It's great that I went to bed early because I'm wide awake before the sun comes up the next morning. Again, it has to do with me being a morning bird so, thankfully, my body doesn't feel like it's dying a slow, arduous death.

Even though it is the wee hours of the morning, I'm not as concerned about not waking Marlowe and Eathelin since they're young and they're probably going to stay knocked out cold.

Though I'm rearing to go, Elle and Olivos aren't even up when I creep into the main room- understandable since I got up at an ungodly hour to get ready. So to pass the time, I nod off in a chair while I wait for them to wake up.

"Joan?"

I'm woken out of my light sleep by Oslen's hoarse voice. Wiping the drool from my cheek, I straighten up and yawn. "Yeah?"

He steps into view, holding a candlestick which he sets aside.

"What are you doing up so early?"

"I needed to get ready to leave."

"So soon?"

"There's no time to waste."

I search through the satchel, making sure I have everything needed for this little adventure to this Sephora woman's house or whatever.

"Are you sure you don't need to eat before you depart?"

"No, mom, I'll be fine. I'll pack something for the road if it makes you feel any better."

He watches me as I keep to my word and fill my satchel with some portable snacks of fruit and figs.

"What are you doing up so early?" I ask him, realizing he seems wide awake.

"I heard you in here and was curious," He gives me a once over. "Are those the same garments you've been wearing the last few days?"

"Uh, yeah, what's it to ya?"

Squinting his eyes, he replies, "Is it customary where you're from to sport the same attire without making sure it's properly washed?"

"Well, if you want me to change you didn't have to sound so bougie about it."

"I wasn't trying to imply anything," He rushes. "I simply was observing-"

"If it annoys you then do something about it. I just don't find dresses the most practical wear for situations like these."

He blinks.

"You prefer wearing men's pants?"

"Well, actually, I found these in the women's section, but yeah, I'm cool with guy's pants."

Shifting on his feet, he glances around.

"I might have some pants which may suit you."

Okay, now we're talking.

"Really?" I'm intrigued. "That would be great."

He's already heading down the hall to his room, waving me on as I follow behind.

His room is nothing more than a glorified closet with a lone window. Harry Potter's room had more space than his sorry excuse of a bedroom where the bed just about takes up the whole room.

"Forgive me for the tight quarters," He mutters as we squeeze our way around to the other lone piece of furniture in this closet, the clothes chest.

"How do you manage in here?" I ask, hopping up on the bed to save walking space.

"I find it quaint enough for me."

I watch him rummage through the chest, pulling out a few articles of clothing before presenting me with some pants. Getting to work, I sort through the ones I assume will and won't fit me, tossing back the ones I know won't.

"Yeah, these should work," I hold up the plain brown, calf's skin pair.

Nodding, as he puts away the remaining clothes, he replies.

"Let's hope."

Without an inch of hesitation, I whip off my own pants and start to change into the new ones right then and there. Oslen doesn't notice this until he turns around and practically jumps up on the chest, startled like he's seen a roach.

"Calm down," I grin. "You'll wake the whole house up."

Even in the weak morning light, I can see the blush creeping through his face, making his face appear like a tomato- it's so amusing, watching his reactions.

"I-I'm s-sorry, I'll ex-excuse-"

Waving him off, I pull up the pants.

"There's no need to act weird about it."

He's at such a loss for words, it's adorable.

"Have you no shame?" He shields his eyes.

I have to finesse to get into these pants, but on the bright side, they'll make my calves look amazing.

"What do I have to be ashamed of? I'm not naked."

"B-b-but-"

Laughing, I button the pants.

"There, you cool now?"

He's still speechless, frozen with a dumb look on his face before I start snapping my fingers in his face. For some reason, he grows upset at me, swatting my hand away then trying to shuffle out of the tight room, but this room is too damn small and he ends up tripping, allowing me to look down at him from the bed with an entertained expression.

"What's wrong?" I coo.

He starts to get up. "You're very lewd."

"And you're much too shrewd. See, it rhymes."

He's not the least bit amused with me.

"You're inappropriately brash, you know."

Lying on my back, staring upside down at him, my hair hanging over the edge of the bed, I guess I can appear rather immature but, eh, I'm only fourteen- what does he expect?

I can tell my actions have upset him, though, so before he can storm out, I pull on his arm to hold him back.

"Okay, okay, I'm done playing. Are you cool? Are you with me again? Look, that's just who I am- I'm out there. Sorry if I offended you."

Crossing his arms over his chest, he gives me a pointed look.

"I'm simply not accustomed to girls like yourself. Excuse my asking, but how do your parents handle you?"

"I'm honestly not like this around them. I mean, I'm still out there but I don't act as off-the-wall around them, but they know I'm a piece of work; they love me anyway."

Arching an eyebrow at me, he replies, "What about your brother? You seem to withhold your true colors from him."

Minding my volume, I laugh uncontrollably at that assumption.

"Ah, you haven't been around us long enough. I'm ten times worse with my brother around me."

"Well, then forget I brought it up at all."

Sheesh, he still sounds rather miffed at me.

"Sure, but, I'm not trying to be offensive, that's just how I am."

He studies me for a second before replying-

"We should return to the other room."

"Bet."

I follow him out of the cramped space back into the main room where a few dawning rays of light have emerged from the shadows. Thankfully, the rising sun seems to have brought out Elle and Olivos, both surprised to see us awake so early (not even noting that the two of us just came from Oslen's room. I'm just saying, my parents would have been hella suspicious).

"Okay," I'm rearing to go. "How do I get to this Sephora woman's house?"

"It can be a confusing journey if you take even the slightest turn off the path," Olivos says. "So you must follow precisely how it is laid out."

"Will do. Now, where do I begin?"

"I will write down a rough description of the journey," He explains, getting up to go scribble down some notes for me.

Meanwhile, Elle frets over me going off by myself. I'm trying to reassure her that I'm perfectly capable of getting there myself without tripping over a log and breaking my neck.

"They raised you to be so independent- your parents," She marveled.

Independent, reckless, both the same in my book.

Oslen has started going about his usual morning routine while Marlowe and Eathelin rise soon after. Marlowe, straight out of the gates, is right on my level- or at least close.

"I thought you were supposed to be gone on your adventure," She comments, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"Trying to get rid of me so soon? Well, your dad is making a map for me so I don't wander off a cliff."

"But you still might."

"Still might what?"

"Wander off a cliff."

"Why do you say that?"

Her small gap between her front teeth is showing as she grins. "You just don't seem to have your wits about you all the time."

Chuckling, I shoot back with a fabulous toss my locks, "Well, you know I'm going to fall in style, and when I do I'm going to scream your name on the way down."

This girl's a trip. She smiles right back at me and replies, "Make sure you scream it loud enough for me to hear all the way from here."

"You got it."

We chuckle as Olivos comes back in the room with a piece of paper- the old looking, thick kind- with dark ink scribbled all over it.

"I drew out the roads as best as my memory could serve me," He presents the map to me. "In short, you need only take a few roads to arrive at her residence."

Unscrolling the paper, I inspect...and Jesus help me.

What the f-

God, and I thought my dad's handwriting was too rich- at least his words looked like words! There is not a single word- or rather, doodle because it is doodling at this point- that I can decipher. Thomas freakin' Jefferson would be struggling to read this script. What kind of penmanship class do they teach around here?

I have two choices now. Either, point out my uncultured eyes can't read a damn letter on his map or pretend I completely understand this calligraphy crap just to leave this house with what little natural dignity I bestow.

It's so clear what choice I'm going to go with that if someone picked the opposite choice I'd have to question their mental state.

"Thanks," I fold back up the map. "This'll be useful."

"Are you certain you will be okay traveling alone?" He asks concerned.

"Yeah, I'm armed, remember?"

Elle nods, not really satisfied though. "Yes..."

"How are you going to defend yourself with a sword that doesn't even have a point?" Marlowe pipes up.

Marlowe, always keeping it real.

"Um, the edges are still sharp- I'll cut them."

Not one of them gives me a look that read of their confidence in me. Suddenly, like a ghost out of nowhere, Oslen, who has apparently come back in, interrupts with a suggestion of his own.

"You could always sharpen it down to create a new point."

Snapping my fingers, I point to him.

"Now that's an idea."

"We could take it to the blacksmith's," Elle says.

Making a face, I ask, "How long will take that?"

"We could do the task ourselves," Oslen suggests.

He's being very agreeable today which is nice- shows I haven't offended him past the point of liking me.

"That sounds more like it," I get to my feet. "Let's get grinding."

Following him outside to the back where the chicken coup and garden is, he takes me to some small shack (because it can't be called a shed really) and gets out what looks like a mini version of one of those grinding mill things that you sharpen swords on- the one where the sparks fly from it.

"Are you sure this won't take long?" I ask him as I eye the crude machine skeptically. "I have a schedule to keep."

"I promise you it won't. Let me see the sword."

When I pass the sword to him, he takes an unnecessary moment to study it in further detail, clearly impressed with it. He can be enthralled with it later, right now is not the time.

Clearing my throat gets his attention and head back on task.

Peddling the low tech machine, he lets it gain speed before lower the sword on the stone and applying pressure. The movies weren't lying either, sparks really do fly. He spends several minutes peddling and sharpening until pausing to address me.

"Would you mind pressing the peddle for me while I go?"

"Sure."

He scoots over some as I get to peddling.

"I'm about to show you what army strong looks like," I smirk.

Barely giving a mutter in reply, we go at it in silence like a team until he tells me I can stop while he inspects the new blade.

Satisfied with his progress, he presents it to me.

"It's shorter than before but it ought to do the job."

Shorter? Might as well call it a dagger! This kid doesn't know how to blacksmith apparently. Hell, a blind man could do better! Not only is it severely shorter- to the point where I'd have to be right up on my opponent- it's also a little crooked and shaved down more on one side than the other.

Despite it all, it's the thought that counts...right?

"Thanks, this is...better."

Sarcasm must be one of those foreign languages here like it is in my church because it flies right over his poor, golden boy head. In fact, he looks mighty pleased with himself.

"Really? Thank you. When I was younger, and even now, I wished to be a blacksmith."

To be a bitch or not to be a bitch, that is the question.

"Well, we all have dreams. Yeah, dreams."

Leaving it at that, I take my dagger-sword back to the house where I collect my satchel and prepare to depart at last. They're so sweet here- like a 50's ideal couple- sending me off with warm goodbyes and all of them crowding outside the front door, watching me start my adventure with my crap map and crooked dagger sword.

"It was such an honor to meet you," Elle just about hugs the life from my body. "I still cannot believe I had the opportunity to meet you. Give your parents- especially your mother- our best and warmest regards."

"Will do." If I survive step one.

After that, I breeze past my farewells with the Verith children; Camus and Eathelin aren't broken up about my leaving, it's mainly Oslen and Marlowe who express their remorse at my going.

"Remember to scream," Marlowe reminds me.

I grin. "I have an elephant's memory, I can't forget."

Coming to Oslen, I hold out my hand, which he stares at like it's a foreign gesture.

"Look, I'm not much of a hugger."

Finally, he gains some brain cells and shakes my hand, but doesn't say much else to me. Surprisingly, he looks rather sad to see me go. That's just the impact I leave. It doesn't matter whether you hate me or love me, you end up missing me for one reason or another- whether that be someone to laugh with or yell at, you'll miss me.

With the goodbyes done and over with, I get on my way, not wasting another second.

Already, with the house out of view and left alone with nothing but my thoughts and a map I can't read, there's a sprinkle of doubt in me whether or not I'll actually find the woman I need. It's pretty easy to say you'll accomplish something but it's an entirely different matter actually tackling that issue; hence, I fall into my first vice: overcompensating.

My thoughts process over the span of fifteen minutes: Well, sucks that I don't have anywhere to crash for the night. I wonder how long this will take. Fuck this map. There is like nobody on this road- is this the right road? How am I already hungry? Fuck this map. Maybe this Sephora chick is a psychic and already knows I'm coming. Am I lost? Yeah, I'm getting peckish. Fuck this map.

All in the span of fifteen minutes- all of that.

It's only worth imagining what my thoughts are as I near the first-hour mark. My feet ache, I feel like some drifting dust particle, I haven't found a cliff to fall off of yet, and my fast metabolism has ensured that only crumbs remain of my snacks. It's joyous, it really is; I haven't had this much fun since that road trip to the Grand Canyon.

Once my just-a-fuck meter has expired, I forget all about looking at that map for a reference on how to get there- I soon just trust my instincts. The road is mainly straight, and the turns that do show up, I take by the cuff and go whichever way I'm feeling more.

At this point, the results of success I'm weighing my actions by is the fact that I haven't fallen off a cliff yet (or perished at all).

Despite my self-doubt, I keep heading onward to some unknown destination until arriving at a clearing with a well off to the side. Being pretty thirsty, I decide to draw up some water for myself and take a break in the shade.

Thankfully, there's already a bucket tied to the end of the rope so all I have to do is draw it up. It's rewarding being able to sit back and take a long drink of the cold water after traveling for a while.

Pulling out the paper, I give it one last look before balling it up and tossing it behind me into the well. Being a makeshift basketball- that's been its only useful purpose.

I wonder what Nora's doing right now. Does time even work the same here? What time is it exactly? Does anyone ever travel this God-forsaken road?

I only realize I proclaimed that last part aloud when I hear a gasp, followed by a bucket dropping, behind me. On edge, I leap to my feet, rearing for some swordplay, only to be disappointed when the "opponent" I face is merely a woman with cosplay color hair (you know, the unnatural looking kind) who looks startled by me.

Recovering from the surprise, she clears her throat. "Oh, you had me frightened."

"Same," I reply, putting my weapon away, disappointed to not have been able to use it- I mean, she doesn't seem like a threat.

Reassured, she goes to lower the bucket into the well. Since I'm not looking for small talk, I-

"I've never seen you around these parts before. Are you new to this area?"

Fuck.

"Just passing through."

"Oh."

Good, she's lost interest. Now I can go back to thinking in the shade and collecting my-

"You must be from quite a ways. Forgive my assumptions if you are not."

Come on, lady! I'm just trying to relax here!

Hopefully, my noticeable sigh will signal her in.

"You could say that."

She's not drawing up the water fast enough for me. "What province are you from?"

"You know, I'm not really supposed to be talking to strangers."

Glancing up at me, she simply replies with an "Oh".

"Yeah."

If she hasn't caught onto my subtle hints yet, I fling myself back down, out of view from behind the well and resume my focus. Several seconds pass by before I hear her finish getting her water to fill up her jug, meaning she's about to leave.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," She apologizes.

Not bothering to move from my spot, I remain silent- anything might encourage her to stay and converse further.

At long last, she finally begins to walk away until I no longer hear her anywhere close by.

Thank Jesus.

Bit of a prick? Yeah, but I need some time to myself in order to figure out where to go next in order to find this woman. Looking back on it now, I realize I should have asked the lady that I shooed away a second ago, but my main concern was getting her to leave.

"Alright," I get to my feet. "Time to finish tracking this Sephora person down."

Brent is in trouble and there's no time to rest. The best don't rest until the deed is done and the war is won.