Phoenix Reborn (Woodland Creek)(7)

There must be a small animal around here to hunt, Ashling thought. Otherwise I’d almost think he was coming down to see me.

But of course he wasn’t; no bird would do such a thing. Instead, the eagle swerved, dipping into the nearby cover of tall pine trees and disappearing from sight. No doubt that was where his prey — a rabbit, perhaps — lay in wait. Ashling considered stalking him as she began to walk, but thought better of it. She’d only startle him and his prey, and spoil his chances at a meal.

The only thing that could have improved the moment was a little company. For all her time spent alone, Ashling was all too aware that even those who shun society crave companionship to share moments of beauty. A friend — a male friend, she admitted to herself — would have been a nice addition. Though he would have had to be a special one indeed, to be tolerable.

And what man in his right mind would want to spend time with someone as flawed as she was? Hawke had seemed interested in catching up, in spending time with her again. But then, he’d always been kind and charitable with his time. No doubt he perceived her simply as a former classmate. He was willing, perhaps, to forget the event that had caused the end of their friendship.

But she wasn’t exactly someone that any man aspired to get close to. Sometimes she wondered if she should just give in and join a convent. For one thing, it would give her an excuse to avoid men and for another, weren’t those places generally made of stone? The building would be able to resist one of her “accidents,” if need be. But a man? A body of flesh and bone would be vulnerable to her cursed ability. And she could never live with herself if she really hurt someone. She’d come close enough already.

“Fire Girl,” they had called her.

Her nickname had hit at the beginning of her sophomore year in high school, when a bunch of teenagers had headed down to a nearby lake for an evening bonfire. Somehow, a girl that Ashling had barely known had issued her an invitation without realizing the gravity of her error — you didn’t invite girls like her to such events.

Hawke had told her that he’d be there. And Ashling, having resolved to be more friendly than she had in her younger years, had shown up to find a sea of sour faces greeting her, but his had been lost among the masses. And so she only saw the unfriendly ones; the sorts of faces that not only ask how the hell you came to be here, but that convey a wish that you’d sink to the bottom of an ocean with lead weights tied to your feet.

While seeking Hawke’s friendly features in the crowd, she’d all but smashed head-first into a teenage boy called Jeremy, who’d been carrying a pile of wood over to the place where she stood.

Ashling would never forget his words:

“What are you doing here, Ugly?” he’d asked.

“I was invited,” she’d mumbled quietly.

“Well, I’m uninviting you. This party’s for hot chicks only.”

It had only taken a second for Ashling to turn away, ready to walk silently back towards town. She’d find Hawke another time.

It was when she’d taken several steps that the kid had continued his string of abuse.

“Is it because you’re so freaking ugly that your parents left you with that crazy old man Ranach? Because I don’t blame them. I’d have thrown you off a cliff. If I ever have a kid who looks like you I’ll do that, then kill myself.”

Ashling had spun around to face him. The reaction had been impulsive and sudden. And had she known for a second what the consequences would be, she would have found the strength to ignore him.

But he’d brought her parents into it. It was one thing to mock her physical appearance, but comments about her parents were off limits. She never wanted to admit that the jabs stung her to the core, but the truth was that they did; like a knife in her side, twisting. She’d never known why her parents had left or where they’d gone, or even if they were still alive. But they were gone, and she’d felt abandoned, unwanted.

In her pain and rage, she had simply stared at the boy Jeremy, who still held the logs in his arms, a smug smile on his face. Ashling could see how pleased he was to have hurt her. She’d felt her rage increasing to a fever pitch as she breathed deeply, preparing herself for something — though what, she didn’t entirely know.

For years afterwards she would recall that for a moment she had wished Jeremy dead, her eyes fixed on those logs, wishing they would engulf the boy in flame.

And that was precisely what happened. As though doused in lighter fluid they had lit up, setting his sleeves on fire before he’d had a chance to drop the wood. His eyebrows and a large portion of his hair had also managed to light up.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Out of the woods Hawke had come sprinting, a blur from between the tall trees. In front of Ashling and everyone else he’d thrown Jeremy to the ground to extinguish the flames that were threatening to consume the young man. Never had Ashling seen anyone move so fast.

And never had she seen a look like he’d shot her in that moment, his eyes locking on hers, on her very soul. He was judging her; she knew it. How could he not? In that moment, Hawke had hated her and what she was.

And everyone else had stared, too. Not at Jeremy, but at the girl who’d appeared to start the conflagration. Though she must have been standing ten feet away from her victim and though they couldn’t explain how, there was no doubt in their minds that she’d done it.