"Unrequited"

It’s not that easy.

 I’ve known Natalie for my entire life. We weren’t really that close during our early years; cordial was about the extent of it. What was I supposed to think? Some of my earliest memories are of being tormented by those two harpies that she called sisters, so I made it a point to distance myself from the rest of Clan Firebrand. I respected her father, outside of the fact that he was the village elder. Her mother was a charming and personable woman, and I’m glad that Natalie turned out in that mold. It was rather unfair of me to judge her on the merits of her older sisters, but even then I could tell that there was something different about her.

 Never mind the physical aspects. The village of Kari was known for its inhabitants having that familiar look of red hair and green eyes. Granted I don’t particularly fit that model myself, but dad told me years ago that the Mason Clan had originated from the Gaia region, which helped explain why we all looked so different. But Natalie… her entire family took on that entire Kari form; the slender physique, the red hair, green eyes, and that hint of darkness to their skin that separated the Firebrand Clan from the other inhabitants. And here she was, slender and fair-skinned, with hair blacker than the darkest of nights, and with blue eyes that shined like polished sapphire. While it’s true that not everyone shared all of the typical Kari features, Natalie stood out amongst everyone. She told me once that her grandmother had a similar look in her youth. Nonetheless, she was about as different as one could ever hope to be.

 Awkward probably isn’t the best way to describe it, but it does happen to be the first word to come to mind when she tried to follow in her sisters’ methods. This would later evolve into frustration, followed by anger; she certainly retained that Firebrand temper, if nothing else. Like me, Natalie was different. While I had my own family, she could not have been any more of an outsider if bandits had left her in the village as a child.

 When my mother died, it was as if a major part of me had suddenly fallen away and was no more. Even in sickness we come to expect the eventual departure, but it still hurts when it comes. I don’t know how much I cried during that time; I could have been doing something as distant as my chores, and I would find myself sobbing the moment I would see anything that reminded me of her in even the slightest of senses. I was only seven at the time; that’s a tough situation to deal with at any age, but as a youth, it felt as if I would crawl into the grave with her. There was still my father and little Simone, but I felt so distant from my own family. If it were even possible, I became even more of an outsider.

 I didn’t speak much from that point, and the grief of my mother’s death would come to me at the most inopportune of times. It’s bad enough when you’re the kid that looks different from everyone else, much less being the one that would start crying out of the blue. As to be expected, I had my share of scuffles with the other youths of the village. It had almost become a custom to pick on me at some point. I wasn’t the largest kid in the village by far, so it became common practice for me to take a beating, suck it up, and clean myself up so that dad didn’t start asking questions.

 Even pacifists have a breaking point, and I was no different. I’m not entirely certain what had gotten into me that day, but I had decided that this would be the end of it. There were three of them; Kharim, by far the largest twelve-year-old that I had ever laid eyes on, and the Tanner brothers, his two little lackeys. The teasing began, as did the pushing. I decided at that moment that this would be the end of hit. I shouted, dove at Kharim, and began punching away. Sure, he was surprised, but it didn’t take long for the shock to wear off and for the three of them to regain their bearings. I was of course expecting the worst beating of my natural life at that point, until I heard one of the Tanner brothers hit the ground behind me, crying more than I ever have in a fight. Kharim turned around just in time to catch a fist right to the face, which I later learned knocked out not one, but two of his teeth. The remaining Tanner brother apparently had more sense than his younger sibling as well as his ringleader, and took off running in the opposite direction. While the other two picked themselves up to follow suit, I finally turned to see who had helped me.

 It can be embarrassing to have a girl come to your aid in a fight, and truth be told, I was very much so. Nonetheless, there was Natalie, fists still balled up, and asking me if I was alright.

 People laugh whenever I tell that story, and despite the fact that I’ve told it dozens of times, I can’t help but smirk myself. Friendships develop under a number of different circumstances, and I still feel that this was one of the stranger bouts. Natalie and I have been through a lot over the years, even before the whole incident with the village. Coming to Haven was very bittersweet for me; it was as if I felt guilty for surviving, where so many other people died. Simone. My father. Natalie’s sisters. Her parents. Countless friends. What made me so special as to have been able to escape with my life? I spent a countless hours pondering that as I attempted to make sense of my new life in Haven.

 Days were spent working around Ardonis, my new home. But nights… there were nights where I would sit in the midst of my room, and wonder about Natalie. We had gone our separate ways after the arrival, and while I did encourage my friend to find her own path in this new world, I had to admit to myself that I missed her. You wonder about your friends, and I did. She was the closest thing to family I had left in the world, this one or any other. I wondered where her path had taken her in the world, and if she thought about me from time to time. Wondering what someone else is doing in the world, at this particular moment in time. I’m sure that she did, but still…

Was that enough?