Arya's POV:

It was late in the noon when the three of them sat under the warm shade of the Oak. Oliver sat on the swing, his midnight smooth hair swaying in the cool wind. His red band shined bright in the light of the sun. Arya and Hunter ate the fresh bread and butter, relaxing on the soft grass which often poked them here and there. It was the food that quenched Hunter's anger and Arya was too happy for that.

Arya saw a strange smile cast upon Oliver's that she did not seem to understand. Oliver was a boy lost in thoughts and his paints, never in girls. But, Arya knew Hunter was not just an ordinary girl and Oliver was not an 'ordinary' boy. Every now and then, he stole quick glances at her friend and that made a frown cast upon Arya's face.

"Oliver, you wanna eat her face?" 

That made another quick blush paint his face, especially because Arya spoke in her normally high audible voice. Hunter glanced at Oliver and shrugged, though Arya didn't miss the slight tilt of her lips.

"I...I just...Well, it's not the right way to speak."

That was one of the reasons Arya and Hunter got along so well. They spoke their mind no matter how harsh it came out.

"Then, why were you stealing glances? You can talk with her. She is right here." Arya said, raising her brows till they formed inverted 'U's, still chewing half a piece of bread.

"Well, you should have asked like this the first time," Oliver said. He stopped swinging and looked at the grass, never raising his eyes.

"Then…"

"Stop it, Arya. Let's get on with the main thing." Hunter had finished eating and was rubbing her hands on the soil to clean them.

Silence fell in the small clearing and the yellow bell of the library shined a bright spot right before them. 

"Oliver wants our help. He says something bad is going to happen to your mother." 

A small piece of bread got stuck inside Arya's throat and she started coughing hard. Hunter quickly gave her water from her pouch. Arya knew Oliver never shared any of his visions with anyone. He was not a socially open lad. Yet he had confessed and she knew the matter was grave.

"Is mother in danger? From whom? Tell me!" Arya cried. Her mother was her only parent. She was both her parents, she was her life. Arya couldn't bare to think of her life if something happened to her.

"That's the reason I'm confessing." Oliver still hadn't looked up. He was staring at the ground, his toes were hastily playing with the grass and his skinny fingers tightly grabbed the swing arms.

Hunter looked at both of them. She sat cross-legged, her leather pants matching those of Oliver's. She didn't want them to have the same fate as hers. "Tell us what you saw."

"If I will tell it, promise to not disturb me. I want to complete it. I don't...wish to repeat it."

Arya and Hunter exchanged glances before nodding their heads.

Oliver continued, "It was the old man with a ghastly red scar across his left cheek. He told me many things, but this was the first thing he ever said." Arya saw the dark bags below his eyes. She pitied him. How much had he suffered? How could he have bared all of that?... "He said… when the smoke is the thickest in the air and the night is the coldest of all, mother would be taken. Taken by death's rider. He says death soon wants a wife to restore his power for the forest and his cycle of life. He wants pure hearts and noble souls. He says she would… die...or be there forever… but I have the power to mend it. "

It was hard to believe what Oliver was saying, yet she knew Oliver. She had known him since he was a little kid pulling her hair. He never lied and never would he tell such a lie. Arya had seen the paint last night and she still felt chills run up her spine and cheeks when she remembered the smoke.

The forest fell quiet again. The sun was now at the far end and dusk was settling in. Hunter never said anything. Perhaps, she was reminded of the night her mother was lost. Dread filled Arya but she knew that staying silent would never help.

"And how would you save her?" 

"I don't know," Oliver said so fast it seemed to get lost in the blowing wind. His gaze was penetrating the many layers of soil. 

Arya seemed to be at a loss of words. She had always despised the forest. She had loathed it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that this probability existed. She wanted to know all its secrets and reveal them to the village, she wanted to go inside there and scream to death that her mother would go nowhere. It was the main reason Arya had joined the library. She wished to know all there was to know of the forest. All there was!  I will see how this rider of death gets my mother! 

"We have to protect her." Hunter said for the first time. Her hands were clawed and her back was unnaturally straight. Her jaw was hard as she gritted her teeth.

"How?" Oliver asked.

"Mr. Hare." She answered. "He is a good man. And well built. He could protect her."

"It's death we are dealing with here. How could he protect her?" Arya asked. It is all a bad dream. Arya repeated in her head.

"Then could we? It's a small safety till Oliver could figure out a way to save her." Hunter said, pointing to Oliver. Her stormy locks glared at her. She could look fiery when she had to but not to Arya. "Oliver, did that old man tell you other things?"

"Yes." He said reluctantly. It was as if he did not wish to remember anymore than what the said. "He said many things… He talked about the Shadow Men, the Fae, the Black women, the Green Boys… and more. I remember the names but I don't remember all the things he said about them… I tried to remove them from my mind. I thought it was all false. But now I know it's true. Its what the Golden Haired boy said." Oliver spoke in a low voice as if he didn't want the others to listen it. But they had. 

"Who is this boy?" asked Arya, as always curious.

"He says he calls himself Prince." Hunter said. Perhaps, Oliver had told her about him in the library. It was a wonder how much he had shared with Hunter.

"Golden hair doesn't make anyone Prince. Why do you trust him?" Hunter asked.

It was Oliver who shrugged this time. "Many things I do on instincts. This is one of them." His small pink lips had been put in a straight line and his black eyes started at Hunter.