The Fairest (Book #1)

2: The Lost Ones

"Hala, Dean," she said, sensing her best friend was nearby.

Indeed, the 17-year-old gave a low chuckle from his perch on a boulder. He flapped his auburn hair out of his green eyes, exposing a pink birthmark trailing the right side of his face like a permanent blush. He lowered his spear, and the three Elders with him did the same.

"Lady Mageia, fine day?"

"It was indeed a fine day," she said, throwing him the silver timepiece she stole from the man she spooked. He caught it and grinned at its elaborate designs.

She heard him scramble off the boulder and fall on her trail.

"Yer back early," he said in the foreign accent she'd grown accustomed to.

Uh oh, she thought, a knot forming in her throat.

"Yeah, I know."

"Geia ... Did'ju get spotted?" he asked with a hard strain in his voice.

"Uh ..." she said, already feeling her friend's face twist hard.

"Wait." He stepped in front of her with a hand raised. "Yuh got spotted, didn't yuh?"

She shrugged and slipped around him. "Uh ... Yeah." She bit hard into her bottom lip, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading.

Dean Unknown gawked, unable to get a single word out. He followed her under the drape of colorful vines into the heart of the encampment. A place she has called home for eight years. Huts made of nature's debris covered with stolen or handmade blankets sat scattered about. Clothing hung along vines, ropes, and tree branches, drying under the noon day sun. Handmade decorations and artwork from the children dangled in the breeze across the pathway and anywhere needing the color of life.

The smell of venison and vegetables lingered in the air, making her stomach grumble. She unlatched her cloak and exited the pathway into a circular clearing. A large firepit sat at the center with a lit flame within. Strange children ran around playing tag, and when they saw her, they cheered, ran to her, and clung to her waist.

"Hala, young ones," she chuckled.

"Hala! What did you bring us this time?" a boy asked, peering up at her with crooked eyes.

"Hopefully, enough valuables to bring in more delicious sweets," she said, scuffing his hair.

They cheered with joy and ran off, careless of their various deformities and illnesses.

"This is yer first spotting in what? Five months?" Dean picked up the troublesome topic, and Mageia gave an irritable sigh. "What happened?"

"I'll give my report during the meeting," she said.

She continued across the Pit into a smaller trail leading to more huts. The biggest one sat towards the end, almost in the shape of a cottage, with a window and a door made of wood planks. This one belonged to her.

"This is terrible, Geia," he said, hand clawing into his hair. "Yer the Chief of the Lost Ones. Yer the role model fer everyone."

"I know, Dean," she grumbled, untying the sack of stolen items from her waist and plopping it into Dean's hands.

"Yuh don't act like it," he said, eyes wide and firm. Her best friend in the entire world had lost his sense of humor. She knew why but facing the truth would bring the waterfalls.

"But I'm fine, Dean. I made it out of the temple grounds with my head still on my shoulders."

His angry face flushed red, and the muscles in his arms flexed. The treetops surrounding them began to flutter in a sudden breeze causing the hairs along her arms to stand. She looked at the ground and tapped her boot into the stones. Guilt and regret washed their way into her soul. Her bottom lip curled between her teeth, and she fumbled with the buttons on her cloak.