4. Lila
Lila
Flora sat alone on the swings at school, the cold, rusted chains creaking as the dim winter clouds crowded overhead. Her mind was still tangled up in the dream, and pangs of terror lingered with every pulse in her chest. Those visions, those memories—they made her feel so helpless.
How small she is.
Flora sunk deeper into her winter coat, focusing on the steady rhythm of the swing.
“Where’s your bodyguard?”
Flora’s heart skipped a beat. The voice was sharp and mocking, a tone she knew too well. She turned to find Lila, a mousy blonde classmate with short curly hair, flanked by her vultures.
“Davy’s sick,” Flora replied quietly. Her brother, two grades older and her self-appointed bodyguard, was still curled up in bed with a stomach bug.
“Oh, no,” Lila said, cocking her head in feigned sympathy, her buggy eyes only exaggerated by her glasses as she stepped closer. “Guess you have to play with me today.”
Not good. Every day, Lila would choose one unlucky player for her favorite game. Flora’s grip tightened on the cold chains. She wasn’t ready for this, not today.
“Come on, Flora,” Lila grinned. “Let’s play sad chicken.”
Flora swallowed, and the other kids watching seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
“Sad chicken” was the playground equivalent of a rap battle. You took turns throwing insults back and forth until one of you finally broke down crying. It was cruel, but it kept Lila’s vultures entertained.
And, naturally, Lila had never lost.
“I don’t wanna play,” Flora murmured, but Lila hardly intended to listen.
“I’ll go first,” Lila said, looking around to ensure she had an audience. “Flora has no friends.” Lila stalked closer. “‘Cause she’s weird, and ‘cause no one likes her.”
Flora’s nightmare was as vivid as her reality. Her thoughts flashed back to the dark demon, stalking closer in slow, deliberate steps. The same hollow thirst was in Lila’s bright eyes. Flora’s stomach tightened, and her mouth went dry.
Run, a thought whispered. You can run.
Lila shook Flora’s swing, testing her boundaries. “What? Gonna cry?”
For a brief moment, Flora felt something rise in her chest—something sharp, something that could be courage. With her heart hammering, Flora pushed off the swing and shot up.
But, it was a fleeting spark.
A wave of heat rushed to her face, her stomach churning as her legs carried her across the playground.
She ran as fast as she could, her feet pounding against ice and mush.
Lila’s voice sneered after her, but Flora didn’t stop.
She couldn’t stop. The vultures laughed, and Flora felt as though teeth and claws were still snapping at her back.
Flora ran until she reached the edge of the playground. She slumped against a crooked and barren tree, gasping for air as the cold burned in her chest.
Tomorrow, she thought miserably, looking down at the little fingers poking out from her coat, red and prickly from the cold. Tomorrow, I’ll be strong.
But even as she thought it, she knew it wasn’t true.
The cackle of vultures echoed in the distance, and Flora wiped her cheek with her fist. Barely having even played, Flora lost sad chicken.
That night, Flora was afraid to fall asleep. Staring at the dim crack of light from the hallway, she still heard laughter, still heard snarls.
Softly, Flora spoke to her imaginary friend.
He didn’t have a name, but he said nice things, and he didn’t laugh when she cried.
Mom and Dad say that everyone has a guardian angel, so Flora imagined that he was hers.
But his voice was an illusion, one she could only hear in the dark.
She missed him in the daylight, because that was when she needed her guardian angel most.
Flora closed her sleepy eyes, swaddled in her pink flowered blanket.
“Goodnight,” she said, to no one in particular.
“Morning!”
She opened her eyes once more to the boy with ashy blonde hair sitting next to crystal-clear water.
“Ouch! Ouch!” Flora whimpered, quickly hopping out of the water as the gash on her knee began to sting.
“The water was healing it!” Noec criticized. “Now if you touch the water again, you’ll just poof home.” He flopped back with a sigh, closing his eyes and soaking in the midday sun. “Took you long enough to get here today.”
“Just…” Flora began, “... couldn’t …” She kicked her leg and spun around. “... sleep.” She couldn’t shake away the tingly feeling on her knee.
“I guess I don’t blame you,” Noec replied.
He rolled his head toward the path. “I found a really cool night lily. It was like… blue and purple and stuff. So Heron went to give it to my aunt. She’s a lot better today.
” Noec stretched his arms and hopped to his feet.
He started along the familiar path toward the village, then paused. “You coming?”
Flora chased after him. “Thanks for saving me,” she said as she slowed to a trot. “I’m sorry you had to.”
“What? From the scythe?” Noec raised a brow. “I would be dead if you didn’t distract it.” Flora looked at him with bewilderment, and he added, “You saved me.” He smiled, and with a little bow, he added, “Thank you.”
Flora stifled a grin. She peered at the bag that always hung on his shoulder, now understanding why. That pretty blade was always inside.
Off in the direction of the village, they heard lively jabber.
“Oh,” Noec said, lifting a finger. “I hope you’re ready to be a local celebrity.”
Heron halted his stroll back toward the spring when he saw them, then broke into a jog. He crouched down before Flora. “You are nothing but trouble, young lady,” he teased, but there was a gentle worry in his eyes. “You weren’t hurt, were you?”
“Just my knee,” she said, but when she looked down, the scrape was mostly gone.
Heron wrapped a big hand over her shoulder. “It’s over now,” he assured her. “You’re safe, but just in case, I have Hunters watching every edge of the Forest for trouble.” He offered a tired smile and met her eyes. “Now, let’s get you home.”
“Come on, come on,” Noec nudged, excitedly pulling Flora past and into the village. There was a crowd of villagers hovering outside, apparently awaiting their return.
Perri gasped. “How big was it?” he asked. “Did you see its eyes? Was it scary?”
“Perri, honey, I think maybe we should give them some space,” said a woman with a short blonde bob. She had sleepy brown eyes and thin lips. And, she was very, very pregnant.
“Hey, Florabelle! Flora! This is my aunt, Elia,” Noec introduced her, tugging at her shirt.
The woman said with a bright smile, “Hello, my little flower fairy! Oh my goodness, I’ve heard so much about you.” She patted Flora’s arm. “Yesterday was a tough day, huh?”
Flora nodded, then pointed to the woman’s belly. “What’re you gonna name your baby?”
She smiled back and put her hand on her tummy. “Salo if it’s a boy, or Feya if it’s a girl.”
“Those are pretty names,” Flora said politely. “I really like ‘Feya’. You should have a girl.”
“I’ll try my best,” Elia replied with a chuckle before sending them on their way.
Next, they were greeted by a slender woman with skin the color of polished mahogany and a smile that seemed to be a permanent fixture. Following behind was a tall man with cropped hair who didn’t seem nearly as jovial.
“So this is the one we saw playing with the others yesterday!” the woman greeted. “Miss Florabelle, is it?” The woman took Flora’s hand in her own delicate hands and shook it. Flora awed at the pretty, vining tattoos on her fingers. “Ross, come say hello to the Sleepwalker,” the woman called back.
Freckled and fair, the man behind her had the build of a viking and sharp eyes that didn’t miss much.
“Kestra…” he began hesitantly. Kestra cleared her throat, a flash of a threat in her eyes.
Ross studied Flora for a moment, stiff and silent as though he expected her to bite. She hadn’t released Kestra’s hand.
Flora blinked up at him. “Hi,” she said simply. “I like your freckles.”
He frowned—just a flicker—and his hand twitched at his side.
“My mom says freckles are little sparkles the sun leaves behind when it likes someone.” Flora gave a small, lopsided smile, then looked back down at Kestra’s hand.
Ross blinked. He raised his brows, then cracked the slightest smile. The little girl still tugged at Kestra’s hand, with a sparkle in her eyes as she studied the leaves on the vines of her tattoos. Kestra smirked up at her husband.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Maybe Heron’s right.” With a hint of lingering uncertainty, he stared at Flora a moment longer.
She frowned. “I want tattoos,” she said. “But Davy says if I get tattoos, I have to join a gang. Are you in a gang?”
“... what?” Ross managed.
Kestra burst into a laugh. She laughed wholly, with her eyes crinkled and her nose scrunched. Ross’s smile deepened at the sight of her, though he tried to roll his eyes.
“Told you,” Kestra said softly to him. “Just a sweet little girl.”
Ross exhaled. “We’re Perri and Sona’s parents,” he explained, and his demeanor had shifted into a freckled grin that she recognized. “Happy to meet you, little miss Sleepwalker.”
Perri darted by in a flash, cackling maniacally as he waved something above his head.
“Oh no, not again,” Ross muttered. “Perri!” he called. “What is that?”
“Go, Perri, go!” Kestra cheered hurriedly, trying to block Ross as he followed after. “Don’t let him catch you!” she hollered as they all ran off.
“YOU’LL NEVER CATCH ME!” Perri crowed with a low, evil laugh.
Then, there was Thaola—the widow Flora had seen the day before, stoically watching her toddlers play in the stream. She greeted Flora and Noec with an unexpectedly tight squeeze.
“I’m so, so glad you two are safe,” Thaola said, blinking back tears.
“I’ve never heard of those things leaving the Forest,” she continued.
She placed a hand on Noec’s cheek and said, “I promise, from now on, we’ll do a much better job protecting you.
” Looking at Flora, she added, “And you. You’re welcome around me and my girls any time. ”