Ash's Arc

Chapter 1 of 3

The boy woke on cold dirt and did not know his own name. He sat up between the roots of a wide tree. Red hair stuck to his freckled face. His white and gold robes were streaked with mud. He reached for a memory, any memory, and found nothing. Not his home. Not his parents. Not how he came to lie in this forest. Only the trees, the damp smell of leaves, and a fear that made his hands shake. He stood on thin legs and looked for a road. He found a narrow trail instead. He followed it because standing still felt worse. Whoever he was, he needed someone to tell him. But how could he ask? A boy who could not name himself would sound mad. Anyone would think him touched or dangerous. So he walked, rehearsing words that made no sense. The trees thinned. He saw a small brown farmhouse with peeling siding, and a girl bent over a row of dark soil. She wore magenta clothes stained with dirt. Two long black braids hung down her back. A dagger sat at her belt. She saw him and straightened. Her hand moved near the dagger, then stopped. She studied his ruined fine robes, his bare feet, his shaking hands. "You're a long way from anywhere," she said. "What's your name?" His mouth opened. Nothing came. He tried again and felt heat climb his face. "I don't—" He swallowed. "I don't know." She frowned. "You don't know your name." "I don't know anything." The words spilled out fast now. "Where I'm from. How I got here. I woke up under a tree and my head is empty. I know that's mad. I know I sound mad." He braced for her to laugh or reach for the blade. She didn't. She walked closer and looked hard at his eyes, one thing at a time, the way you check a hurt animal. "You're not lying," she said. It was not a question. "How do you know?" "Liars answer fast." She wiped her hands on her leggings. "You looked scared to answer at all." She thought for a moment. "Everyone needs a name. Your hair's the color of dying coals." She nodded, deciding. "Ash. You can be Ash until you find the real one." Ash. The sound landed somewhere and held. It was not his name. But it was a name, and he had none, and now he did. "I'll help you," she said. "My work's done by dusk. Someone who lost their memory doesn't just wander off. Something did this. We find out what, we find out who you are." High in the branches above them, a white creature with owl-like feathers and folded wings watched without a sound. Its blue eyes tracked the boy. Neither of them looked up. Ash followed the girl toward the farmhouse. He had a name now, and a person who believed him. He did not yet know that both would cost him.