I think that we all know what evil is. We have a sense of what's evil, and certainly killing innocent people is evil. We're less sure about what is good. There's sort of good, good enough, could be better - but absolute good is a little harder to define.

The life on the plains was a simple one. No one lived near them; the town was at least a two days trip from the ranch. Somehow Wynn gets the ranch through the months by selling the animals she breeds, produce they make by things like milking and shearing wool, and training kids on how to ride horses every weekend. Although her life is simple and diurnal, which she loves, it can be hard with only two people working the place and having to care for her bed ridden grandparents at the same time. Luckily, they know Trails. In Eretz, nature leaves behind energy that can be conducted for humanities use, but harnessing this power is rare. Nana says she was born special, maybe she was, but she didn’t feel like it.

Wynnie timidly worked her way up the steps at 5am in the morning. The sky still hung low and dark, draping over Eretz like a cloak patterned with wispy clouds. The animals were asleep and the scent and sizzle of bacon alerted Wynnie that Ash was downstairs preparing breakfast for the family. With a sudden jolt, Wynnie reached out for the cherry wood railing and turned sharply on her heel. The tips of her fingers danced and twirled over the railing. As a kid Wynnie remembered comparing the cherry wood to a condensed version of Mars and her fingers would jump and dance as they were now across the railing like an astronaut in space. Her Popi always slapped her hand when he caught her playing around, scolding her about such childish behavior as a woman should elegantly place her hand over the railing like his beautiful TeaMa. Popi wasn’t very fun, not as much as Ash (who couldn’t help but encourage this behavior once Wynnie made the face, you know, that innocent puppy dog look people can’t resist).

“Rise and shine, TeaMa, Popi!” Wynnie said as she swung the door open and the crisp morning air hit her in the face. That was odd. Why did it feel so cold in here? Wynnie looked around, hearing her Grandparents complaints.

“Our expiration date was last night. Do not disturb!” TeaMa threw the covers over her head.

“I havn’t shined in thirty years.” Popi said with a sigh with a sneeze, “Close that window already shortstack before I die of hypothermia!”

“Come on, Popi. Don’t be so dramatic.” She giggled as her light steps easily stepped across the wooden floor and closed the window. He buzzed annoyed.

Ash hummed as she started breakfast that morning. Oatmeal was first on the menu for Wynnie’s grandparents because they were weak, it being easy to chew and ingest making it an ideal dish for them. As she stirred she thought of all the errands that she had gotten done the night before. Her being a spirit meant that she didn’t sleep, so she had all the time in the world to complete tasks or chores; her life was like a never ending day. She finished up the oatmeal by scooping the portions into two separate bowls topping them with fresh fruit and condensed milk for flavor. Teama didn’t need the condensed milk but Popi couldn’t live without the indulgence. He often complained if Ash forgot to add extra sweetener to his morning breakfast this caused Ash to make sure some sort of sweet came with his meals. This was a preventative to keep him from complaining all morning over a silly thing like breakfast making.

Now she needed to start Wynnie’s breakfast.

“I wonder what she would like this morning?” Ash mumbled to herself as she looked into the pantry searching for a good combination of food items for Wynnie’s breakfast. Her eyes roamed the third shelf when she spotted the bread.

“This could work. I’ll make french toast for her with bacon and eggs on the side.” Ash cheerfully thought.

She reheated the stove and got to work on the french toast, eggs, and bacon. It took her about ten minutes, but the result was a pristine mouth watering breakfast for the three humans in the house. Her next task was to prepare her spirit fruit for herself, so she washed and cut one of the fruits into bite sized pieces placing the slices on a plate to be consumed later with everyone else. Ash loved the spirit fruit she had on hand at the moment, it was her favorite type. Although, she never goes to the spirit world because of her attachment to Wynnie; Ash always had a months supply on hand. This is only possible because of a certain individual who insists on dropping some off for Ash. He never directly hands her the basket of fruits. He often opts to leave the basket on the front porch of the house with a personal note inside, not that Ash would ever tell. With that she placed all the food items onto a tray to be taken upstairs to the hungry bunch of people waiting for the food.

A family is a risky venture, because the greater the love, the greater the loss... That's the trade-off. But I'll take it all.

Seeing Ash walk into the room with trays of food, Wynnie had no sinister premonitions about the day. It seemed like just another monday, innocent except for its essential tediousness, not to mention its vastness. It was cold, and a pinkish blue pale light peeked through the fringe of the trees now--in the summer the sun rose around 6:30--it was lovely. The pink baby breath sky and the early hour conspired to paint the ranch heavenly, like a tintgraph photograph, all jewel pink and even blue. Out on the ranch the youthful strips of grass tangoed in the supernatural breeze. The air in Laini was more crisp than the coastal waters of Ghoul and cleaner than the peeks of the Seven Saint Sisters mountains. However, the winds were usually more subtle, rocking the grass in a crib of gales. Odd how strong the breeze was this morning, Wynnie thought as she sat on the edge of her Grandparents bed.

Central heating and wood and amber lamplights, Ashs own footsteps and the feathers of steam curling into the air from their breakfest made Wynnies stomach growl. Her Popi and Teama burst into laughter after her stomachs howl. Blushing profusely, she arose from her seat and propped up her Grandparents pillows, and her mind wandered adrift in saddening thoughts. The occassional nibble of axiety when a pang of heartache intruded, as pangs of heartache will, but she pushed them aside, resolute, ready to be done with that. She fluffed her TeaMa's pillow one more time before she clutched her coat close to her. It was a barbie pink petticoat with white balls of fur stitched to the buttons and hem of her collar--it'd make any barbie doll jealous and put to shame. Her wavy hair was loose, short, and the color of kindled chestnuts. It shaped her pouting, apple cheeks perfectly.

Just another day.

And then.

Her TeaMa keeled over, scraggling for something to cling onto, someone, anything to intercede her bodies impact, not happily by her own accord, unite with the floor.

"TEAMA!" Wynnies hands flung out. TeaMa trembled. Just barely did Wynnie catch her frail TeaMa in time. That pang of heartache struck a din within her again. TeaMa felt lighter than she did a couple years ago. With extreme care Wynnie laid her back down, her lips chugged to keep up with her brain, but the adrenaline geared her into overdrive. Popi scooted to TeaMa's side, sweeping her up into his arms. TeaMa rocked back and forth.

And then.

"Gotcha!" TeaMa gripped her husbands arms around her, kackling like an old witch, brewing this haze full of sparks into the air.

"I thought you were dying Tracy!" Popi shoved her to the side, his face more hot and twisted of red wrinkled shades than Mars. Her own face reflected Popi's.

"That wasn't funny TeaMa." Wynnies voice was cold, torrid and cut like the breeze outside. Time was timed, each second ticking away. Time flies over everyone, but leaves its shadow behind. How did it get so late so soon? Before someone knows it, it's night before its afternoon. December comes before it's June. Time is the most valuable thing on earth: time to think, time to act, time to extend our fraternal relations, time to become better men, time to become better women, time to become better and more independent citizens. Time is all Wynnie thinks about, especially how much time she has with her Grandparents. Those seasoned coons turned 101 this year. Popi wasn't kidding when he said they were past their expiration dates.

"I was only kidding, Honey. Don't be such a girl." she swatted the air. Popi grumbled. "I am going to live plenty more years to bother you three, don't worry! Good morning, Ash. " TeaMa chimed.

The chill of a foreshadowing tremble made Wynnie speak up, rubbing her arms, "Morning Ash," Wynnie ignored it, assuming it was just the odd cold breeze biting her looney. Immediantly, Wynnie brightened at the sight of her Spirit. There was something about Ash that made Wynnie feel safe. Just like the way fire dances inside a fireplace.

Ash picked the two breakfast trays up and started for the stairs to bring the awaiting family the oatmeal and french toast. As she made her way up the steps she sensed Wynnie’s uneasiness and wondered what had lead to Wynnie’s disturbed emotional state. Ash would ask her about it later on; maybe during breakfast would be a good time? Ash reached the top of the steps and continued her path to Teama’s and Popi’s room. When Ash came to the door she used her elbow to open turn the knob nudging it open just enough to sidestep into the room with the two trays in hand closing it behind her with the back of her heel. The first thing Ash saw was Teama quietly chuckling to herself with an unamused Popi next to her. The next was Wynnie beside the grandparents tending to them.

“ Mourning Wynnie, You guys ready for some breakfast? I have french toast, eggs, and bacon for sunshine this morning.” Ash said smiling to Wynnie as she started to place Wynnie’s and her breakfast plates on the small table that was within the room, near the foot of the bed. Ash then made her way to Teama’s side of the bed with one tray of oatmeal placing it on the old woman’s lap.

“Some oatmeal for the lovely lady.” Ash smirked as she reached across the bed handing the second tray of oatmeal to Popi. “And Oatmeal for Mr. Grumpy this morning.”

Popi scrunched his face at Ash’s comment and barked “Have some respect for you elders numbskull. I’m not grumpy for your information, I’m just well versed in the world thank you very much.” While he pointed his spoon in Ash’s direction tracing her movement around the room until she sat at the small table.

“Oh Popi, don’t be such a sourpuss and eat your breakfast.” Teama chided with a playful tap to Popi’s shoulder. “She’s only having a little fun. Live a little will you?”

Ash laughed at the old couple. Mornings like these are what she lived for. The calm and enjoyable atmosphere coupled with family members is what she truly treasured. Ash popped a piece of spirit fruit into her mouth as she leaned back into her chair while listening to the couple’s playful banter. Teama and Popi can both be pretty witty at times, but Teama often won their playful banter bouts. Ash grabbed another piece of fruit as she swallowed the previous and popped the new piece into her mouth when she directed her attention to Wynnie.

“How was your morning, Wynnie? Anything interesting happen while I was down making breakfast?” Ash questioned while tilting her head to the side. “Are you feeling ok?”

"Really, now, the freezer?"

Wynnie shook her head."Just the usual morning." Wynnie said with that certain wry and innocent smile of hers. Over the years shes found that was all it took, that lazy smile, and she could tell a lie, or even a truth, without worrying about her true feelings becoming known. Something like this obviously wasnt picked up by her Grandparents. Although they were strict they raised her to be an honest girl. She'd just sorta picked up lieing along the way of watching Ash. When younger she didn't notice the subtle changes in Ash when she lied, even now it was hard to tell, but every once in a full moon she caught a glimpse of the white lies. It was never anything big. Usually it was like what wynnie was doing now and didn't want to bother Ash with small petty thoughts.

The two Grandparents went at their odd flirting game while they ate, bickering, hitting, before Teama showered Popi on kisses and melted his grouchy exterior. His cheeks would become a sheen fever, scolding her for displaying these affections in front of others. Teama didn't care. Love like this can conquor anything, she thought, even death.

Wynnie shrugged, hiding the unsettled feeling in her stomach and gathered her hair in a miniture messy bun, stabbing chopsticks to it to secure it at the side of the nape of her neck. Also something Ash had taught her. Pushing away that drop of shadows feeling in her stomach was hard, it kinda stuck to her like honey. Trapping. Sticky. She nestled into her seat at the small table and dug into breakfest, savoring each bite of Ash's love in the juicy bacon and sweetness of the bread, temporarily able to forget those nasty feelings and pin it on just being hungry.

Pressing the spoon into her lip, Wynnie interjected,"By the way Teama, did you eat all my yogurt this morning?"

"I didn't eat all of it."

"Oh, so it ate itself?" Wynnie shrieked so loudly Teama thought she heard the rafters in the ceiling shake."Did the spoon eat it? Oh wait, I know. The carton ate it."

"Actually, I think the freezer ate it." Teama grinned wickedly. That same smug grin reflected across Wynnies face.

"Really, now, the freezer?" Wynnie rolled her eyes, making a face at Ash. These two, she thought, covering her mouth. Wynnie tried to hide her laughter, but it was impossible. Teama made her laugh too much, and she loves her despite the scares. She loves her and they love her, but it wasn't enough. Love didn't conquor death.

Ash and Wynnies eyes locked for a single moment before everything shattered into flames and piercing vines.

And then Teama and Popi... died... right there in front of her eyes.

And hung there like lifeless dolls with vacant eyes, their heavy bags of flesh staying held up by spears of vines.

And Wynnie screamed.

All Ash’s ears captured was Wynnie’s scream and that pained, agonizing scream had implanted a heavy guilt within her heart. However, Ash didn’t have the time to entertain the new found guilt she needed to bring Wynnie to safety, so she quickly ran to Wynnie’s side bringing her arm around Wynnie’s shoulders drawing her close.

“Come on Wynnie. I know it’s painful, but we have to leave.” Ash Whispered sadly “It’s not safe here love.”

With that Ash touched one of the many vines near her and set it ablaze. The fire spread and burned everything around them to ash leaving them untouched. It left them face to face with the verdure wielding spirit who had caused all of this pain by destroying the very reality Ash treasured. Ash was not one to be crossed and this spirit is going to feel her wrath. Ash slowly stood from her place next to Wynnie her bangs shading her expression.

“Who are you?” Ash baited “Because you have some nerve coming to OUR home and hurting the ones I hold dear.”

“Hurting? Oh, I think you happen to be very mistaken.” the spirit taunted “I’m here to annihilate all of you and I’m about to finish the job!”

The vines began slithering towards Ash at blinding speeds. When the spiked vines came within lighting distance Ash took no hesitation in flaming the offending weeds to a burnt crisp. Ash smirked it had been a long while since she had been in a fight. It felt oddly enjoyable and exhilarating almost liberating. Ash couldn’t fight all out at the moment however. She needed to conserve her energy as much as possible. Ash can’t afford to use all of her energy here within this battle, so she would have to end this quickly.

“So, are weeds all you can make sprout? They seem kinda…. I don’t know, dead?” Ash taunted

“My darling vines are NOT WEEDS! They only seem that way because you are burning my poor babies to death you pyromaniac!” the spirit huffed as she directed more vines towards Ash becoming more frustrated by the second. The spirit’s actions became more desperate as more of her precious vines were burned. Then the spirit saw Wynnie crying within the rubble of her decimated home and smiled.

Seeing the smile on the verdure spirit’s face Ash commented “Hey, Weedie what are you smiling about? You are at a terrible disadvantage here; I don’t see any reason for your smile.”

“First thing. The name’s Lavender and secondly, maybe you should pay more attention to your little friend over there.” the verdure spirit now named Lavender smiled spitefully.

Ash’s heart stopped and she immediately rushed back to Wynnie. Ash watched almost hopelessly as the vines began to rush past Ash. This made her desperate causing her to use a burst of her magic in order for her to barely make it in time to shield Wynnie from the oncoming threat. Never before had Ash felt this much pain as she felt the spirit particle dispersing themselves from her wounds. She may have shielded Wynnie, but Ash was now standing with multiple cuts and stab wounds. With a painful cry Ash burned the vines that had impaled her being and quickly worked her magic to begin weaving the lacerations closed that riddled her being. Ash collapsed to her knees as her injuries healed. With the damage she recently took Ash wouldn’t be able to fight for much longer. She needed a miracle fast or she wasn’t coming out of this fight.

”Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenfed.”

Wynnie smacked Ash’s arm away from her and pressed her forehead against the floor. Her ugly cries splintered the silence. No. No. Were they alive? Or dead? She strained of knowing that, and waiting, waiting to know something by never actually knowing, it was as old as war itself and it was the worst kind of dragged-out, miserable, gradual understanding she could think of. She crawled to the bed and swept their bodies in the shadows of her arms. The warmth of their bodies were gone. And Wynnie knew no just kidding was coming after this. They were gone. She could smell the wound, even through the gusted smoke and herb fragrance. Despair moved through her, restless, refusing to settle.

A sound hissing like breath through teeth dived at Wynnie. Another minute and Wynnie saw the elegant frame of Ash blast energy; it resounded around Wynnie, the cackle of flames roared into the air, disintegrating the vines. Ash fell to her knees.
Wynnie tried to focus on the vine woman outside of the window, her piercing, steady gaze gave rise to animosity. She burst into a flurry of giggles before shooting more vines their way. Wynnie flinched, trying to focus on the particles around her; to draw them in to form a shield, but she couldn’t focus. This was wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wynnie wanted her dead, she didn’t want to shield. And then finally, at the last waning second, streaks of white lasers shot out from around her and sliced the vines into shreds. It cut through them, covering the vine woman in a thousand thin surface cuts.
And then suddenly the air around them went thin. Her head snapped behind her to see a hole open and a man with wolfish
features climb through; snatching them up in each arm, he hauled them back into the portal despite Wynnies kicks and screams.

“Stop it, you pesk!” he growled, and added with a grumble as the portal closed, “I fucking hate teenagers.”










This time when Hush got her back, he dropped the crying rag doll after entering the portal back home and rushed forward to the tipsy looking tree-house up ahead. What had she been thinking!

He swung the door open and yelled, “Hiro, get your ass down here and help that wet thing outside!” re-adjusting Ash in his arms, he slid his hand under her knee and held her upper body up with the other. He pulled her close to his chest and searched her eyes. She might have looked like someone else entirely, her face fashioned a feeling. What feeling? Pain. Looking at her he felt hot, explosive and flustered and worried. His face bore the strain of endured agony, and his breathing was uneven. Not because he was tired, but because he was furious. Never stopping. He blazed with intensity. He kept forward at a quick pace: up the stairs, down the halls, and into what had been Ash’s room. He hadn’t changed the place since she left. Setting her onto the bed, he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. She was covered in a fever sheen, sweat trickled down her body and she breathed heavily despite her healed wounds. His jaw clenched.

“What were you thinking? You idiot.” He growled, low and hoarse. A warming and softening—a pull drew him to lean over her. As his hand cupped her cheek and his thumb traced circles, he narrowed his eyes. The look he shared with her was so fraught with malice.

With a dark growl he whispered, “Who did this to you?”

Ash’s vision was blurring by the second her body suddenly becoming numb. She couldn't feel a single thing, not even the pain of her recently healed wounds could be felt. Ash realized that her consciousness was fading.

“No no no no no no, I can’t. I need to stay awake and fight. I can’t……” Ash desperately pleaded as she drifted into an empty blackness. She failed to hit the floor however, when a tall, handsome, man appeared from a rip in space catching her before she had hit the ground whisking her away to the spirit realm.




All Ash felt was an engulfing warmth and a strange security permeating through her body. The sheets of the bed were soft and quite fluffy almost as if she were back in the spirit realm. Ash took a deep breath and stretched her limbs before she decided to slowly sit upright in the bed. She felt a sharp pain pounding within her skull as she rose, so she opted for the fetal position instead of the intended sitting position. Her breathing became more labored by second with each sharp intake of oxygen. Ash clutched her chest when it suddenly tightened causing a shock to pulse through her being. Her rising temperature caused her to sweat and shudder as her body now failed to determine hot or cold.

“What is… Happening to...me?” Ash barely whispered as she felt another wave of pain flow through her, only this wave was different from the previous waves. This particular wave had been so great that it had caused Ash to go completely cold. One moment she felt numb and frozen then the next she felt as if her body was being brutally beaten and broken into indefinite amount of pieces. All Ash could do was let out a painful scream while desperately pleading for someone to help her.

Hiro's ears perked at Hush’s return.

“Hiro, get your ass down here and help that wet thing outside!” Hush shouted to Hiro who was calmly reading a spell book on the couch in the tree house.

Hiro’s interest was piqued however, when he had heard that he was to help a wet thing. What was this wet thing he was to aid and who was the girl Hush was carrying to the room down the hall? He had so many questions and almost no time to ask them since Hush had disappeared from his sight. What was he to do now? Wait, that was right; there was a wet thing outside he needed to help.

With that thought in mind he descended the steps and exited the tree house to see a girl sobbing near the entrance. Hiro was at a loss for what to do. He had had little contact with other people because he had lived within this spiritual realm with only Hush for so long, so Hiro did what he always did when he was curious or confused. Hiro bend down next to the girl and poked her in the face. The girl showed no reaction at all to his poke, so he poked her again. There was still no response, so he thought of other things he could do. Hiro’s brows furrowed as he thought harder, and harder, and harder, and harder, until he had a lightbulb go off in his head. He quickly stood, sprinted into the tree house, grabbed a tissue box, and sprinted his way back to the sobbing girl. He bent down next to her again, and put them on the grass next to the hysterical sobber.

Hiro failed to coax a reaction from her once more, so he nudged her with the box only to have it snatched from his hand, thrown across the field, have it fly through the dimensional loop, and hit him square in the back of his head. Hiro acted as if nothing happened, since he was used to that happening when Hush had first started training him. Hiro hadn't felt the collision of the tissue box into the back of his skull. Hiro started to think again. He gave a nod when he came up with a perfect idea. Maybe she was hungry. He ran up the steps of the tree house, went into the pantry, grabbed a loaf of freshly baked bread, and brought it back down to the girl. He once again bent down to her level and nudged her with the bread. This time she turned away from him. Well that was progress right?

“I’m here.” And he was. Carefully sitting on the edge of the bed, he held her. “I’ve got you.” A range of emotions conflicted his face as he watched her writhe in pain. He didn’t look away. The slight healing magic he had warmed his hands in attempts to calm her, soothe the pain. Making a deep sound in the back of his throat, he clutched her cheeks and pulled her face inches from his lips. Then stopped. He pressed his forehead against her, his ears, dark as night, bent down. When he pulled away his eyes darted across her face. Cursing, he set her back down as if she was glass.

Scrambling to his feet, he frantically searched the room for some herbs, or pain drugs. He threw open drawers. He didn’t bother to close them. The cabinets? Nothing. He growled, throwing his arms into the air; and then he saw it, across the room on the desk. Hiro had just finished making a bag from last night. He snapped it up in his hands and pulled out a pill. He dashed to the door. He flung it open. And then looked back at her.

His eyes ran over her as he whispered, “I’ll be back.” And the door slammed shut behind him. He was quick, running downstairs and filling up a glass with water. As he went back up the stairs, thoughts pounded with each step. Something was wrong with her, possibly more than just these wounds. He knew it, his gut felt it. Not once had he seen Ash hurt this bad, or go down so fast. As much as he made her out to be someone who needed protection, he knew that that was farther from the truth. Or was he? Had he put her on a pedestal?

Flinging the door open, he stormed back into her room and slid onto her bed. With care, he slid his hand under her neck.

“Hey, hey. I have medicine, I need you to drink it,” he whispered, “Come on, just for a second.” He readied the water for her lips and began to lift her head. “You’re almost there.”

”Everything I've ever loved is gone.”

She turned away from him as her hands started to shake uncontrollably. Her grandparents hands, their hands that had dressed her and held her as a babe ,in sleep, and in love, the cheeks she had kissed—all gone. Pierced. Burned by now. Turned into mere ashes. She cried out, “No!” the word pulled long and pleading, and then she spun on whoever this boy was, grabbing his shoulders, nails digging in, grabbing him and shaking him before burying her head into his chest. Still clenching his shoulders tightly, she cried. Never stopping. She didn’t even care if this snot got all over his clothes.