I was five when my house burned down. It had been an ordinary day: sunny and full of smiles. My mother had sent me out to draw water from the well in our village.

We lived on the outskirts of the kingdom, the small space that divided the kingdom from the forests around us. Even as a child I hadn't been afraid of the forest. The elders would warn us to stay out of the forests for dangerous beasts roamed there, eager for the flesh of little children. Those stories had never bothered me because my parents weren't afraid of the forest, either. My father taught me how to stay silent and, young as I was, I was eager to learn. He would take me to watch rabbits feed and birds nest if I was silent enough. We never ventured very deep into the forests, but nonetheless, the thrill of blending with the trees never faded. My mother taught me which herbs were alright to eat and which ones would deceive you. Needless to say, I got poisoned often. She would also send me occasionally to pluck fruits and gather flowers from which she would make sweet syrup.

The well was in the center of the village and I lugged our pail to the line of people there already and struck up a conversation with an older lady.

I was returning to my house, trying desperately not to slop water all over myself, when I saw the smoke. It was coming from the general direction of my house, but I was not overly worried. Peoples dry hay caught fire all the time.

The dying sun cast a morose glow over the sky.

It was only after I got closer that I saw which house it was. It took a moment for my innocent mind to comprehend what was happening. Then I darted forward, the pail of water hitting the ground with a force that threw the water out of it.

A mass of people had gathered around the house, but no one did anything. They stood infuriatingly still, watching as the fire took everything away from me. I scanned the crowd frantically, looking for the two faces I desperately wanted to see.

That's when I heard the screams. A high, grating sound that clawed the inside of my skull. It was coming from inside the house. The sound cut through the roar of fire and crawled into my ears, reverberating until I couldn't hear anything else. Hands held me back. I kicked and bit, clawed and struggled to go inside, to save them, but the others wouldn't let me. I remember screaming at them to let me go. I could save my parents. I had to save my parents.

It took hours for the fire to die down. The villagers couldn't get a word out of me. All I could hear were the dying screams of my parents.

I had been steered away by the good people and wrapped securely in a blanket. Perhaps they thought it could shield me from the world for just a little while. Someone even offered me warm milk that grew cold in my tiny hands. They had managed to put out the fire. By then it was too late. I suppose it had always been too late.

I do not remember the rest of the day, but I do remember that a kind woman took me in for the night. She tucked my numb body under a multitude of warm blankets and gave me a comfortable pillow.

I couldn't get any sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes I would see the fire curl hungrily towards the sky, as if waiting to devour the stars. Every time I closed my eyes, piercing screams would make me snap them open again.

Perhaps it is because I was so young and uneducated about the dangers of the world, or perhaps it was the molten rage and cold fear that were flowing in my veins that made me decide I could stay there no longer. I snuck away in the dead of night, armed with only a dagger I had found and the clothes on my back, and slipped into the forest. Something about the echoing silence of the trees and the mournful solitude of the wind made it easier for me to sleep there.

That was the last those villagers saw of me.

For a long time I blamed them for the death of my parents, but as time passed, I realized they could not have done anything. Maybe if we had been better fed and equipped someone could have saved my parents. Everyone in the village was thin, if not frail. Nobody had the strength to run inside a burning house and carry out two people.

It was only later that I came to understand that the anger I had felt that night had not been directed at the villagers. Even then a small part of me had known who had been the cause of the fire.

When I had been there, shouting my throat hoarse and bathing my face in my tears, I had noticed a silhouette. It was framed against the sinking sun, on a nearby hill. Even from where I stood, I could make out the cold glint in his eyes, made warm by the fire. He sat on a horse, his structure perfectly carved. The dying light glanced off his armour. He watched as the house burnt and nodded once to himself before disappearing under the crest.

People told me that night not to blame myself for my parents' death. I didn't.

I blamed the king.

...

It was only two years later that I ran into the rebels.

By then, Nature had toned me. The first few weeks in the forest had been a nightmare. I quickly found out that the forests weren't as forgiving as my father had made me believe. Each step had to be taken with caution. Docile-looking leaves could welt your skin and leave your feet itching for days.

I cried myself to sleep every night until one day I told myself that my parents were not there to get me out of this. I had to do this on my own. I had to learn and accept the fact that I had a harsher teacher.

I learned fast, fuelled as I was by bitterness. That was all the emotion I would give way for. I shoved sorrow and agony somewhere down and allowed myself only to feel anger and, at times, wonder. As taxing as Nature was, She still allowed for you to appreciate the things She had to offer. Since I was a child, wonder was easy to come by.

I became lithe and nimble. The dagger was my best friend, the trees my bodyguards and the wind my messenger. I knew which plants to eat and what berries to pick. I knew which flowers would leave a nasty scent on your fingers and which ones hid your body odour. By the end of my first year, I could tell plants apart by feel.

I occasionally chanced on wanderers. A few brave people would camp in the forest for a few days, either because they wanted to take a shorter route to somewhere or the simply enjoyed the thrill. I never did anything to hurt them. I only stole a bit of food and a few of the more harmful weapons. Some of the animals were kind and I did not want them to get injured.

By the end of two years, I had become something feral. I had observed the hunting patterns of various beasts and the way they track their food. I realized early on that I did not have a stomach for meat. The very idea of killing something for food made me squeamish. But I did need something to satisfy my hunger and I gathered fruits, roots, leaves, anything that did not require me to kill.

It was no surprise the boy jumped as high as he did when he saw me. I would have, too, if I had seen a girl with eyes as wild as her hair.

I hadn't noticed him and was equally started, but I had learned to school my expressions. Most of my fighting techniques had been from observing animals. The first rule was to never let your fear show.

Before the boy had recovered, I had my dagger at his throat.

"Who are you?" I hissed, my mouth forming the words with difficulty. It had been a while since I had spoken in more than just shouts and grunts.

The boy was a year older than me with tousled black hair and green eyes.

"K-Kirin," he managed.

"What are you doing here?"

"We just wanted a place to camp."

"We?" I said. "More people?"

He nodded. "I was scouting."

"What for?"

"To check if there were animals around."

My grip on the dagger tightened. "Why?"

"So we won't get attacked at night."

Satisfied, I lowered my blade and nodded once.

He blinked. "You're letting me go?"

I nodded again.

He hesitated. "You could come with me."

I did a double take. "What?"

"You could come. Do you have friends? You can bring them, too."

I shook my head. "No, no friends."

"That's alright. You can come with me and stay with us. We'll give you food and clothes. I can be your friend."

This time I hesitated. I didn't trust him, but something about him was so innocent and his child-like curiosity entrapped me. "Okay."

He smiled then, a bright smile with all teeth showing. I smiled back. He took my hand and led me to their camp. "Hey, what's your name?"

"Thalia."

...

My arrival at the rebel camp had thrown everything in a flurry. People argued and people whispered. I resented it immediately. I found comfort in the fact that Kirin had stood stubbornly by my side, not letting go of my hand.

Finally, a man with a grotesque face asked me to accompany him to his tent. Kirin nodded encouragingly and I followed him.

The tent was small and the man sat down on a bed, gesturing for me to do likewise. I remained standing, eliciting a smile from him.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Thalia," I said.

"Where are your parents?"

"Dead."

"Why were you in the forest?"

"I live there."

There was a pause.

"What happened to your face?"

The man laughed. "I got burned."

"Why would you burn your face?"

"I didn't do it, someone else did."

"My parents died in a fire."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"It was not your fault. The king did it."

That caught the man's interest. "The king did it?"

"He burned my house," I said with conviction.

"How do you know that?"

"I saw him. He was watching us. I'm going to burn him like he burnt my parents."

Something so serious coming out of the mouth of a little girl must have surprised him greatly, yet he did not show it. Instead, he offered me his hand.

"My name is Larkin."

I shook it.

"We are rebels," he said. "Do you know who a rebel is?"

I shook my head no.

"We do not like the king either. In a few years, we plan on taking him down. Do you want to join us?"

My eyebrows rose. "You want to kill the king, too?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," he said.

"Will I get food?" I asked hesitantly.

Larkin smiled again. "You'll be well fed and we'll give you a place to stay and some new clothes. What do you say?"

I agreed.

That night I had the first full meal I had had in years. I fell asleep feeling warm and fuzzy.

Kirin and I were the only ones of nearly the same age, so we ended up sticking with each other. We trained together and got our schooling done together as well. We were glued to the hip.

Larkin was a surprisingly kind man. He was firm but gentle and cared for us all like a father. He was the leader of the rebel camp and nobody seemed bothered with it.

The camp held around thirty people and we became our own family. Each of them had their own tales to add to the disaster Aaron had caused during his rule and each story was as revolting as the next.

We travelled from one place to another, never staying in one area for more than five days. Occasionally we'd find shelter in people's houses or someone would be kind enough to lend us their shed for the night. All the time, we were formulating a plan to take the king down.

I stayed with them for eleven years, growing up to be a pretty lady who was not very slim. The rebels insisted my hair grow out until it was halfway down my back. The muscles on my arms flexed when I sparred. My stomach was not perfectly curved, seeing as a strong core was essential for a fighter. Even my legs looked like they'd been drawn in angles rather than curves.

Throughout the eleven years, Kirin stuck by my side and I by his. The bond we had formed as children didn't waver. We were closer to each other than we had ever been. It had gotten to the point where I couldn't even eat without him being there with me. We were as co-dependant of each other as we were independent of everyone else.

Once our day of training had finished, we would go for a long run around the place we had set camp and find a high rise, rock or tree to sit on and watch the sunset. I treasured those moments because there was nothing to disturb us for a while and we would sit and let the quiet set in. As the days grew more and more tiresome, we found ourselves putting more and more distance from us and the camp. It was our way of telling ourselves we were our own people and that our sole purpose was not just to destroy the king.

The last day I spent peacefully with him was my last day at camp, though neither of us knew it at that time.

We were miles from the camp, our sore feet dipped in the waters of a lake we had found. I was leaning against his shoulder and he had an arm wrapped around my waist, bringing to life the annoying butterflies that had grown in my stomach a few years ago.

Kirin was the first to break the silence.

Everyone thought I had grown up pretty, but nobody looked at Kirin. If I was pretty, then Kirin was prince charming. His hair was longer than when I had first met him and ruffled with care. His bright green eyes glinted distractingly, the gold flecks in them trapping the sunlight. High cheekbones and a firm nose gave him the appearance of royalty, but then he would give you a crooked grin that would make you change your mind instantly.

That day he looked extra handsome, the sunset doing wonders for his eyes.

He took a deep breath. "They finished the plan."

I sat up straight. He smiled wryly at my reaction. "They're going to tell us about it tonight."

I felt as though something ominous was beginning. "Wow," I breathed.

It had taken them years to formulate and perfect the plan, polishing it, smoothing out the edges and throwing so many bits out that there were times we wondered if it would ever some together at all.

"What do you think it will be?" I asked.

"I do not know," he shook his head.

I leaned back on my elbows, legs still swishing in the water. "If we do survive this, then what?"

"I was thinking," began Kirin and I groaned comically. "Shut up," he said. "I was thinking, perhaps we could start a bookshop together, or find a place in a far away hill and live there for the rest of our lives."

I ignored the butterflies that flapped frantically when he said 'our lives'. "A bookshop?" I laughed.

"Both of us like books, it's only rational."

"I would like that. Of course, that's only if we don't get exiled or die tragically."

Kirin grinned. "It would be nice if we didn't die tragically. If we did get exiled, we'd just have to go to another kingdom."

"Yes, just overthrow another monarch and we'll be fine."

Kirin laughed. "What's another king?"

"What's another king?" I echoed.

The silence that stretched between us wasn't exactly uncomfortable, but I was glad for the noise Kirin made while rummaging through his pockets.

"I have something for you," he said.

I pushed myself up. "What?" I asked, curious. I didn't receive many gifts and wasn't the type to care much for them.

Kirin pulled out a silver chain from his pocket and I gasped. I wasn't much for jewelry but this was the single most perfect thing I had seen in my life.

"Oh, you shouldn't have," I said.

The chain itself was slender, made out of interlocking silver links. On it hung a single emerald, half as big as my thumb. It was pressed into a flat plate of silver. The emerald glinted with threads of gold.

"It's beautiful!" I exclaimed. "Where did you get it from?"

Kirin squirmed. "The market."

"The market!" I cried. "What were you thinking? Somebody could have seen you." The market was the most crowded place in any town or village and we had been heavily forbidden from going there since we might be recognized.

"Relax, it was completely fine. The only person who saw me was the shop owner and he didn't even see my face. I was covered from head to toe."

I huffed, but couldn't stay mad at him. He grinned as a smile formed on my lips.

"Here." He unclasped the necklace and leaned forward. I ducked my head slightly and felt the cold metal settle on my neck as he fastened it. His neck pressed against mine.

He sat back, trailing the chain in his fingers before letting go. I looked down at it and couldn't help thinking what a striking resemblance it had to his eyes.

"It's lovely," I said. "Thank you."

"You look beautiful," he said, with no hint of teasing in his voice.

I looked up. He was sitting cross-legged, with his knees touching mine. We were so close I could feel the heat radiating off his body. I wanted to look away, but those gold-flecked eyes seemed to draw me in. The butterflies in my stomach had grown to elephants that were causing an all-out stampede. My breathing grew deep and my heart raced in my chest. Without meaning to, I leaned forward.

His lips captured mine and the fire that shot through my veins should have made me explode. The kiss was gentle and tender. I felt like I was flying and sinking at the same time. We were the only two people in the world, but I was extra aware of the grass the pricked my feet and the sighing of the wind. I could feel the weight of the necklace on my skin and the way the leaves laughed. I had never been so empty and so whole.

We pulled away and for a moment we didn't know what to do. Then, as if choreographed, we burst into laughter.

It seemed so ridiculous that after all this time, we finally gave truth to our feelings. All these years we had been dancing around each other, darting just out of reach, afraid of the other and still wanting to get close. It's surprising, really, how we had moulded our actions to suit the other person. We had become who we were for the other person, our personalities fashioned to the other's liking. Every moment we had spent with each other had only deepened the unspoken love and in a way we already knew we loved each other before we even consciously let it show.

Our entire friendship had been woven with our love for each other as the base. If anything, the kiss gave us a sort of closure. We had known for a long time that we were in love with each other and it was silly, really, how long it had taken us to acknowledge it.

That night, after dinner, I had been summoned to Larkin's tent. Before sunrise the next day, I left the camp, never to return.

That was six months ago.