XI — Vexations

Nightfall had landed, and everyone in the refugee town had gone inside since the clouds had piled onto each other like stacks, darkening the area even more. They threatened to blow a mighty blizzard, seemingly endless, but Sam had known for a while now that a blizzard threat like this never happened or was only fleeting.

He still took the chance.

Sam is standing with select arrows. He had the blessing of wind mana, but he wasn’t as lucky with snow. Frost itself directly interfered with his own magic, and he had enough resolve in him that, if he wanted to protect them all; Ellen, Roger, Kat; he needed to practice all the more seriously, towards a Sam he could confidently regard.

A Sam that guards the innocents.

A Sam… that was a hero.

A lofty goal, and he knew it.

The blizzard came surging, rushing down from the clouds, emerging to collide with any structure that came into contact with it: a fierce force of fiery intent; a powerful force of nature. Sam kept still, the snow aggressively threatening to throw him off-balance. Frosty particles slammed to his face and body, warning him of imminent frostbite he could experience within seconds. The quiver he had filled with frostbite and the snow immediately spread towards the bow and the arrows Sam had selected.

The target practice itself was worse than the haze.

The breeze was long gone. The haze itself had dissipated to nothingness. All that’s left was the blizzard-enhanced snow, flowing into a pattern that could make one of the kids cry in immense pain.

Sam’s eyes remained closed.

Steady.

He opened his eyes, frost appearing to slam towards him.

Breathe.

He drew his bow, frost going through every perimeter of his bow and arrow.

He took a deep breath, snow rushing down, frost particles threatening to asphyxiate him.

As he exhaled, the breath forming a misty cloud in front of him, he shot. He had all of his senses challenged by the snow storm, the frost even attempting to block his functions so that he couldn’t do anything.

However, he remained.

Steady.

He persevered.

Breathe.

He has calmed.

Even after everything that had happened to him, Sam was still himself. Even as everything threatened him, just like the snow storm threatened to do to him, he still remained. He may not have been the strongest, but now he was ready to face challenges if it meant protecting the people he had cherished these past weeks.

The arrow became Sam’s dedication to them.

To Byleck, whom he had buried between days from ashes he found of himself, and was forced to end the cycle of darkness within the two of them.

To Roger, whom he had seen recovering and slowly being able to walk without crutches. He had seen his darkness burn out through the fire of willpower and determination, Roger even indirectly acknowledging Sam as the protector.

To Kat, who, from within her small frame, looked at what Sam had done, and still chose to stay, despite everything that had happened to them. She’d recognized him as a valiant shield, even if unable to take down enemies quickly, remained impregnable to fear.

To Ellen.

The young woman who had rescued him and nursed him back to health twice. The young woman who had shown him that vulnerability is not weakness. The young woman who, by the grace of her own volition and a gift of healing, became the anchor to all of the children.

He owed everything to Ellen.

The woman he ended up cherishing the most.

Sam lowered his bow, his stance steadily relaxing as he breathed deeply.

The blizzard had passed. The snow storm is gone.

All that remained was Sam and his set of selected arrows. He looked over the distance to see what the mist would unravel like a cloak at an illusionist’s parlor or a stage theater’s blinds.

The mist had finally unraveled.

It revealed one truth to Sam.

A truth of his readiness. A truth he is ready to face. A truth of his worthiness.

He walked back towards his tent, shaking off snow as he went, leaving the target practice area by the clearing, the lodged arrow piercing through the centermost spot of the target.

A bullseye.

A sign.

Perhaps even a calling.

Perhaps he had found a name to call it.

Determination.

As Sam walked through the snow covered street, a woman had been staring at him. In fact, she’d been staring at his movements ever since he had felt steady; ever since he breathed deeply; ever since he was focused enough to be locked into a single goal. She had watched him with pure unbridled desire, clinging behind a tent. She squeezed the tent fabric, the snow coating her already white globes. She had panted, not out of exhaustion, but out of something different.

Something primal.

Something raw.

Something impure.

It contrasted with Sam’s focus enough for him to turn around that way. He himself was surprised—normally he would have known someone was around the way, especially if they were staring at him. It was something Diana had taught him during training. For some reason, though, her gaze had completely slipped from his senses, and he was intrigued, but just like Ellen, cautious.

“Who’s there?” he asked, calmly.

He made sure not to raise his bow that he still equipped by himself, not slung like he’d usually equip it. He carefully walked towards the alleyway between two big tents, itself a dark area that someone could have used to hide from him. He readied himself, walking slowly just in case someone had taken him with a surprise attack.

He peeked.

No one.

Not a single soul.

Then, in a turn of events that ended up shocking Sam. The traveler, Vera; or so she called herself, appeared behind Sam. As he turned around, his eyes widened as he recognized the form anywhere. Vera had been the one staring at him from the clearing down towards his tent area.

But the lush silver hair that seemed to glow despite the color of the snow, the gloves, the velvet eyes, her mesmerizing face, her enormously well endowed figure that caught the attention of not just men but also women, and her wistful expression that suggested something with regards to Sam…

It was unmistakable.

It was right in front of him.

She was not “Vera”.

She also kissed him. Deeply. However, unlike the one he shared with Ellen on the same street around the same time of night, this one filled with passion. This one roared with energy. It felt one-sided. The woman who called herself Vera had her eyes closed, some tears forming from her eyelids as she held his face through it all. The snow had calmed down but her heart beat ran in consecutive beats that could be likened to someone running up a mountaintop.

Sam, on the other hand, had his eyes wide open. It was more than just the fact that he didn’t expect this coming from “Vera”. It was closer to a sensation he hadn’t experienced and would have lived better if he didn’t experience it.

Because this woman, who had just kissed him, is someone he knew.

Someone who had loved him.

And Sam never returned the gesture back.

Because he knew why.