FINDING WILLOW

CHAPTER 1

It's early—too early—but the sun is already pushing shadows into the corners. A chunk of bangs falls into my eyes and I jam it into a barrette that's silver as a freshly sharpened knife blade. My bare feet make no sound at all on the chilly marbled-gray tiles as I head toward the common room. Stifling the urge to sneak to the other sleeping quarter and see if my dad's awake, I keep going until I reach the bronze table where we eat our evening meal. The polished finish reflects a sunbeam, shooting it straight into my eyes. I duck my head to see where my dad laid his Eichen staff. Lifting the supple pretzel-brown leather case, I grin at the solid weight. Tightening my grip so I don't drop it, I head to the front door, eagerness mixing with anxiety in the pit of my stomach. This will be my first Eichen staff fight-training.

My trainer, Thorn, one of my mother's relatives, is probably already at the meadow. The Birthing Wiser chose true when she named him. I don't think I've ever seen him smile, let alone laugh out loud. Thorn lets you know exactly what he's thinking and it's rarely anything uplifting. Training will be...challenging in more ways than one. At least Thorn is better than Willow; I hate my name, what's to like? Our names are supposed to hold the essence of who we are, but a willow is weak and weepy. Not strong at all, but bends at the lightest touch. Dad says his and Mother's people are extraordinary. I'm afraid my very best isn't even close to their very worst. But today I intend to change that by mastering the Eichen staff like my dad did when he was my age.

I slip outside and my breath catches at the intoxicating beauty around me, as far as the eye can see. Wet lime-tinted grass, soft as a sponge beneath my feet, a sky so icy blue it hurts my eyes, trees with velvety trunks the color of burnt toast, and leaves in shades of green you don't find even in the deluxe box of crayons. This is the perfection of my parents' homeland. The smoky-purple tops of the Feltie Mountains stab through silvery clouds in the far distance, and I shiver. It's been said that so much perfection in one place argues rottenness somewhere else.

That's probably why I'm not allowed to go outside of Enthrall. Judging by the look the Elves get when they talk about the outer villages—like they just found a spider in their fermented honey, it could explain why we live a world away on the Common.

In comparison to Numinous, the Common is plain as white bread. Everyone except us are ordinary people. When we're there, we're boring. But here my dad laughs and jokes more, constantly on the move it seems. I'm sure he dreams of staying, but my mother gets agitated and rarely goes much farther than the dwellings in her family compound. Her own parents are gone but she's got tons of relatives.

I sit on a mottled brown boulder to pull on my socks and boots, tucking my pants inside just like my dad does. My mother prefers to wear the traditional long skirt, but I don't. I like what Dad wears, it reminds me of a paratrooper's jumpsuit. Mine is dove gray, form-fitting but not so skin tight that I can't move freely.

There are rock paths leading to the dwellings, which are solidly built of stones in rose petal pink, pale plum and warm lilac. Soothing colors to be sure, but this morning, butterflies invade my stomach despite them, probably because I don't know what to expect when I get to the training spot. The paths are heavily shaded by different kinds of trees. Dogwoods, white birch, lilacs and maples to name a few. A bunch of flowering bushes like rhododendrons and azaleas edge the trails in tight rows as if to keep you from wandering off course.

I follow a route that takes me to the surrounding woods. The crisp air fills my nose and puffs of steam come out of my mouth. I love the tranquil silence. It's almost tangible. Even my footsteps are muffled by the slick leaves and moss on the ground. An intricate spider web hangs between two trees in front of me. Dew sparkles on it like diamonds, bursting into a kaleidoscope of brilliant color when triggered by sunrays. I work my way around it, careful not to disturb the beauty, or the spider in the center. Up ahead there's a doe and two fawns, their freckled tan coats blend with the trees. They turn to stare at me with huge raisin-colored eyes, before moving on. The babies totter on their spindly legs, lifting their feet higher than they really need to, and I laugh out loud.