The last thing she hears before the enemy pounces is the creak of a bough. She turns, her sword morphing at a thought into a shield as she brings it around – barely in time to catch the impact of the wild girl flinging herself down from the canopy. The force almost knocks her from her feet. She digs her heels in, dirt parting around them, dewy grass brushing up against her ankles. Her opponent rights herself, and even in the dark shadows of the Whispering Woods her eyes shine, calculating, hungry. She sees the next blow coming and ducks, claws snatching at the space where her cheek was as she kicks out. The wild girl jumps over her leg like a skipping rope, tail brushing across her thigh. She keeps spinning, pulling herself up, raising her shield again to catch the next strike, and she’s on the defensive again, scrambling back from the furious onslaught. She dodges right as the enemy lunges forward, and reaches out to grab at her back in the brief moment that she’s recovering. She pulls, her opponent stumbling and falling to the ground. She can barely conceal a smirk as she strides confidently over, shield transforming back into sword, blade held tauntingly before the fallen girl’s neck. She doesn’t expect the flurry of limbs that knocks the Sword of Protection from her grasp and pulls her to the forest floor. Her eyes widen as claws pin her shoulders down, wrestling her to the ground. Then they’re panting, rolling, swiping, clambering, a mass of limbs writhing in the shadows. Only one comes out on top, as their hearts race and breaths heave. The wild girl bares her teeth, smirking… “Hey Mara.” Two words, half-whispered, and the rush of adrenaline that had kept her mind so focused on the moment fades. “Keira!” It was meant to be a warning, that patronising tone one uses with children when they misbehave as a shorthand for disappointment, but her breath catches in her throat as claws trace circles on her wrists. “Really? Here?” “Awww, are you mad you lost?” Keira leans down to nuzzle at her cheek, brushing her lips along her jaw. Mara snorts, lying back on the grass as Keira relaxes on top of her. “No,” she lies. “I’m mad you’re trying to turn my training session into a make-out-with-Keira session [i]again[/i]. This is supposed to be important!” “You know,” Keira begins, trailing a claw lazily up Mara’s forearm, “you said the same thing on Monday, but I also remember someone [i]begging[/i] me not to stop—” Mara crashes her lips to Keira’s, feeling the low vibrations of a stifled chuckle. Training could wait, after all. It always did. “And where, exactly, were you this morning?” Queen Angella’s voice is tired and heavy, and Mara can’t blame her. Kneeling on the floor of the royal court, her head tilted low – in reverence, and to hang her fringe between them as a veil – she swallows. It’s the third time this week that she’s snuck out of Bright Moon, and the third time this week she was caught sneaking back in. “Training, your majesty.” She keeps her eyes fixed firmly to the floor. “In the Whispering Woods?” “The terrain there is difficult. It’s more varied than just running around Bright Moon.” “And you were alone?” It always came back to Keira. Mara had asked – pleaded – more times than she could count for her partner to join her in Bright Moon for training. The response was always the same: “One ex-bandit is quite enough, thank you.” Mara grits her teeth. “Yes, your majesty.” “Walk with me.” The guards dissipate almost immediately – the command for privacy not so much implicit as practiced – and Mara looks up to see Angella step down from her throne with an airy grace, and stride toward the balcony. Mara scrambles to her feet, almost jogging to keep pace. The balcony was a large, open walkway that wound around the towers of Bright Moon like a snake. Walking it, it was said, was an act of meditation, blocking out the sights and sounds of the busy castle to focus on the slow, deliberate act of placing one foot in front of another. In times gone by, pilgrims would come from around Etheria to spend a day pacing it. It felt almost wrong to be power-walking along it, even following Queen Angella. Not that Mara would ever say it out loud, though some part of her wonders if that even mattered. Angella always had seen right through her. When Angella stops, it comes as a relief. Beneath them, the Whispering Woods sprawl out into the distance. “I have always tried to trust She-Ra, whoever she may be.” Angella’s voice is quiet, now, barely a whisper. Mara almost has to strain to hear her. “I’ve trusted all of you to know what you needed, to [i]do[/i] whatever you needed, to protect Etheria’s balance. It hasn’t always been easy, and I haven’t always got it right. “But you, Mara? Sometimes I worry about you. I’ve never met a She-Ra before who couldn’t put their own needs aside for Etheria’s sake, but I always worry that you’re going to abandon us all for this Keira girl.” Mara swallows again, biting back her response. “I know it’s peacetime. I know that the role of She-Ra feels so irrelevant now, but you have a duty to be prepared. You have a duty to learn. I will help you in any way that I can, Mara, but you have to be willing to ask.” “I didn’t ask for any this.” “I know. I’m sorry.” That night, Mara dreams in crystal. “I don’t know how you expect to find this place.” Keira, ever the optimist, grumbles behind her. “We literally grew up in these woods and I’ve never seen anything like that.” “I know it’s here.” Ducking beneath a branch, Mara pushes forward through the underbrush. “It wasn’t just a dream, it was a message. Just like when I found the sword, remember?” “Yeah, I remember,” Keira says. “I still think we should have ignored that one, too.” Mara smirks, stopping to turn around. “But I thought you liked She-Ra. What was it you said about my biceps?” There’s something incredibly satisfying about seeing Keira turn bright red, and Mara loves every moment of it. “Shut up and keep walking,” Keira growls, refusing to make eye contact. Mara grins, but obeys. They walk in comfortable silence, until Mara feels a gentle tug on the back of her tunic. “What is it?” “Left,” comes the whispered reply. Mara tilts her head, but sees nothing. “You sure?” Keira nods, and Mara pulls the sword from her back. A few muttered words and a slice start to clear a path through the heavy bushes, and her now-heightened senses can see the gentle, pulsing light on the other side. With one last reassuring look back at Keira, she ploughs forward, trying to make sure she clears a path wide enough for Keira to fit comfortably through behind her. When they come out into a clearing, Mara stops. It’s all she can do. In front of them, a gleaming crystal ruin stands tall, glowing with pale blue light, and it’s like some force beyond herself is beckoning her towards it – she reaches her hand back, and Keira holds on, anchoring her. “Huh.” She’s not sure which of them spoke. She licks at her lips, her mouth dry. “So how do we get in?” running faster, tripping, scrambling, moving, [i]away, get away[/i] Mara is panting. Thorns scratch through her tunic, mud and blood mixing on torn fabric. She has to find Keira. Where is Keira? [smcaps]Let go.[/smcaps] She can’t get that damn voice out of her head, it’s everywhere. [smcaps]You have to let go, Mara. Etheria is at stake.[/smcaps] [i]Where is Keira?[/i] She pushes past another low-hanging branch, revealing a cliff-edge that she barely has time to stop herself falling down. Instead, she trips, landing on her belly, her arm wrapping instinctively around a thick root, her feet dangling over nothingness. [smcaps]Let go.[/smcaps] Mara smiles, despite herself, and despite the voice in her head that won’t go away. [i]Perhaps not the best advice right now, Light.[/i] One calming breath. Another. Mara pulls herself up, rising to her feet, and brushes down her tunic. Another breath. Another. There is one rule to finding your way through the Whispering Woods: pick a direction, and walk. The direction didn’t matter, and the more you thought about it the more likely you were to get lost – she’d spoken with some soldiers from Bright Moon who had spent weeks lost in the woods after an arrogant captain assured Queen Angella that he could explore further and return safely with the aid of a compass. The woods have a magic all of their own, and they always take you to where you need to be. Another breath, and Mara strides back into the trees, ignoring the repeated pleas in her head to [smcaps]let go[/smcaps]. The woods would take her to Keira. They always did. The woods take her to a cottage, which was decidedly [i]not[/i] Keira. “You know, dearie, you remind me a lot of my Flora.” The old woman – Razz, she thinks, although she’s not quite sure if that’s a name or mad mutterings – smiles as she pours a mug of what looks like tea, though Mara has to force a smile as the stench wafted towards her. “And I don’t just mean the sword.” It takes a moment for that to settle in. “You… you knew the last She-Ra?” “Yes, Flora. Come on now, drink up.” “What was she like?” Mara leans forward, forgetting the smell for a moment in her excitement. For all the talk around Bright Moon of her predecessors, of how they’d saved and protected Etheria for centuries, she’d never once heard any of their names. She sips at the tea – sweet, bitter, nothing like its scent – and gazes at Razz with wide eyes. “Flora was a smart young woman. Kind, gentle. She cared for those around her who were suffering. Great fondness for the word ‘umm’. She had energy and strength, but not [i]direction[/i]. I always tried to tell her to find that.” Razz coughs, and takes a gulp of tea. “When I first met her, she was very young. Just about came up to my hips! She was a bit of a romantic, bless her soul – always talking about growing up and falling in love and getting married. She had this little fire in her eyes when she’d talk about it.” “Did she?” Mara breathes. “No.” Razz frowns. “The fire dimmed, and then the fire died, and whenever I asked her about it she said she’d had to let go of childish dreams.” They sit in silence for a while, sipping at their tea, thinking. “Your friend—” “Partner.” “Your partner,” Razz continues. “She’s out there in the woods somewhere, right?” Mara nods, defeated. “But it’s fine, really, I’m sure. We grew up here, I’m sure she’s safe. And besides, maybe it’s for the best. Light Hope said I have to—” “Phooey,” Razz says, her voice creaking and spluttering but defiant. “You don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to! You’re your own woman, Mara. Don’t let a magical sword of destiny get between you and being [i]you[/i].” Mara opens her mouth to reply – to say that she has a duty to Etheria, to say that Angella needs to be able to trust her, to say that she needs to be able to trust [i]herself[/i] – and then shuts it. Why couldn’t she trust herself? Why was she suddenly so uncertain? [smcaps]Let go, Mara.[/smcaps] [i]Why?[/i] Why should she let go? She only wanted to protect Etheria [i]because[/i] she wanted to protect Keira! How could letting go help her? Her breath hitched. “Come,” Razz says, putting down her mug of tea and drawing herself up to her full height. She rested a hand on Mara’s shoulder, and gently pinched at her cheek with the other, a warm, sad smile on her face. “We’re going to pick berries, and if we’re very lucky maybe the woods will bring us to your friend, hmm?”