The wind whips and tugs at his cloak as he stands atop the Guardian Wall, gazing out at Humania below him. Most of what he sees is completely alien to him; in the dead center, a certain range of mountains loom over a certain near-empty road, branching off of the main road that connects to the capital farther south (to clarify, Humania is already the southernmost kingdom.) That little, insignificant dirt path, with a few houses and farms following along here and there, is what he calls home. Everything else is nothing more than a blurry, swirling mess, as if God began painting the land before him, before giving up halfway through and tossing whatever was left on his palate at the canvas.

But when he turns around, away from the kingdom of Humans, he’s faced with the entire paint bucket, splashed against a swirling whirlpool of thoughts and theories. He doesn’t know what the world beyond the Wall looks like, and, even in all of the mind’s intricacies, it does a shoddy job of filling in the blanks. But still, gazing upon that muddled horizon of blues and greens, he just knows that somewhere, out in that mess of color and shapes, is his purpose. His reason for going on.

He loves his home. He loves his family. He loves the people there. But he’s always known, for as long as he remembers, that he doesn’t belong there. So, logically, his place, his niche, his home… It must be out there. Somewhere. Waiting for him. Lord knows nothing else will.

He’s been awake for ten minutes now, but that whirlpool of imaginings of an escape still swirls through his mind. Not a dream, but a fading memory of a fantasy escape he was unsure of his desire to return to. Sitting up, his head hanging over his lap, he takes a second to think. What’ll he find up there? Will he find anything? Will it even matter?

His contemplations are interrupted when he notices something slip between his sheet-covered legs: a feather. A rather large one at that, and strangely colored too. The vane, that being the soft and fuzzy part, is of the purest white he’s seen, but closer to the middle, it changes to more of a baby blue. He’s never seen a feather with such odd colorations. He runs his finger along the side, feeling the softness, and he’s surprised at just how soft it is. If only his pillow were filled with more of these…

But, while he’s interested in its origins and why it’d be on his bed, he also has other things on his mind. Swinging his legs over the bedside, he readies himself for his first adventure.

---

He makes his way back down the stairs, this time with much less speed and grace. He’s wearing the same clothes as yesterday (and every day before that) with a large travel bag slung over his shoulder, packed full of all the stuff he’ll need for his journey. It’s surprisingly light as well, considering it contains an entire sleeping bag stuffed in with his jerky and water canteen and his mysterious metal ball and first aid kit. Besides that, strapped to his waist is the sheathe to his bronze shortsword, the same he’d been practicing with for two years. The second he saw it in that traveling merchant’s cart, he just had to have it.

He makes it to the landing, turning to face the rest of the house, his sister reading in the fire room and his mother busy in the kitchen. He doesn’t want to call too much attention to himself, for fear of looking desperate, but he also isn’t sure what he’s meant to do. Should he just… leave? Clear his throat? Sneak up and scare the living daylights out of his mother? All good ideas, some more than others, but he’s still faced with the question of how he should present himself. The many trials and tribulations of the socially awkward.

Elizabeth decides for him. “You just gonna stand there collecting dust, or are you gonna stop pretending we don’t already know you’re there?” she says, not even glancing up from her book. Charlie finally turns her head around, grinning at her son as she puts her cooking tools down. “Well well well, aren’t you looking positively adventurous this mornin’, eh?” she chuckles, walking over to Will and fretting with his hair. “I swear, yer gonna wake up one mornin’ with a bird’s nest in yer hair…” Will ducks under her arms, swinging around behind he, saying, “C’mon, I’m going into th’ mountains, y’think the animals care whether I’m presentable or not?” Elizabeth laughs, finally rising from her seat and setting down her book as she bears witness to the battle of a woman who cares too much and a boy who couldn’t care less. “Nonsense, it’s always important ta look yer best, no matter whatcher doin’!” she insists, stretching up to his head to tidy his hair up more.

Once Will’s clothes are smooth and his hair is nice and tidy, he stands in the doorway, saying his goodbyes. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you off, but I’ve got my own work to be done,” Charlie laments. Will just stoops down, wrapping his arms around his mother’s neck encouragingly, saying, “It’s alright, ya don’t gotta see me off everywhere.” Rising back to his feet, the two keeping eye contact, the second time in a week for Will. Must be a new record.

She smiles up at her little boy, reminded of all the adventures she’d go on, her and James. They say history repeats itself, and the child before her is concrete proof of this. She knows that he won’t be able to hold back much longer. Someday, he’s gonna go off on his own, “find himself,” and if she tries and hold him down, then she won’t even know when he’s going until he’s gone. He’ll have fun, she’s sure of it. He’ll get hurt, and she’s more certain of that. But she can’t keep him from either. Besides, no matter where he goes, his home is here, at his momma’s house, and no matter how far he runs, he’ll always come back here. Someday.

So she smiles, closing the gates to her tears, for now, and says goodbye. “I love you!” she calls, as her pride and joys walk out of the house. Will turns around, walking backwards as he and Elizabeth wave and he calls back, “I love you too, Ma! See ya later!”

She closes the door, making her way back over to the stove. Harris’s cake is probably done by now. She puts on her oven mit, stoops down, opens the oven, pulls out the cake, sets it on the counter to cool, pulls the oven mit back off, sits in the fire room, and…

All at once, the gates open.

---

The two siblings stand at the edge of town, blanketed in the shadows of the mountains above, only two paths available. Into the valley, or down that mystery path. “We’re here,” Elizabeth says, breaking the silence. Will shifts awkwardly, unsure of what he’s meant to say, meant to do. Should he give some kind of cool speech or one-liner, reassuring her that he’ll be fine? Or does he just walk off without a word, and leave it at that? The former option is looking pretty good right about now…

His eyes glance back to the house. Ms. Lingham’s. That scream returns to rip into his head, that agonizing howl of a thousand pains, a thousand sorrows. His imagination immediately sets to work imagining every possibility as to what brought her to such a place. Husband torn apart by wolves? A son kidnapped by those “Devils” and slaughtered? What did it? And could it get to him, too…?

His thoughts are broken by a loud voice calling to them from behind. Twisting himself all the way around, Will finds himself face-to-face with the pastor, Brother Jay. He bounds his way down the street, calling out, “Heya kiddos!” before coming to an abrupt stop between the two. A single drop of sweat trickles down his charcoal forehead, though the rest of him makes no indication of exertion. He smiles, his mouth full of shining pearls, almost blinding to look at.

“Heya, Brother. I’m just here to see him off,” Elizabeth says, propping her elbow on Will’s shoulder. Jay’s smile doesn’t change, but now he looks curious. “And where might you be going, Mister Newbie?” he asks. Will looks down, even more uncomfortable now than before. “I-I’m going up in th’ mountains, sir… Up that path,” he says, pointing off to his right. Jay follows his hand, an amused expression coming over his face. “Well now, ain’t that interesting. You look mighty prepared,” he says, looking over Will’s shoulder at his bag. “And that sword, is that why you asked me to help you?”

Will nodded. For the past month, Will’s been training with Brother Jay, but he guesses he just never said why. Jay nods as well, looking thoughtful. Will looks up, seeing a peculiar shine overcome his fiery orange eyes. He looks back down to Will, unfortunately making eye contact as he looks rather pleased. “Well, now, if you’re going up there all alone, take some advice: keep your feet on the ground, y’hear me?” Will quickly nods, desperate to get out of this situation ASAP. Jay looks even more pleased, as he nods at both of them, before twirling on his heel and making his way to Ms. Lingham’s. Just as Will is going to look away, Jay suddenly stops in his tracks, turning and calling back to Will one last time: “One more thing to remember,” he shouts. “You’re never truly alone, got that? You’ve got The Author writing your story!”

And with that, he turns back, bouncing up the steps and slipping into the old lady’s house.

“Well, that was kinda odd,” Elizabeth states rather plainly. She looks down at Will, giving him the sweetest smile she can. “Be sure to bring me a souvenir,” she says, before heading back off into town, not another word said. Guess he was overthinking it after all. So, he turns around, feeling the peaks of the mountains glaring down at him, and heads up that overgrown path, tugging his cloak free from a bush.

That was the last normal day of his life, for better or for worse.