Recovering Our Own

Prologue: A Delivery *

Cautiously, a girl walked down the dark beach, pausing to pick up pieces of trash and throw them away. She muttered to herself about "irresponsible humans" as she picked up a plastic water bottle, shook out the last of the liquid and tossed it in the recycling bin. When she reached ocean shore, she stopped, checked to see if anyone was watching, and sat down, breathing in the salty ocean air. Cold waves lapped gently over her toes and sent chills up her spine. Good chills. Alive chills. The girl was barefoot, wearing a flowing black summer dress.

She was carrying a box. It was a regular cardboard shoebox, but the way she carried it told you there was something very more important inside. Not important in the way you would normally expect from a shoebox, not new basketball shoes important. This was a different kind of important. Many people have never seen this kind of important, for its rare now. This was the kind of important that was most frequently found by those who had once been lost. It was sort of like finding a map that showed you the road back to hope, life, and purpose, but this kind of important didn't just stop there. This was finding a map that showed you the road back to hope, life and happiness, and now you were going to share it to everyone else who had lost that path, and you were all going to find it again. This was that kind of important. The rare kind, the best kind, and also, in her case, the terrifying kind.

As she kicked her feet impatiently in the ocean's water, dark blue in the night, starlight reflected off its surface, twisting and turning as if to the girl's command. Then, she waited. After a few minutes a figure approached. He was of average height and build, dressed casually in jeans and a gray sweatshirt. A few feet from where she sat on the beach, he paused and said, "You found it then. Finally. So splitting up was a good idea."

"Shocked?" the girl asked, without turning around.

"No, I'm glad," the boy replied. "Just a little surprised, that's all."

"Raidah was happy," the girl told him haughtily. "She thought it was meant to be." She shook out her hair, and the wind caught it, her hair blowing out behind her majestically. For a moment, she looked almost magical.

"You told her already?"

"Yep. Called her on the fancy human cell phone she gave me. She wanted me to pass it on to you and go home for training." As she said this the girl sat up a little straighter, with a look of importance about her.

"She appointed you The Guardian?" asked the boy, sounding a bit shocked.

"Yes," the girl said curtly. "Not what you expected, is it?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," the boy apologized.

The girl sighed and shifted the weight of the heavy box in her arms. "I know, it's just that everyone thinks I'm not capable. They don't think that I, a simple light worker, should be the Guardian of the most powerful one ever. Most of them want you to be the Guardian, Owen."

"Well, you still have years until the Hatching," the boy said, trying to console her. "If Raidah thinks you will be the best for the job, you are. She's never wrong."

"Thanks," said the girl. "Here, take it." She held the shoebox out to the boy. Moonlight shone on the box and lit up glowing symbols written on its lid.

"Did you do that?" the boy asked, as he carefully took the box.

"Yeah, I've been practicing and I put the strongest Protections I could on that box."

"And on it?" the boy whispered, as if anyone hearing that one sentence would end in tragedy.

"I did everything the best I possibly could, followed all the proper traditions and everything. Do you have any idea how complex that stuff is?"

"No, I don't," the boy admitted, "but I do admire all the hard work you guys do. People just don't get it."

The girl smiled, and the boy was reminded of how much he had missed her smile. It had been a long time.

"Go now," the girl urged. "You don't want to be late, or it'll be centuries of work gone to waste."

"Alright, I'm going," he said. "But one more thing." He reached into his backpack and pulled out a flower crown made of daisies. "I thought you would like this."

"Thanks." With a small smile, the girl took it and placed the crown on her head.

The boy zipped his backpack and stood back up. "Well, goodbye Aileen."

"Bye Owen."

The boy turned and walked away.

The girl stood up and spent the rest of the night drawing symbols in the sand, until morning came and she was gone. She left the beach decorated with drawings, and a daisy half-buried in the sand.

A/N (Please note that this part of the story has been edited about a million times and so if you are a returning who is a bit confused, that's probably why! Sorry about that but I find the first part always get the most editing done on it. Even this author's note has been edited to the extreme. :) 

I'd like to thank you for clicking on my book and pressing that little "read" button! I do hope you enjoyed this little prologue and will stick around for the rest. If you do like it, remember to vote and comment!

What are your thoughts on the story so far? I know there isn't much yet, but keep reading! I'd love to see your predictions and thoughts on this bit.