First thing the next morning, Til got to listen as Noan attempted to convince Ray to meditate with him. He had a great many good reasons for it, to ‘focus her mind,’ and ‘embrace magic you’ve been touched by.’

  Til did his best to keep from laughing as he prepared the food.

  “You’ll like it! If you haven’t found your key yet, it’ll be the best way to find it. And if you have found it and simply forgot, it’ll help you connect again, maybe even better than before! That said, you still have to at least try.” Noan stressed to Ray.

  “But it sounds so boring…” The stubborn girl groaned back.

  “Well, it is a little boring.” Noan immediately loses all the ground he’d had, “But that’s the point! You’re doing something while doing nothing. Engaging your mind and letting it run free! Free to touch the magic around us, and then allowing you to touch the magic around us, the magic of the world yourself!”

  ‘There’s no way that’s real.” Ray says so flatly that Til has to cough to cover up the snort of laughter it rips from him.

  “It is! I assure you. Just. Try it with me.”

  “Fine. I’ll try it.” The girl grudgingly agrees, surprising Til--who’d thought there was really going to be more of a fight--but also Noan from the stunned look on his face.

  Noan doesn’t falter, though, plopping himself down to the first and instructing Ray to copy him, briefly mentioning the different acceptable poses to mediate in, though encouraging her to stay sitting with him.

  Then Noan begins to guide her, talking her through the meditative breathing and instructing her on how to relax both her body and mind.

  Ray seemed to be following along dutifully, and Til was surprised at how well it was going. After her initial fight, he’d thought for sure she’d have some issue with meditation. But she really seemed to take it well, apparently relaxing quickly.

  That was until she started snoring while sitting upright.

  Til couldn’t contain his laughter then, the force of it shaking his body as Noan quickly woke the girl up and announced they were going to try something that might be more up her alley, called ‘Dodgeball.’

  From there, they ran around their small camp, Noan throwing brightly colored balls of light at Ray, and every time they hit her, it turned whatever part of her it touched into some of the most hideous and absolutely garish shades that Til couldn’t even imagine, let alone remember seeing before. Colors that Til couldn’t even describe together, had he the words to do so.

  Finally, Til called for them to sit and eat. They didn’t have all the time in the world, and when Ray sat, she was polka-dotted and looked like a rainbow had thrown up on her, but only the colors that couldn’t be properly set anywhere else in nature.

  It was truly some of the most hideous colors that Til had ever had the misfortune of seeing, and all in one spot, covering one small child. He wasn’t sure how she wasn’t going blind just being that close to all of it.

  But both she and Noan were smiling, so Til thought that he could refrain from saying anything about it for now.

  That it would certainly build up her skill in fighting was another bonus; he was certain that she’d actually managed to dodge a few of the balls as well, and that could translate well to middling getting hurt later.

  Later, when Ray fell asleep against his chest as they rode to the next village, Til thought that maybe the dodgeball idea was a much better idea than he’d originally thought. Especially once all the colors faded away.

  Passing through two more villages without stopping, Til worried for a moment that they might have wasted too much time.

  Noan didn’t seem to be concerned, though, simply leading them on after pausing in each doing… whatever it was that he did to check if there were more of the children there.

  It wasn’t until they were passing by a hamlet, though a hamlet might have been a kind word for the scant handful of buildings and people around, that Noan paused again. Looking around, he reached into his bag, pulling out what had to be a map, though why they hadn’t used it yet escaped Til.

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  “Where are we?” He asked, leaning over as much as he dared with the still sleeping girl against his front, trying to see the map the wizard held open.

  “I don’t think- This place isn’t actually on any of the maps. Possibly it’s just too small, or might not have a name; many of these places don’t.” He squints at the map, focusing on a few sections as though doing so will magically make words appear.

  “I wonder what the locals call it.”

  Noan shrugged; maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe it matters to them.

  The place had little more than a dozen people; over half, it seemed, were children. All had stopped to see who the strangers were and what they wanted.

  Noan put the map away before pulling his silent searching act, though this time it was only seconds for him to search before opening his eyes.

  “Ah,” He said, pointing to a young teen who was watching them, “That one there.”

  Sliding off his horse, Noan quickly moves in front of the teen, who watches him with apparent, and very much so appropriate, wariness.

  “Hello, young man,” Noan says, sounding calm and cool, very much like a representative of the king. “Would you take me to your parents? There are some matters I’ll need to discuss with them.”

  The boy looks at Noan with more confusion than suspicion now. Fluffy dark hair spreads out over warm, dark eyes that flick from Noan to Til, still on his horse, to Ray, still dozing against his chest, unaware even that they’d stopped.

  Taking the chance, Til looks over the boy, looking for anything that might externally mark the child, make him stand out in some way from his peers as being one of the Touched, but nothing stands out. Nothing obvious, nothing that Til can see is shared by Noan, Ray, and the babe whose name he still doesn’t know.

  “I can’t. They’re both gone. Have been for a while now. Just me and my sisters now.” The boy responds.

  Til knows and remembers the feeling, “Is there anyone helping you? Anyone looking after you?”

  “No, no one. We’ve no family here, not that whatever family we might have left would care for us.” The boy shakes his head, “We haven’t heard from them since before our parents' passing.”

  “What about someone in your village?” Til asks, hoping that someone at least was keeping this boy from raising his sisters on his own.

  “They have their own worries; they don’t need to look after us.” He juts his chin out, “Anyway, I’m nearly grown. It’s not like I need looking after, so it’s not an issue.”

  Til looks at this now, who’s so young. He’s nowhere near grown, nowhere near of age. He’s barely even old enough to have chin hairs.

  Obviously, this child had to go with them; there’s really no other choice. He’s too young to be on his own, really too young to be the only adult for his sisters as well. They need help, really likely more than Til or Noan can offer them. But they could all come back to the castle, at least the sisters would be taken care of while the boy learned how to use his magic. The burden would be off his shoulders, but they’d still be close by.

  Making up his mind to suggest that they just bring all of them, he’s cut off by Noan starting to say something. Whatever he plans to say is cut off before it’s really understandable, but unlike the last few times Noan’s cut himself off like that in Til’s company, instead of looking slightly annoyed, he seems more thoughtful.

  He turns to Til, something in his gaze more than thoughtfulness. This time, as he worked his jaw, it wasn’t like there was a particularly grisly piece of meat in his mouth. Now he worked it as though it ached.

  Finally, he decided. Whatever he looked for from Til, he’d either found or accepted that he wouldn’t find.

  He turns suddenly, swiping a hand in front of the boy's face, very nearly hitting him, but the boy barely flinches before seemingly every muscle in his body relaxes. The confusion, pride, and hints of anger melt away before Noan’s arm is back to his side. His face droops to blankness, jaw dropping though not quite opening.

  Noan’s face is now inscrutable, though a darkness lies over it.

  Til has no idea what’s happened, or what he’s done to the boy, and before he can ask if the boy’s alright, Noan turns suddenly and walks to one of the huts, the boy not far behind him, scuffing his feet as he goes.

  Just seconds later, they reappear; the boy holding a small child to him loosely, a simple canvas sack slung over his shoulder.

  He’s still scuffing his shoes as he walks to one of the adults who’d appeared when they’d stopped their horses, apparently offering her the child in his arms.

  Noan strides over as well, speaking intently to the woman. Til can’t hear what they say to her, but even with the look of concern on her face, she takes the child, propping her up on her hip and holding her close. Shaking her head, she responds.

  Whatever she says is apparently good enough for Noan, though, as he leads the boy back to his horse, helping him onto it before leading it by the reins without even a look back at the knight.

  Til can’t help but feel a little concern alongside the confusion. Why wasn’t Noan riding the horse?

  Til tries to talk to the boy, but he doesn’t respond; the strange blankness Noan had caused in him still weighs down his limbs and face, leaving him looking off into the distance down the road they traveled.

  When turning his attention to the wizard, worry growing stronger, Til tried to ask what he’d done to the boy, what would become of his sisters, and where they were going. All of it was met with silence, or Noan simply shaking his head, refusing to respond.

  Why couldn’t the boy speak?

  What had he done?

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