Brave.

A coward dies many lifetimes before his end. The boy feels he has experienced many of these deaths already. He recalls, too eagerly, the moments where he had been too scared to act. The most simplistic desire to protect and to provide; insufficient and inadequate for the one he cared for. Fear wedged itself in his soul, shutting his mouth, blocking his eyes. Dawn allowed fear to rule him.

But he was broken. His brows knitted together, his eyes cold as they stared into the floor. What did that mean? Why would she say that? Dawn quickly lifts his head to meet her gaze. The answer she omits from her lips produces a dull, amused response from the boy. One that brings him back to her previous statement. “Brave,” he says. A single word that forms into disbelief stands ahead of a bubbling laugh. But he stops himself from the tumbling chorus with a shaky sigh, briefly glaring at the forest. “You would know brave.” He does not intend to be rude or above her observations. It’s funny to him regardless; what is bravery? To do things in light of overwhelming circumstances; and what circumstances were those? He’d been injured, how could she be so certain of her verdict?

What perception is this? He coos inside his head… a warrior’s observation? Dawn readjusts his breathing pattern, forcing said amusement down his throat. The overwhelming encouragement is beyond recognition. He has lost too much to believe in it. And before his focus can pull him together his voice mumbles. “If survival is a matter of bravery.” Unlike the needy child who might have accepted it, ate it all up and glowed underneath the immediate protection of the Edge, Ysuelte, he curled away instead.

It was nearly over though - this fumbling into the winter wilderness; but each step that brought him closer to this potential paradise burned him with contradictions. “I-“ It sticks against his throat. Walking as she did, until he met her gaze again with defiant eyes. “I thought you would take me. That there would be work for me to do. That I-,” he stops. There’s a rigid shift in his neck, brief, that adjusts his head just so. “I don’t understand.”

When does hope become an impossible thought? What happens when there’s that incredible chance that it might actually be there after all? Dawn, numb as he was to the thought, tensed underneath this growing confusion. At a loss, he steps forwards, pausing for far too long until finally: “Please… excuse me…” Out of habit he bows his head, a regal salute before he starts to run. He knows not where to run, he just, runs; ahead of her and deviating to the right. Dawn’s breathing quickly becomes heavy. Having ignored the pain he thinks he can run forever, but that idea is far from the truth. The energy in his legs feed warmth into him, but he doesn’t have much of it left. It’s not until he’s completely lost himself in the maze of trees and fog that he regrets running in the first place. It is in his fortune that there is a cave, light that flickers and draws him closer.

“I just want- .” He’s talking to himself, to someone. Each step becomes more difficult, and the youth becomes increasingly light headed. Dawn is at the cave’s mouth, not entirely sure if he’s allowed to be there, if they’d kill him for trespassing. Wasn’t he?

You are brave Dawn.

Did she still think that? The ashen youngster allows his limbs to tuck underneath him, thumping against the ground several feet from the fire. His eyes watch it cautiously.

What was her name…?

“Yseulte.”

DAWN