“But Emma,” she said, “it’s not like you knew that was the test route. You just went that way by accident!”
A chaotic sound of thumps diverted our attention. Raven had used my target as his own. Six little stones winked at us with dampness from the same marshmallow-like substance that my arrows were stuck in. He pumped his tiny fist victoriously as he ran over to pull them out. Five arrows. Six stones.
Eleven years of haunting dreams.
“Yeah,” I protested, “but why me? Why am I the only one who tried, and it just so happened that I had done that route once before in the same day?” I attempted with desperation to hold back the pulsing tears that wanted to spill out of my eyes. “Why?” I sat down on the ground, emotionally drained. All I could do was stare at my feet, my bow heavy and useless in my limp hands.
Sam, Raven, and I just sat for a while, listening to the peaceful quiet of the water in the stream nearby. To the breeze coming in from the windows. To the—
A storm was coming.
I remembered the dreams.
I was so, so sick and tired of those dreams. So tired of getting agitated at every thought of destruction, injury, mayhem. So tired of waiting helplessly for them to come.
Because I knew, whether in a year or a hundred, they would come. They always did.
Sam knew a little. I couldn’t tell Raven; he was too young to understand the importance of secrecy. Ash had me figured out, but then, we were very much alike in our abilities. It was like watching a chess match. She saw a single, distinct move on the chessboard. I saw the game from start to finish. And I hated every moment of it. And I liked chess. So that’s saying something.
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