The sun stood high in the sky when Destan shut the door of his cottage behind him. After yesterday's successful hunt, he'd rewarded himself with a sleep-in this morning.

Stepping around the corner towards the forest, he pushed his linen bag into his pocket. Although the rabbit he'd caught took some weight off his shoulders, that didn't mean he could sit around and do nothing all day. As much as he would've liked that for a change.

Just as he entered the forest, Lysander Kardos crossed his path.

"Oh, hello uncle Lys."

"Destan, my boy!" His lips curled into a jovial smile, the little lines beside his eyes deepening.

Despite the man being his uncle, Destan had never been able to see any similarities between them. Destan's hair was black and curly, but his uncle's was chestnut-brown, short and thin, only extended by the scruffy beard on his chin. While Destan had a tendency to hunch over, Lys always stood tall and proud, despite his chubby build. How he managed to be chubby in a tribe that had been struggling to collect enough food for years, was beyond Destan.

"I've been meaning to have a word with you," said uncle Lys, gesturing for him to follow.

Destan opened his mouth to say he was busy, but all that came out was a sigh as he watched his uncle's back retreat. What was the point? Lys was the advisor of the tribe, right-hand man to the Chief. If he wanted something, he'd get it. Gathering berries and nuts will have to wait, he thought as he picked up his pace to follow Lys.

Destan didn't walk through camp very often; he usually stayed near the edge of the forest. Apart from his own house, there was nothing for him in the tribe.

As he passed the cottages, he remembered how he'd always looked up to them, how his dad always used to point out the best ones when he was little. In many ways the buildings were all the same, but the decorations on them distinguished them from one another.

The Massons, who maintained the tribe's icebox to keep the food fresh, had a massive ice sculpture beside their door, which changed shape every now and then. With his magic, Mr Masson re-frosted it every time he passed by, making sure it was always as majestic as it was the day he built it.

The home towards the middle of camp, which they were approaching now, had always been Destan's favourite. It had a vibrant flower out front, which one the owners had grown using their control over plants. It looked nothing like any flower he'd ever seen in the forest, both in size and shape, and the radiant violet colour made it dazzling. It seemed to be a cross between a rose and a lily, with long leaves flowing outward. It was so tall it used to reach up to his dad's shoulders and its sweet, honey-like aroma reached out all over camp. He smiled as they passed by it.

A sudden shiver ran down his spine; two eyes burned into his head. He flinched when he spotted the old woman staring at him through her window. The look of disgust on her face made a sharp contrast with the beautiful flower in front of her home. His smile faded and he kept his eyes on the ground as he trotted after his uncle, making sure to stay a few feet behind him.

Lys' cottage was towards the south of the camp, not far from the Chief's home. It had a roof made of stone with the most beautiful pattern carved into it, making it look like the trunk of a massive, grey tree. Lys had made it himself, using his stone magic.

Destan followed his uncle inside and closed the door behind him. He froze on the doorstep. Uncle Lys was already in the kitchen getting some drinks, but aunt Cerys stared at him as if he'd dragged in a pile of steaming dog poo. The same look the old woman had given him earlier. She sighed heavily.

"Ancestors' sake, Lysander, can you at least warn me next time?"

With one more glare at Destan, she disappeared into the bedroom. A heavy pit settled in his stomach, but uncle Lys pretended he hadn't heard it.

As he waited, he looked out the open wooden window. A flat piece of stone was embedded into the oaken pane, with a flowery pattern carved into it. Lys' living room looked out over the south part of camp, where the fields and farmlands lay. Several tribers were on their knees in the soil, using their powers to grow the wheat and vegetables, but the fields looked barren. Whatever did grow looked small and wilted. It had been that way for years; the soil had lost its richness, its fertility. None of the methods and techniques the farmers tried seemed to be working anymore.

"Ah, yes, the farms," said uncle Lys as he waddled into the living room, two cups in his hands. "They're starting to become a real problem. With the farm not yielding much and the forest thinning out... Well. That's for us leaders to figure out."

He grinned and Destan had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. Uncle Lys never passed up an opportunity to point out that he was the Chief's right hand.

"Sit down, boy, sit down," he bellowed.

As Destan slunk into the stool nearest to the door, his uncle handed him a cup of blackberry juice. What a waste to make juice out of them, he couldn't help but think.

"So, tell me, how have you been?"

He took a sip before answering, mentally preparing to make it sound convincing. "I'm fine," he lied, not taking his eyes off his drink.

"And your mum? How is she?" uncle Lys continued.

Destan shrugged. "Same as always. She had something to eat this morning."

"Good," Lys bellowed. "Good! I'm glad to hear that. Who knows, she might still have it in her to come back to us. You never know."

Destan very much doubted that his mum would ever go back to the way she was years ago, when he was a kid, but he smiled politely anyway.

"She used to be great at what she did, you know, your mum was. Strength of a hundred horses, that woman. She was part of the reason the tribe prospered back then. Such a shame what happened to her."

"Yeah," Destan mumbled. "Yeah, it is."

"We'll have to wait and see, won't we, boy?" he leaned forward and set his mug down on the table. "Listen, I was talking to Aruna earlier and she mentioned you."

Destan's eyes widened a fraction. "She did?"

"Hm, yes," said uncle Lys, standing up to pace across the room. "You haven't been training with her, have you?"

Destan gulped, picking on the ends of his sleeves. Was he not meant to? It was her idea! "Uh, well, she trained me yesterday... I didn't ask, I swear! She came to me."

Uncle Lys hummed and stopped with his back to Destan, staring out of the window.

Scrap, I didn't realise I wasn't supposed to agree to the training, he thought as he waited nervously for his uncle to respond. His head between his shoulders, he stared up at his uncle. The silence stretched until Destan let out a nervous hiccup.

"Well," said uncle Lys suddenly, turning and waving his hand in a flourish. "I'm sure it's nothing. It just got me worried, you know?"

"Why?"

"Why? Think, boy! Because of your status of course. You're already an outcast. Do you want it to get even worse?"

Worse? Was that even possible? People already ignored him like he didn't exist, scowled at him as if he were nothing but a slug. Except for his mum, Aruna and uncle Lys, he hadn't exchanged a single word with another triber in months, and the last time someone talked to him was a bunch of kids calling him names and laughing at him. On top of that, he wasn't allowed in the icebox to get food like the rest of the tribe. Apart from being allowed to live on the edge of camp, he was to fend for himself.

But there was, of course, one thing worse than being an outcast.

"Chief wouldn't banish me for training with Aruna, would he?" Destan asked quietly, eyebrows knitted together.

"He might. Who knows?" Lys shrugged. "He hasn't banished anyone in over twenty years, but your old pops doesn't exactly have a soft spot for you, after... Well..."

Destan turned his head away, staring at the wooden floor. His granddad, Chief of the tribe, hadn't said a word to him ever since his dad had passed away. He must've missed him as much as Destan did.

Banishment was unthinkable. The single worst punishment a triber could get. Whereas an outcast wasn't seen as part of the tribe, he was still allowed to live in the camp. He still had a cottage. If he was banished, he'd be sent away, forbidden from living among the camp. With no place to live, and a whole world full of Inops and ancestors know what else out there, he had no way to survive.

"Would it really be so bad, though?" uncle Lys mused, making him look up in surprise. He stood right in front of Destan now, looking down with a frown on his face. "It's been ten years, boy. Are you really happy here? Remus might not have banned you, but that doesn't mean you can't just... leave."

His heart leaped to his throat with the words and he jumped up. "Leave? And go where? I have no idea what's out there!"

Just as Lys opened his mouth to speak, the front door swung open. A girl several years younger than Destan, her hair hanging in thick crimson locks down her shoulders and a little amethyst charm around her neck, stepped into the living room. Her face fell as soon as her eyes landed on her cousin. He quickly averted his gaze, staring down at the half-empty juice cup.

"Tari! Your mum's in the other room, darling."

"Actually, I think I'll go and find Lorus. See you tonight, dad."

"See what I mean?" said Lys as the door slammed shut behind his daughter.

Destan didn't look up. Shame crawled up his cheeks as he turned away from his uncle.

"It's been ten years, boy. With every passing day it'll get harder for you to redeem yourself. Why haven't you yet?"

"I tried!" said Destan, throwing his hands up in the air. "The forest is so empty I can barely find enough food for me and mum, most of the time. How am I supposed to fill the icebox, when there's simply nothing left out there?"

Uncle Lys nodded along with his words. "I understand, I understand. But don't you see? The forest is thinning. It's only going to get harder, not easier. I heard there's more tribes like ours to the north. Maybe you could be happier there."

Destan hesitated at that tidbit of knowledge. "There are?"

"Yes!" said his uncle, sitting up straighter. "Several of them, apparently. Perhaps they wouldn't mind taking in a teenage boy."

But he soon sagged in his stool and sighed. "I can't, uncle. My family is here. I can't just leave."

Lys' eyes narrowed as he stared at Destan. "Your family... You mean your mum?"

And Julia... Though he would never say those words out loud. "Yes. And you," he added as an afterthought.

A scowl flashed across uncle Lys' face before he caught himself. "You really don't have to stay here for me, boy." He cleared his throat. "I just want you to be happy."

"I know. But banishment is a terrifying thought. Besides, I have to stay for mum. I'm all she has left."

I have to stay. For mum and for Julia. I'll never be happy without my family.