of her clothes as she could fit into her bag and crept out towards the door.

As the door scraped against the floor, her father turned to face her. His eyes were still closed, but his face cringed. Two words slipped out of his mouth, and Duara could only make out the second. “… Sorry,” he murmured.

She didn’t spend too much thought on his morning murmuring; she needed to be clean. With this in mind, she hoisted her bag onto her back and grabbed a large pot, holding it between her right hip and arm.

The journey to Drethen yesterday had allowed her to survey the surroundings of her cabin. She remembered a fast stream that most likely fed into an estuary. Her pace hastened, worried that by the time she returned, she could miss the perfect time for her clothes to dry in full sunlight.

Despite the early low light of the sun, its rays filtered through the leaves and presented naturally cleared paths. She didn’t spend too much time deciding which one to take, only keeping an eye toward a tree in the distance. It was the same size as the surrounding trees, but a few branches had grown weary of the weight they carried, which made the branches droop. The leaves had withered into a bright orange, somehow capturing the color of the rising sun. The mental image of the leaves constantly reminded Duara of the brief moments she had to complete her chore.

A voice pierced through her anxiety. “Duara?” A familiar figure stood on the other side of the stream.

Ashke gave a quick wave from the other side of the stream. The stream itself was a few inches deep inside a hollow of dirt and exposed tree roots. Duara had to watch her footing as she moved closer to the water. The stream distanced her from Ashke by a few meters; if she gave it a running start, she could maybe get to the other side.

Duara gathered her senses and responded. “What… what’re you doing here?”

The girl smiled in return while her eyes followed the stream. “I always come here in the morning.” Her expression mellowed and she kneeled closer to the water, allowing her head to follow the direction of the flow. She was about to dip her hand in the water, but before she continued, she noticed the pot and bag that Duara carried.

“I’ve been neglectful,” Duara confessed. She placed the pot near the water and chuckled to break through her own embarrassment. “I need to wash… everything.”

Ashke turned towards the stream again, but Duara caught a glimpse of her lip curling—an empathetic gesture. “I’ve had those days.” Ashke submerged her hand in the water and stared in near silence as the stream washed over it. “But I think you’re just exhausted from traveling. So it’s not the same. I’m just lazy.”

The sound of Ashke’s voice was flattened, as if she were rattling facts that came to her mind. It was a completely different demeanor than when they first met. Duara started to fill her pot but kept a concerned eye toward Ashke. “No blacksmithing today?”

She began with a sniffle. “No, my uncle didn’t want me there today. He said it’d be slow, not much to do, so it’s best if I took a day off.”

“That’s good. I’m sure you’re tired from yesterday.”

“I am.” A sniffle again.

Duara tried to peek at the rest of Ashke’s expression, only catching a single tear fall. Ashke noticed her gaze, and she quickly took her hand out of the water to wash her face. When she spoke, her voice came out slightly coarse at first. “Your pot—” she cleared her throat. “Your pot is full.” Her head turned once she felt comfortable revealing her face.

With Ashke’s full expression in view, the whites of her eyes were reddened, and she double-blinked every other second to combat the sensation.

After a moment, Ashke’s words caught up to Duara. “Oh.” She withdrew her pot and held it back at her hip.

Duara opened her mouth to try to comfort her friend, but she didn’t know how to start—or bring it up.

“You look different without your hood,” Ashke interrupted her thought. “I mean, I’ve only seen you once, but it took me some time to recognize you when you came out of the woods.” Some strength recovered in her voice, a semblance of her original tone.

Duara instinctively covered her ear with her free hand. “The clipping makes the growth look disgusting.”

“Did you always keep your hood up in Haford?”

“Yeah… it’s an old habit before getting my tradechoice. Most of the younger Aelorians do, but y’know, it’s still obvious to tell us apart from the Sylweans. Because, well, they don’t wear hoods.”

“Tradechoice?” Ashke’s seemingly sullen behavior turned into curiosity. She kept her squat but squared her focus onto Duara.

Duara nodded. “It’s this stupid tradition for Aelorians. All of us get tested for abilities when we’re just kids. Then a trade is chosen for you.”

Ashke poked her head up as she asked, “Were you good at anything? What did they choose for you?”

Duara started to dig the balls of her feet into the wet ground for a few seconds until she grumbled a response. “…Enchanter.”

“Oh.” Ashke sunk back into her hunched posture. “Did you want to do that?”

Duara shrugged. “I don’t know. All I know is that I didn’t want to be told what to be for the rest of my life.”

“I’m sorry. It sounds awful over there for Aelorians. If I were there, I’d probably be the opposite.” Her arms folded over her knees and she dug her nose into them. “They wouldn’t be able to find a job I could do right.”

Duara placed her pot on the dirt and put a foot into the water.

“What’re you doing?!”

Instead of responding, Duara took a few more steps until she was beside her sullen friend.

“Your boots are all muddied now!” Ashke yelped.

Duara chuckled. “Don’t worry about me. They need to be washed anyways.” She didn’t consider the water being cold and tried to hide a wince.

“I saw that! You scrunched your face!”

Duara shrugged off the accusation and sat down next to Ashke, mimicking her sullen squat. “Ashke…” It took some time for Duara to figure out how to voice her thoughts. She let the pause linger as the flowing water filled the silence. “I—”

“They lie—” Ashke stopped Duara. Her gaze fixed on the water, and her head slowly sunk into her arms as if it were drowning. “I hold everyone back. It’s never slow at the forge.” Now that Duara was beside her, her voice became quiet, almost a whisper next to the water. “…It’s never slow,” she muttered again. “I’ve watched my uncle work nearly every day. Even if no orders come up, he needs to fill back orders, and I saw the order board. It’s completely filled—I’m not an idiot—or whatever they think I am. But I know… it’s never slow.” The weight behind her voice was like a feather, and it trembled as she tried to carry it. “It’s never slow…” she said once more. But this time, it was a faint voice that was swallowed by the sound of the moving water. “They think I’m a fragile piece of glass, no—maybe like a withered flower, barely able to keep itself up. Just like I was at every other job they had me apprentice. They lied to make me feel better, but it makes me feel worse.” A pause broke her strength, and a soft whimper continued. “They can’t even trust me with the truth.”

The whimper grew into a soft sob.

“I’m sorry,” Duara muttered.

“It’s not your—”

“I lied too—” Duara continued. “I know it’s not the same, but you, you deserve better. I didn’t tell you that I was Aelorian when I met you.”

Ashke fixed her slumped posture to reply. “That’s nothing. I don’t care about that.”

This time, Duara slumped instead and leaned her cheek into her forearms while keeping her focus on Ashke. “But it kind of is the same. I mean—at first, I couldn’t trust you to know my truth. I’m just so used to lying, I think. I mean, we lie every day, us Aelorians. We tell ourselves that everything is okay, and we try to continue like we didn’t live through yesterday. But now, I’m here, and the most genuine person I’ve ever met gives me hours of work in the form of nails into my hands, and all I can return is a lie. Can you forgive me, Ashke?”

Ashke sniffled away the leftover sadness. “I was never upset at that.” She let out a half-hearted giggle. Afterward, Duara didn’t shift in her position, still waiting for the confirmation. “Okay!” Ashke smiled. “I forgive you. Just call me Ash. Ashke sounds weird from people my age. Only old folks call me that.”

With a sly smile, Duara apologized again. “Sorry… Ash.”

Her friend giggled and jabbed her shoulder. “Enough with the sorry.”

“S—” Duara almost made the mistake of repeating the apology. “Alright, then,” she responded through a smile. “So what’s the next endeavor for the great Ash?”

Ash tapped her chin while her lip curled to form a mischievous expression. “What if I apprenticed with you?”

“Me?” Duara stood from her position.

“I mean, you’re probably the best akibon user I know. What if I learned everything you know?”

“I’m really not that great at that stuff. Plus, I don’t even know if I want to use akibon anymore.” Duara wasn’t prepared to deal with Ash’s disappointment, noticing that Ash tried to silence her initial expression by quickly nodding.

“That’s alright!” Ash’s voice peaked. “I wouldn’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.” Afterward, she stood as well. “Thanks, you really cheered me up.” She clenched her hands in front as a display of confidence. “I’ll keep trying my best.” She turned to head back to Drethen. “I’ll see you later, right? At the Kyron Temple.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Duara confirmed. However, Ash had already walked a distance away.

Duara bit her lip. She didn’t want to be known as the gifted akibon wielder anymore. If she could forget everything she knew about akibon, she would in a heartbeat.

Her soaked feet started to tingle from the cold, and her body shivered from the wet reminder.

She needed to wash her clothes. Dirt stains from her journey caked many of them. Underneath the collection of dirt, years of more painful stains remained.

At least this time, she didn’t lie. She didn’t cower like she always had.

Sunlight glimmered into the stream, offering a tease of warmth, but not enough for any sense of comfort.

Unfortunately, it gave her panic, as she struggled to quickly wash away the dirt from her clothes. It was almost too late to get a full dry.

Without looking, she grabbed the top item from her bag. A tunic. It was the same one she wore when she left Haford. After a few wears without a wash, the tunic clung to different hues of brown.

She scrubbed, but the dirt barely came off. After a few hours with the clothes, her hands became as cold as her feet. If she replaced her tunic and the other clothes with a stick and kindling, she’d be able to quickly make a fire to keep herself warm with the pace she was scrubbing.

Even after minutes of washing, the tunic still grasped onto its muddy hue. Exasperated, she took a deep breath in. When she finally released it, the recent image of Ash eased into her mind—every second of Ash’s smile, her reserved giggle, and the cheer in her voice—began to temper away the chilling water.

With that in mind, she would continue to take the same breath, taking in the surrounding area, hoping she’d be able to remember each piece of the memory.

Despite her drenched shoes and clothes, the chilling water, and the timid sun… she smiled.

The dirt hadn’t washed away, and she surrendered her battle against it. It was a part of it now, and soon, the dirt here would cover up the same stains.

When she finally packed her clothes back into her bag, she realized that she was even more drenched than before.

But somehow, she wasn’t cold.