"When do we begin?" I asked, rolling my eyes.

"First, we need to get you to a safe area. The Malin will have sensed your magic, so it won't be long until they show up trying to collect your powers. The best thing we can do is to find someplace to hide and wait them out."

Micah barely had time to get the words out of his mouth when a loud "pop" resonated from a few yards away.

Micah turned toward me and put his index finger urgently to his mouth, begging me to keep silent. He had a frazzled expression on his face as he pulled me over to a nearby area covered with tall bushes. I crouched down behind them, concealing myself.

Micah, on the other hand, did not hide. He remained in the open, his muscles tense, as if bracing himself for a fight.

"Micah, what are you doing?" I whispered, but he ignored me.  

"There he is!" someone yelled, as a group of people walk into the area.

I hunched lower behind the bushes, concealing myself from the strangers, like the coward that I was. I could barely see them, but it appeared to be three men, all in their late thirties.

"Alright, witch, you're coming with us. We're going to pay a little visit to King Casimir," one of the men said with a sly smile.

"I'm not going anywhere," Micah replied calmly. 

"They always have to act tough," the man muttered to his comrades, and they chortled. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be. We're not going to hurt you."

"Yes, because the Malin have proven themselves to be so trustworthy," Micah said sarcastically.

Don't taunt them! I internally begged.

"We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. That's entirely up to you," the Malin soldier said. "Either way, you're coming with us."

"I'm not going anywhere," Micah said once again.

"The hard way it is then."

Like the soldier who attacked Christopher and Abigail, the man gathered a strange blue light in the palm of his hand, and hurled it toward Micah.

Micah effortlessly leaned to one side, causing the light to miss him. He let out a small chuckle.

"Is that all you've got?"

The soldiers glared at each other, before simultaneously shooting three firebombs. But Micah dropped to the ground before any of them even came close to striking him.

He was back on his feet inhumanly fast, and took off running toward the men. They began throwing the firebombs more frequently, one right after the other, but Micah was faster; he always dodged the beams before they could touch him.

Eventually, the men realized that their attempts were futile, that their adversary was much more skilled than they were. They tried to run away as Micah charged at them, but Micah was faster. He sprinted in front of them, blocking their path.

"Leaving so soon?" he asked with a tantalizing smile.

One of the soldiers made a desperate attempt to punch Micah in the face, but Micah grabbed the man's fist before he even came close to making contact. He gave his hand a hard squeeze, causing it to make a loud snap that even I could hear from my hiding spot. The man screamed in pain and fell to his knees, clasping his injured hand.

Another of the Malin charged at Micah, but Micah simply moves to his left, causing the man to run directly into a tree. He fell lifelessly to the ground.

The last remaining soldier glanced nervously at his comrades lying on the forest floor. He looked as if he was about to scurry away, but Micah wasn't going to let that happen. Before the man was even aware of what was happening, Micah punched him in the face so hard that he was knocked out cold.

Micah turned to the man with the crushed hand, and squatted down so that he was at the same level as him.

"Tell your 'King' to go to hell," he spit.

"You know I bloody well can't tell him that! He'll kill me!" the man shouted.

"Good," Micah growled, bringing his knee up to the man's face, breaking his nose and causing him to fall unconscious next to his companions.

"It's okay to come out now," Micah said, striding toward the bush where I was hidden.

I had never seen him so joyous, an aura of superiority radiating from his smug face. It was obvious that fighting put him in his element. He was so distracted, so pompous, that he didn't even notice when one of the three men climbed unsteadily to his feet.

I saw this happening as though in slow motion. I wanted to scream, to tell Micah to turn around, but I couldn't seem to find the words to warn him. I just stood frozen in place, as the man began forming a firebomb in his hand. Just before he could release it, I jumped out from behind the bush, and let out a loud scream.

My distraction was effective, as it causes the Malin to turn toward me instead. He paused, indecisive for a split second, his eyes darting back and forth from me to Micah, as if unsure who to attack.

In his uncertainty, the man hesitated just a moment too long. Micah picked up a large rock from the forest floor, and hurled it at the man as though it were a baseball. It struck him square in the face, causing a gash to open on his temple as he fell feebly to the ground.

"Well, that was close," Micah said nonchalantly, wiping the dirt off of his hands.

I stood there, wide eyed and panicked,  the adrenaline from the attack
beginning to wear off. I felt queasy. I squatted against a tree and put my head in my hands, trying to make the world stop spinning.

"Why on Earth did you do that, Alexis?"

I could barely hear Micah over the sound of my heart thumping in my ears.

"Do what?" I mumbled through my fingers.

"Shout at the Malin soldier. You could have been killed," he said, his expression a mixture of frustration and awe.

"If I didn't do something, he would've attacked you. You can yell at me all you want, but I would do it again in a heartbeat," I said, looking up at him as he towered over me.

He stopped and analyzed me for several seconds before whispering, "Thank you."

"What?" I asked, stunned.

"I said thank you," he murmured, embarrassed. "If you hadn't been here, my arrogance would have gotten me killed. You saved my life. But don't do it again, or next time I will yell at you," he said with a playful smile.

"Well, you save my life on a daily basis, so let's just say we're even."

He gave a small laugh and reached out his hand, helping me to my feet. The exuberance of his smile was infectious, and I found myself grinning sheepishly.

But then the reality of our situation returned to the forefront of my mind, and my stomach twisted into knots.

"It's terrifying how quickly the Malin showed up after I used my magic. It's like they're always hanging around, just waiting on me to slip up," I muttered.

"The Malin have an especially annoying power, thanks to the King. They can materialize out of thin air in either world. It's called 'surfacing'. All they have to do is think of where they want to be and poof... there they are. It's how they so easily track witches. Most don't even have a chance to run before the Malin descend on them," Micah said in disgust.

I was lucky that Micah was with me, or I might have been one of those unlucky witches, too.

"How close do you think we are to the safe house?" I asked.

I was beginning to feel anxious at the thought of more Malin showing up. I'd had too many close encounters with them already, and didn't want to tempt fate by sticking around for too long.

"According to the map, we're only a few miles outside of New Haven. I say our best chance is to try to get to the city as soon as possible and blend in until we can find this place. Well, try to blend in at least," he said, scrutinizing my oversized t-shirt and bandaged forehead. 

Thirty minutes later, we crossed into a small strip of city. The "Welcome to New Haven" sign made me feel guilty for doubting Micah's ability to navigate.

"At least we know we're on the right path. Now we just have to figure out which of these houses belongs to Fletcher," Micah said.

People walked past us, nearly breaking their necks to look at me. I blushed a deep scarlet, knowing that they were judging me for my appearance. I was certain that many thought I was being held hostage by Micah.

"Um, Micah, maybe we should go somewhere a little more... private," I mumbled, putting my hand up to hide my face from view.

He followed my gaze to a group of women standing across the street, gawking at us.

"Yes, I think that would be best. Can you wait in here for just for a minute?" he asked, pointing toward an alley.

Before I had time to tell him no, that I didn't want to stand in the middle of a street by myself where people were staring at me, he had taken off into one of the stores.

I was tempted to follow him, but I was afraid it would create problems if more people saw my injuries. Instead, I decided to do as he asked, wrapping my arms tightly around myself, and trying to conceal my bruised eye with my hair as people continued to ogle at me.

It takes several slow, awkward minutes before Micah returned to the alley. From underneath his shirt, he pulled out a knee-length black sundress, patterned with bright pink flowers.

"Here. I don't really know anything about clothes, but this looked okay," he said, scratching his head as though fashion were a foreign concept.

"It's beautiful," I said with a smile.

"I know it's not very practical for traveling, but I figured you needed something other than my old shirt."

"Micah, how did you get this? We don't have any money," I asked tentatively.

He was quiet for a long moment. "It's not really stealing if I intend to pay them back later, is it?"

I gave him a small smile. "Yes, but it was necessary. Like you said, we have to be discreet, and I'm not exactly pulling that off looking like this," I said, motioning down at my dingy and bloodstained clothes.

Micah turned around to keep watch as I dunked down behind a dumpster to change clothes. I was impressed by Micah's good judgement as I put the dress on, and found that it fit perfectly.

"I suppose you don't want this back?" I said with a playful smile as I held up Micah's dirty black t-shirt.

Micah chuckled and shook his head. I opened the dumpster and threw the filthy shirt inside.

"Now we just need to figure out what to do about all of this," he said, gesturing toward my bruised and bloodied face.      

The dress alone was thoughtful, but Micah had also managed to snag a pair of overlarge sunglasses, and a tiny hairbrush. I put on the glasses and Micah seemed pleased that they conceal my injured eyes well enough.

Using water from my canteen, I was able to rub the dried scabs from my lips and nose. Micah unraveled the bandages from my head to expose the wound on my forehead. I had to suppress a snicker at the expression on his face.

"It looks like it's starting to clot," he said through gritted teeth.

He tore off a clean strip of the bandages and poured some of the rubbing alcohol on it. When he pressed it to my forehead, it didn't burn near as intensely as it did the previous day. Micah rubbed the area around the cut to wipe away any excess blood.

"I think we're officially done with these," he said, throwing the used bandages in the dumpster.

He reached into the first-aid kit and produced a small Band-Aid, which he placed diagonally on my forehead to hide the scrape.

"Better. You should be able to blend in much easier now."

I used the small hairbrush to tame my filthy and tangled hair into a respectable French braid, a difficult feat considering the state I had allowed it to get to. The plait wasn't the most luxurious, but at least it was effective at keeping the hair out of my face.

Gathering our supplies, Micah and I walked out into the busy afternoon streets of New Haven.

"Which direction do you think Fletcher's house is?" I asked, as people wove around us.

"I'm not sure," I said. "The list Abigail made says he lives on 'Pine Crest Way', but that's not listed on the map."

"We'll just have to ask someone for directions, I guess." 

"I don't know, Alexis. We're trying to keep a low profile. I want as few people to know our location as possible."

"I'm not sure what other choice we have," I said . Micah gave a defeated shrug.

"Excuse me?" I said as an elderly lady walked by, but the woman ignored me, clearly in too much of a rush to be bothered by tourists.

"Sorry, pardon me?" I asked a middle aged man, but he was busy on his smart phone and didn't notice me.

"Can you help us find...?" I attempted to ask a group of teenagers, but the girls were distracted by Micah's handsome physique. They skipped away arm-in-arm, giggling and whispering to each other as they went.

"Am I invisible?" I muttered irritably.

"Let me try," Micah said, stepping into the crowded sidewalk. "Sir, we're looking for Pine Crest Way?" he said to a balding man in a dark suit. The man, who appeared to be on an important phone call, tried to sidestep Micah. "Pine Crest Way?" Micah repeated louder and more aggressively, blocking the man's path.

"Take Timber Lane to Gaffins Street. I think it's somewhere by the river," the man grumbled, forcibly maneuvering his way around Micah.

I felt my mouth pop open in shock. Leave it to Micah to get an immediate answer.

"You ready to go?" he asked with a small smile.

"That man did say turn off of Gaffins Street, didn't he?" I asked, looking around us.

We were at the edge of Gaffins Street, near the Nodlock River where the stranger had indicated we could find the road to Fletcher's house, but we were having no luck.

"Obviously it's not here," Micah muttered, throwing his compass on the ground in frustration.

It had been a long day of traveling in the overbearing August heat, and we were both beginning to get ill-tempered.

"Micah...," I said, spotting a small dirt path on our right, barely discernable behind the overgrown shrubbery.

"You think?" Micah asked, unsure. "It doesn't have a street sign."

"It's the only thing around that even resembles a road. I'm not sure we have any other option."

"Okay, but keep an eye out. I don't want to risk an ambush."

We walked over to the dirt path, pushing fallen logs and brush out of our way. The path was small, just big enough for one vehicle to squeeze through. It seemed unlikely that anyone had traveled down this road for several months by the amount of debris that had to be moved, but it was our only possibility.

We continued up the path for at least three miles without any sign of civilization.

"I'm starting to think this was a bad idea," I said, my stomach giving a nervous lurch.

It made me anxious at how far we'd gone without seeing a house, car, anything that indicated that someone lived nearby.

"I'm getting the same feeling," Micah said, looking up at the sun that was getting low in the sky. It would be dark in a matter of hours.

"Well c'mon then," a deep voice called from ahead.

I took a step back, startled by the stranger's sudden appearance. Micah whipped around, putting one arm in front of me in a defensive stance, his other hand wielding a knife from his belt.

A middle aged man, similar to Micah's height and build, was standing on the road ahead of us. He had dark brown skin with rich, chocolate eyes that were set behind a pair of reading glasses. His thick mustache was offset by his bright white teeth, and his hair could barely be seen through his worn baseball cap.

He was wearing a plaid button-up shirt with blue jean overalls that were covered with soil, tattered and torn from years of use. The man looked vaguely familiar to me, although I couldn't place where I knew him from.

The man's eye fell to the knife Micah held in front of us.

"Put that thing away, son, before you hurt yourself," the man said with a playful smile.

"Who are you?" Micah asked. "What do you want?"

"My name's Fletcher," the old man said. "And I've been expecting you, Lexi."

Thank you for reading! If you are enjoying this story so far, don't forget to vote! :)

© Dawn Norwell