"I warned you, Aurora. Strength isn't everything," the man said, "Take a deep breath. You must know when to pull. Just pointless strength will not get you anywhere," the man added, his little eyes, blue light peeking through each one, following the girl to the edge of the boat.

The boat was rolling. The girl's fingers swelled as she closed them tighter around the fishing rod. She could barely keep her arms standing still and sweat dripped down her forehead. The man's hoarse voice had scared away the black-feathered and white-beaked birds, which had been flapping their wings beside the boat's head for a while. As soon as they took off, he straightened out the straw clothes that had been splashed by the water and kept his gaze on the child, sighing.

"I know, Bardolph. I know, but this is a big one," she said.

"Aurora, you always say that," the man told her and chuckled, "do you need help?

"No, never. I'll do it alone. I've been training to get stronger. I'll be the strongest one in town. Someday I'll be like those legendary cultivators you always tell me about," Aurora replied, ginger hair fluttering over her shoulders.

"Just focus on this. Don't be silly," Bardolph replied, raising his voice.

The wind breeze was gentle. The sun glistened and mirrored its long silver arms across the river. Fish moved in groups, at times leaping before Aurora, almost as if they were making fun of her;

She, who spent four afternoons a week there, trying her luck. Few were the days when she succeeded in catching something, and, yet, she had never given up.

"Yes, yes. I’m close. I can feel it," Aurora said. The voice was now muffled. It slipped between the gnashing teeth, the few muscles she had almost tearing the seams of her old clothes. They used to belong to old Bardolph, her adoptive father and had then passed to her less than a year ago.

As usual, Aurora felt an odd sensation scattering throughout her body. She had never told anyone that, for fear of what her friends or parents would think. She dismissed it, convincing herself that it was just her bones aching. Her swollen fingers slipped down the wooden reed, the already loose splinters scraping her skin. The fish pulled the hook, and Aurora pulled it with all the strength she had, screaming into nothingness, already with one of her legs on top of the wooden structure. Bardolph remained seated, slicing an apple, using his favorite knife: light brown handle and a sharp curved blade, the scratches on the metal reminiscent of a centennial trunk.

The fish flew over her body before finally landing on the boat floor. It was flailing, trying to get back in the water, life being sucked out of it. Aurora watched it for a few seconds before picking it up and throwing it back into the water. She couldn’t stand still while the fish shivered, closer to dying each passing second.

Bardolph raised his right eyebrow.

"I should not have done that, right?" Aurora asked, avoiding looking at Bardolph.

"Don't you tell me... It was our dinner," the old man replied, "you're lucky I'd already caught a few," he said, and glanced at the bucket whose bottom was already impossible to see, covered by the gray scales of a dozen fish.

"So, it didn't make any difference, right?" Aurora asked him, her face drenched in sweat, yet never losing her smile.

"It does, but it doesn't matter either. At least you want to protect them... I mean, forget it," Bardolph replied.

"What were you going to say?" Aurora asked him, as she sat down.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter now. We'd better get back. I still have some things to do. Tomorrow’s morning you will work in the cornrow fields and we’ll fish in the afternoon”

"The usual then," Aurora said, looking up at the crystal-clear sky. The girl yawned and put her palm on her nape, "Someday I'm gonna get out of here,"

"I love how ambitious you are, but don’t forget to keep your feet on the ground. You could become a very important person, rich even,".

"And I will. And then I will build a huge house here for you. You deserve it after all,"

"Don't be silly, Aurora. I haven't done anything I didn’t want to do and I’m happy with how things turn out," Bardolph replied.

They approached the small port beside the river, which was just a narrow wooden bridge leading them to one of the green fields between the unpaved road.

"You could have chosen not to stay with me when I was still a child. But you did, and you always took care of me. Why wouldn't I want to repay you?" Aurora asked him.

"I really hope that being such a kindhearted person won’t make things harder for you,” Bardolph replied, just as they were docking.

"Sometimes, I don’t know if you’re talking to me or yourself,”

"Or you're just not old enough to understand," the man replied and pushed her forward, "she's already waiting for us as usual," he said, staring at a slender figure that waved at them from the top of the hill.

"I’ll have to clean my room and do my laundry," Aurora said, the brown eyes made amber under the sunlight, "if I finish early, I can still go to my friends. Let's go!"

"I don't know how you still have so much energy," Bardolph replied, tucking his clothes in, and rubbing his furrowed right eyebrow. It was a little more arched than the left and hid a brownish sign that the man had near his eyelid.

"I am young. You on the other hand…" Aurora said and grinned, unveiling a seamless smile.

Bardolph kept his lips closed and tried to look serious but ended up laughing too. Birds flew across the village, chirping, and landing on wooden rooftops. Aurora glided her hands along the sunflowers and camellias found in the gardens that proceeded the bridge. Apart from a few small stairs, everything else was yellow and green until her sight was no longer able to follow. She inhaled the fresh air and took a deep breath.

Luna, Aurora's adoptive mother, waved, although they weren’t even halfway yet.

And, when the young girl arrived, Bardolph was still meters away.

"Hello, sweetheart. You look tired," she said, her fragile voice nearly like a whisper.

"Not really. I'm fine. I have to go wash my clothes, don't I?"

"Yes. But you don't have to go now. You can do it later. You know the days are longer now,"

"The sooner I do it, the better, right? Besides, I like helping you. You should be resting, not working. You’ve worked enough already."

"Aurora, I'm not that weak. Someone has to clean the house and take care of the plants while you're working in the fields," she said, the light green eyes fading. As she lifted her arms to wave to Bardolph, who was approaching almost out of breath, her parched skin swung to both sides as the wind waved.

"Finally," Bardolph said, "I'm way too old for this. This is only good for young people like you," he said, and pointed at Aurora.

"So, you admit you're a little old," Aurora said, winking at him.

"Maybe just a little bit, okay. Go do what you have to do," he told her and smiled at the girl.

Aurora nodded.

She turned and, having only taken a little more than 10 steps, stopped as she heard a stern, pain-laden scream, the moment crashing around her.

She didn't move right away. Her heart raced quicker and her head, her rational side at play, urged her to keep the gaze on the wheat fields. And, even then, something within whispered in her ear that it was about time to handle the truth about who she really was.

And another scream followed, and another and a sequence of them, a tidal wave racing across the city.

"Aurora! Aurora!" She heard.

And, no longer being able to ignore the uproar, she turned.

As soon as she looked back, her heart froze for a few seconds. No, it couldn't be. It had to be a nightmare. The woman who had looked after her for 17 years with her chest dyed red, the metal tip of an arrow carved into it.

It was as if she were inside a tame which had now been broken and the windows were cracking and shattering, thus revealing to her a truth unknown until then.