The beginning of strife is as when one letteth out water: Therefore leave off contention, before it be meddled with.
Proverbs 17 vs 14 (King James Version)
Three birds joined the others on the window— flitting red breasted robins right on the tails of each other. Tiny, delicate things that could sit on her finger together, but expert fliers. They had done their best, but even then they had nothing to report. They stood together in a row on the sill, tweeting softly.
The rest—a collared mourning dove, a blue-jay and a messenger pigeon—hadn't had much luck either.
That made six.
When they were joined by a witty thrush, or that's what it thought it was, a cockerel that immediately after talking to her started chattering about how it couldn't understand how no hen wanted a partner as handsome as him, two bushy tailed squirrels—one was grouchy enough to complain about everything and the other was behaving now, but when they'd first met, it was so wired and mischievous that all it could think about was eating and then nailing everything that moved with nutshells—the standard for ambassadors of the woodland creatures was dropping fast—and several more pigeons, even fatter than the first—she had quite the crowd around her.
She waited to see if any more would come— pigeons didn't exactly have the habit of dropping by in an orderly fashion.
What? The preference for pigeons?
Why else? —rough appearances and manners aside, pigeons were great assets. They were everywhere, yet common enough to be ignored—same with lizards, houseflies and in this city, mosquitoes apparently—but the pigeons were the most organised; they'd had years of practice. They had large networks over the city for dealing with huge swaths of information from the mundane to the terribly secret just for themselves—and anyone who could listen. And they were easy, especially when they tried not to be.
Humans were never the first to have the idea of using them as messengers.
So, piece of advice for next time: watch your mouth around a pigeon, word travelled farther than you'd think. There were things she and half the world's bird population didn't need to know.
It seemed there were no more coming. The ones there rolled in over themselves for a few seconds before one with a green head and plume climbed over the rest and tutted to her—the hierarchy had been decided. She held out an index finger which it placed its chin on, and listened to its low coos—
The pigeon stepped back. The result was basically the same.
If even they couldn't find anything…
Maybe she really wasn't in the city. But Nature found that hard, no, she didn't want to believe—it would be too easy. It wasn't ever that easy.
She glanced at the strange court she held once again—they were getting loud. She looked out the window towards the sky—a swarm of tiny insects and termites suddenly flew past the window. The birds scattered and burst forth after them, chirping excitedly if their beaks weren't already full with the easy meal.
For the woodlanders, she squeezed her palms together and when she opened them, they were full of a kind of nut they wouldn't find in their forest. Rewards, small though they were—even though none of them had brought news that put a smile on their mistress' face. It was her way of dismissal.
Sunshine and rain in both success and failure on one hand, and survival of the fittest on the other—this was what it meant to serve the Personification of Nature.
She shut the window and left the room.
"What did the birds say?" Love asked as soon as she came out, a faint smile on her face. She had been waiting beside the door, back to the wall. Today, she wore a short white dress that just covered her knees and a blue cropped jacket with the sleeves rolled up. Nature herself was dressed in emerald and dark green robes. It was tradition—colours were never more important than at a Meeting.
"They haven't seen anything."
"Alright." Looked like she was expecting that, "So, we do this then?"
That was certain. Nature nodded, face set with determination.
They headed downstairs. Love had managed to set aside a conference room upstairs for their… special purpose that morning, and one of the waiting rooms on the ground floor that connected directly with the outside for them to gather. Nature still wasn't sure whether she was the owner or not—but she got around.
Someone was already seated on a couch there. Royal blue blouse and dark trousers, she was leaning close to an hourglass set on a tall stool beside he, legs crossed. Eyes closed, it was if she was listening to the grains as they fell. Or sleeping.
Nature wouldn't be surprised by either one.
Touching the hourglass, it wasn't just there for aesthetics or anything— it was also tradition that when a Call was sent out, the Meeting was held exactly three days later. No matter where they were in the world.
In other words—Hop on a flight, swim the oceans, ride a horse—get here somehow.
And they only had from evening to morning, then morning to evening and evening to morning once again.
No, wait, there was a new way of reckoning time—it would be how much then? — Yes, seventy-two hours. A good bit better, but not by a lot.
So when she had arrived at dawn a day later—donning the yellow T-shirt of some nature summer camp Nature had never heard about, a duffel bag in one hand while the other held the limp remains of a snake that had had its neck broken—she was early. Extremely so.
"I'm returning this," she said to Nature and thrust the scaly thing forward, "Send to me whatever you want—but not to the showers of my campers at one o'clock in the morning—" then passed by her through the door so that Nature noticed the word Counsellor stretched along the back of her shirt in bold print.
When they asked, she explained that knowing the rest, some would be right on time, more would be late, and so to even things out, it wouldn't be strange for her to go the extreme and arrive early.
Balance made sense like that sometimes.
Love had scrambled to put her up for board somewhere upstairs. Nature hadn't even wanted to ask how she'd arrived so fast.
When they walked in, she raised her head and double-tapped the hourglass. "Less than two hours," and went right on back to listening. Marcus remained at the door that led to the rest of the building.
There were only three—scanty by all regards. To Nature, it was no matter for now—they'd been about this many at the two-hour mark plenty of times in the past, and there was a full house at the end. She was hoping for that now—well, with one less.
They sat down—Love on a high stool, she on an armchair—and waited.
Around twenty minutes to go, the door linked to the outside opened. A tall and slender woman strolled in, pulling off a motorcycle helmet. The face underneath it wasn't particularly remarkable, it was rather shifty—like it could have belonged to anyone from the nameless soldier on the battlefield to the highest commanding officer—Nature was sure that's what she was going for too.
But her hair—even she couldn't understand exactly what she was trying to do there. The only ordinary thing about it was that it was in a single colour: platinum blonde. Other than that… she'd have to use a human term, choppy, literally—and by that she meant it looked like she'd taken a pair of scissors, or a knife, and just started hacking away then as if to make it better, she'd pulled whatever of it she could into one single braid that curled over her shoulder to the front. Frankly, she'd seen wild coyotes with better coats.
It couldn't have fit her more.
And by Heaven, she still hadn't lost that unsightly taste for leather—she was smothered in it from head to toe, every bit the picture of a motorcycle gang leader, all black except a slash of red on the front of her shirt and a bandana of the same shade around her neck. And her mantle, no, jacket too—or rather, that's what it was now—Nature's lips pulled a little tighter, she'd added at least a couple hundred more inscriptions to it since they'd last met—little red dots and criss-crosses extending along the black leather like stars.
Still, these individual maladies managed to come together on a lithe, yet slightly muscular frame, to give something actually… presentable.
She couldn't be pegged as pretty, no, but Nature would admit she looked impressive—a valiant warrior ready for battle—someone who took up space— elegant, noble, refined even.
And she was… for the first five seconds you knew her.
Then she sat down.
She descended heavily into the couch with a weight you wouldn't expect from her, almost upending Balance seated at the other end, and slammed a muddy boot on the coffee table so hard Nature expected it to crack and rested her helmet on her lap. It made her wonder how one could look like that and yet be so gruff. That's what this one had always been to her—an oxymoron of oxymorons.
And maybe a little bit of the word without the "oxy".
Love didn't even flinch, "War," she said, "Didn't we once agree you'd ask before putting your feet up anywhere? There's a stool for you right there—" She pointed to a low one beside the table.
"Oh, sorry," the woman responded, and without lifting her leg, dragged it across the table over onto the stool.
Nature scoffed.
The hillbilly—no, calling her that was an insult to hillbillies everywhere— yawned, and waved an arm, calling, "You looking to say something to me?"
She didn't bother looking in her direction—it would be a waste of energy.
Speaking of, she observed the almost empty hourglass—only about ten minutes…
They were still missing three.
Finally, there was a faint knock at the door before it opened to reveal yet another woman. But this one… she couldn't exactly describe it in a way you'd understand but—she looked younger than any of them there, but older too, like she couldn't decide which one she wanted to be. She was dressed in black as well, but instead of choking, tight-fitted leather, it was soft wool and cotton underneath an overcoat that terminated at the cuff of her trousers. Simplistic and practical. The colour brought out a contrast with her face—she wasn't pale, but her skin wasn't rosy either—it was just… there.
She stepped in just as the very last grains in the hourglass ran out. Nature almost found it in herself to crack a smile—right on time, down to the very last second.
No one else would be coming. She really wasn't coming.
As the newcomer went and seated herself on one of the lone armchairs, a certain heaviness had settled in the already silent room.
"Five," War said, a little mystified, "How long has it been since we were only five?"
Nature had to restrain herself from latching on to that remark and going with it. She could think of a lot to say, but it would likely be badly received. Trust the plan, she reminded herself, wait for Love.
The girl didn't disappoint, "Welcome, sisters," she began from where she sat, and lowered her head to them, "Thank you for honouring the call of the Seven once again."
Balance raised her head and nodded while War murmured something in acknowledgement.
"You might be wondering why exactly we called this meeting," she continued, "So I'll get straight to it—we'd like to share with you some information on things we noticed recently and see what we can make of it together."
Nature stood—that was her cue. But before she could speak, someone cut in— of course it was War.
"Hey, hey," she waved an arm to stop them, still leaning back into the couch, "Why exactly are you two the ones taking charge of this Meeting anyway?" She turned to Love, "I only came here because you were the one that sent the message—not because I want to listen to someone who may very well the reason we have one of the lowest turn-outs in our history—"
She faced Nature directly this time, "The next time I find one of your snakes curled up around my bike, I'm going to make you eat it."
None of the others said anything, but Nature wasn't going to let anyone speak for her anyway.
"Well, I'm so sorry that my method of delivery seems to have touched one of your sore spots—it was all I could think of to reach you all at once," She wasn't concerned if War found it insincere or not—she'd given an apology. "Concerning the rest," she went on, "Yes, two of us are missing—" she walked to the middle of the room, "And in case you didn't have eyes," she couldn't resist adding, "—one just happens to be our Leader."
"Do you now understand why we're anchoring the Meeting…" she tilted her head and smiled, "…Or do I need to explain some more for you? —I'll make sure it's very simple—"
"You little twerp," War spat at her. Alright— it was worse than that. This was the more friendly version. If she was angry enough to curse—
It wouldn't do to get belligerent with the Personification of War— Especially not when she could try channelling that aggression towards something a little more… useful.
"Don't take it out on me," she advised, raising her hands, "Love and I have just stepped in to fill in the duties it seems someone else can't be bothered to fulfil anymore," Her eyes swept around, exchanging gazes with each one of them present, "I think we've all made it clear where our priorities lie. The question is what to do next—"
Sorry Love.
War leaned forward like she was waiting for what she would say next. Balance only looked mildly interested. Love was quiet. The last one—Nature had never been able to read her. Marcus looked like he wanted to say something, but she really didn't care what.
She'd learned from last time that if she wanted to remain in control of the situation, it wouldn't be good to be the only one pushing forward from here on—she decided to throw it open, "So, I put it to you, sisters—what do you think we should do about this?"
There was a moment of silence before War let out a sarcastic laugh.
"I can't believe you— "put it to us,"—You really think we don't know what you want," she waved a hand up and down at Nature, "You might as well cry make me leader, make me leader." and then cackled at her own joke. Wiping her eyes, she placed a hand on her knee, feet firmly on the ground, and said, "Alright, I'll give you the benefit of the doubt—since you're the one who's posing the question, I think you should have the honour of making the first suggestion—" She looked to the sides, no one opposed, "So let's hear it—what would you suggest we do?"
It was clearly a trap, but did she really think she'd be afraid to say it? Nature knew an opportunity when she saw one. And if her spirit said to strike, she did.
"I propose we hold a referendum on making the position of Leader of the Seven subject to periodical change from now on."
It was more than satisfying to watch War's mouth drop open, despite what it could potentially cost—she probably hadn't been expecting her to say it that way. There were other ways of getting to the top. If this passed, then even if she weren't chosen the first time, there'd still be many other chances. The only she wondered was why hadn't she thought of it sooner?
The others had gone into stunned silence too, with even Balance on the edge of her seat. Love shut her eyes. Only one hadn't really been stirred—the woman, actually, she was more of a girl—in black calmly raised her hand, "I am against it."
Nature frowned. "And why is that?" She hadn't expected opposition from here.
"As you would remember," the girl said, "we are only five here—incomplete— we do not make for a proper vote. And I feel it would be unfair to vote on a matter while the party concerned is not present."
"I think I would expect you out of all of us to have better judgement than that," Nature said. To add her name to the back of that sentence would have been ridiculous.
"No," the girl countered, "I have no better judgement." And she said no more.
Nature was annoyed—she'd actually liked this one a little. Now, the feeling was dying.
War bellowed out another laugh, looking like she didn't know if she could pat the girl on the back or not. She decided against it. "Good one," she finally called, then yelled, "And I second it—I too will not vote." Nature wanted to pop her ears— did she have to be so loud?
Balance raised her hand too, "Normally, I have no problem going either way with these decisions, but in this case—I also feel it not wise to meddle with the method of appointment—I oppose."
War hooted, "And that's three out of five against—" Her eyes met Nature's, "There's no need for anyone else to even say anything. You have your answer, Nature—rejected."
Nature wasn't impressed.
"Don't you realise the proposal benefits us all?" she asked, looking around, "Any of us would be able to step up as Leader at any time."
The girl in black shifted in her armchair, "Thank you, but no thank you—" she wrinkled her nose, "—I don't see myself stepping up to that role for any reason, and I don't need it either. If you're going to keep pushing for it—" she rose, "—it's better I just leave."
"Yeah, not everyone's as desperate as you are," War piped.
Nature was very close to plotting a motorcycle accident.
But there was no choice, she had to drop it—not because it was three against one of Balance or War—those ones she could press on, overpower, and prevail against eventually. It was the first one that really sealed the deal—when the Personification of Judgement herself spoke against a decision—
Needless to say, it would be foolish to continue to pursue it.
Her resoluteness had been what Nature had admired about her—who would have thought she'd see it working against her.
But she couldn't afford to let her leave. Love had warned about this—and they did need all the help they could get.
As if to add insult to injury, Balance continued, "Have you even sought permission for putting forward that idea?"
Nature gritted her teeth—that was a sore point for her. "I've tried. And that's part of the reason we're here—Rifts are closing all over the place."
The timing—it almost felt as if Heaven specifically didn't want her anywhere close.
Her hand clenched into a fist. All the more reason she was going to get to the bottom of it. For that, she had to be a whole lot more accommodating.
"Alright, fine then—I will drop it," she ground out lowly, "But we can't stay waiting on Time all our days." She didn't expect them to understand her urgency, but— she had no intention of letting them delay her.
This time, the rebuttal came not from War, but Judgement, "It's not her fault we are where we are now—you remember the trouble you caused last time."
Nature's gaze hardened. Remember what she said about liking her just a tad bit more than the others? Dead—the feeling was completely dead.
She waited a second before replying "Yes—I will not deny that I made mistakes—" Especially by not succeeding, "But—" she spread out her arms, "Here I am trying to correct them."
"By doing almost exactly the same thing?"
The blasted girl just wouldn't let her be.
"I have sorted out the foolishness of the past."
"Oh, have you?" War snorted, she drew one of her legs to herself on the couch, "Who was the one who said she didn't need any of us—foolishness indeed."
And nobody was talking to you—did she really have to bring that up?
Judgement still didn't let up, "I cannot consider that an answer to my question,"
"I will continue to do whatever it is I have to—" she snapped, "I wouldn't expect you to understand."
She immediately regretted it.
Judgement narrowed her eyes, "And what is that supposed to mean?"
Nothing really—Nature had just been trying to rile her up, not even realising why. And even Judgement too seemed take it a bit more personal than she was known to—
She looked behind her—what was Love even doing, letting War run her energies around like this?
The girl wasn't even looking in her direction.
The room became heavy, like even the air couldn't support itself. The tension became something almost tangible, like they'd be able to reach out and touch it any second from now.
A groan came from the side of the room—Marcus. It seemed the clashing egos and energies had become too much for him, he looked ready to pass out.
"Hey! Whose lightweight is this?" War yelled as she pointed at him.
Nature felt a strand of warmth thread through the atmosphere, dissolving the tension wherever it reached—Finally.
Love waved Marcus over, pulling a seat next to her where her influence would be strongest. It was the safest place for him.
As she patted the boy's back after bending to mutter a few words to him, Nature didn't know if it was on purpose, but she sighed, saying wistfully, "This is why we need Time."
Nature started. Exactly whose side was she on?!
She met her eyes. This girl could be unfair at the worst of times. She could read her implication behind them—Yes, Nature knew it very well— much like her concept, Time could always smooth things over; deescalate tensions, soothe even the most bruised egos and rework clashes with just her presence. Without her, they'd have to wait and let it happen naturally.
But Time wasn't here—so do it naturally they would.
She didn't bother speaking to Love, it was clear she had no more support there.
She turned to face the main instigator of this situation— ready to end this.
"Judgement is younger than us both, so I do not mind the child acting as a child," she said, not minding the way the young woman's face darkened as she did, "But you I would expect a sense of maturity from you."
Even if you are just a musclehead and its practically non-existent.
War yawned, "If there's something you want to say, you'd better come out and just say it."
It was revolting when idiots tried to play vague, she'd dealt with enough pigeons to know not to humour them—
"You will not stop it?"
War leaned back against the couch, "I have no idea what you're talking about." Yet as she spoke, the urges of violence in the room increased in intensity—now, they could almost be touched.
Fine— if that's how she was going to be, Nature was more than willing to play along.
"Besides, if anyone should act their age—" War continued, ready to defend anyone who seemed to be even minimally on her side, "—it's you."
Nature crossed her arms, "Then you should be listening to your elders."
"Hey!" War yelled, "I'm older than you yet!"
"Yes," Nature replied, "But I was actually wanted."
War got to her feet.
Before anything could happen, however, the strands of warmth that had just been hanging about the corners shot to the middle of the room and rose into an invisible barrier between them— then, it exploded outwards and all influences, warring or not, disappeared from the room.
"Alright," Love clapped, "I think that's enough."
The room quieted before she continued, "Let's move upstairs and use the walk to cool ourselves off, okay?"
They heeded her advice, or the closest thing to an order she would give with that personality of hers. Nature, Balance, and Judgement went in front, while Love hung back, steadying Marcus, and staying close to War, likely to prevent her from letting out any more negative vibes.
As they climbed, she heard War gripe while looking around, "Since when have we been reduced to meeting in places like these?"
She turned around just in time to see her scrape the bottom of her boots on the edge of a step—the bottoms were a solid red. Designer shoes? Talk about casting pearls before swine.
Nature scoffed—weren't they the ones who wanted to keep their Leader? The Seven did have a base set aside for them, but probably as a security measure, they were unable to access it until their Leader commissioned it for general use. Everyone would suffer the consequences of poor decisions—
They reached the conference room doors and she put a hand to open them, turning back to War, "If you want to complain about the arrangements, take it up with your Leader," she pushed on them, "Who knows, maybe she'll show up for the next one—"
The reply didn't come from behind her, but from within, "Who exactly didn't show up for the Meeting?" The voice sounded curious.
Nature froze, rooted to the spot. Ice rose up in her chest, her hand trembled—it was all she could do to keep her mouth from dropping open.
No.
The owner was already seated in one of the conference chairs. She had her legs crossed underneath her and looked at them backward with her head upside down.
Nature wished she were dreaming. But she wasn't—The girl brought her head back and rose to her full height, adjusting the cuffs of her jacket, "It couldn't be me you were talking about, right? I'm right here."
Nature couldn't have had a greater nightmare. The others stepped by her to get inside, but she wasn't in the state of mind to move.
How was she here? How did she slip in? When?
"Time," she could barely register Love saying while softly smiling, "You came." The others also greeted her.
And why didn't anything inform her?!
There was a rattle to the side—it was just then she noticed it had become windy outside. Reduced as she was, it still responded to her, including her emotions. Before she could will it to stop, however, it pushed the window open, spilling leaves both green and dry into the room.
Leaves.
A few of them made it to her ears. And her eyes widened even more.
The trees had always been the most loyal to her.
She spun around, and glared at Love behind her, something fierce in her eyes. But it wasn't Love she was interested in—it was the boy walking in step with her.
The little traitor—
"You!" she hissed lowly. He seemed like he couldn't decide whether to hide behind Love's skirt or not, and just held on to her arm.
White hot fury shot through her head. Protection or not, she no longer cared; she just knew one thing—
"You're dead."
Time spoke up from behind her, "You don't get to threaten one of my charges right in front of me."
"No—" Nature rounded up on her, "—you don't get to waltz on in here any time you like and start giving orders. You're just as insolent as he is."
Ignoring the jab, Time kept playing with her sleeves, "Perhaps if you were in a better frame of mind, you would wonder about something—" she stretched, "—neither you nor Love had mentioned anything about where you'd be going upstairs to continue, or rather, officially start the Meeting. And the only time you ever even mentioned it between yourselves was just after Love had picked it out and yet, you met me here…"
She raised an eyebrow and Nature could read the do you understand? in her gaze. She hated the fact that she did—even if she'd made use of her powers, she would have had to be here earlier.
"Add to that the fact that I wasn't seen by any of your birds or creatures," Time continued, "And you'd realise I've been here much, much earlier than any of the others that came today."
Nature bristled at that—so she had known they were watching her.
And that was why she'd shut up the trees—they were the ones she couldn't hide from efficiently, and to make matters worse, she no longer had the power to hear them from afar. It was only because they'd done their best, passing the message across like a city-wide game of Telephone and finally, the wind had allowed them to deliver that one whisper.
Had this brat forgotten that no one messed with her trees?
But Time wasn't done just yet, "Now," she said, "I was listening to everything going on downstairs," her practically colourless eyes met with Nature's and she folded her arms, "I must say—I'm disappointed."
The words bit into Nature's skin, so much that she laughed, "Excuse me?"
Time stared at her sternly, "Then, and even now—losing your composure when things don't go your way. War was right—you shouldn't be the one talking on maturity."
At the side, War silently fist-pumped the air.
Time's sharp eyes went to her, "Don't, War, you're in even bigger trouble—Intentionally disrupting a Meeting has its consequences. Judgement too—" she rounded up, "—there's nothing wrong in stating your opinion, but don't just go along playing into somebody's hands, OK?"
War's hand quickly came down, but rather than even looking mad about it, she grinned, rubbing her hair. Meanwhile Judgement just looked down quietly.
Nature could feel her skin crawl— this was always how it was with Time; she could do or say things that others couldn't even think of getting away with, and hardly anyone would argue with her for it.
If only they could see what Nature did—right down to what her true self was— they wouldn't be able to accept her either.
"I do not—" she growled, "—I do not accept you showing up here and suddenly giving out orders and punishments like you have every right to by just showing up after all these years." She raised her voice in a declaration, "I no longer accept you as Leader."
Time shut her eyes and exhaled. "You may not believe me," she said to her, "But I did not come here so we could speak or argue about this whole thing again. But fine, let's settle this once and for all—" She gave her once last glance before turning around.
"I did not want to do this," she called to the others, "But one of us has given their opinion and I would like to raise it to a vote: how many of you here agree with Nature and refuse to acknowledge me as Leader of the Seven?"
No hands were raised, not even Love…
Figured.
Time hesitated before getting the next words out, swallowing as if it physically pained her, "And how many of you wish for me to continue in active duty as Leader?"
The members of the Seven present voted, even Marcus raised his hand.
Time turned to Nature—truthfully, her smile seemed a little tight, "Unanimous—there you have it." She sighed, "I'm sorry you don't feel the same way, but as you were suggesting—the majority has spoken."
Right—make it seem as if she'd wanted this. But she was right, and when everything was laid out like this, there were only two options—deal with it or leave.
Like she was going to let anyone push her out.
She stepped forward closer to Time, "Alright. I will leave it be for now—" her voice dropped into a frigid whisper, "—but you just make one mistake and so help me—"
She wasn't expecting the girl to cut her off, "Oh please, Nature—" her gaze seemed to have a hint of self-depreciation in it, aside the cold aloofness Nature had come to expect, "—I have more than enough people watching me for mistakes already—including myself."
Nature couldn't understand all what that meant from her eyes, but good, then. She stepped back.
War cheered again, both hands in the air.
Time didn't even turn to look at her, calling over her shoulder, "Don't forget—we still need to pick out your punishment."
After receiving everyone's congratulations, she announced, "Then, shall we finally start this Meeting?"
They took their seats around the conference table in no particular order—only Time had a designated spot at the head. She turned to Love, "Would you do the honours of starting us off? Your pick of the ritual."
Nature remembered that—she and Love had decided to skip that part of the opening to save time. Guess it was okay now.
Love beamed excitedly and stood, "Then I choose this one." She went around to the back and opened one of the file cupboards, bringing out a polished wooden rectangle.
She'd come prepared—seems she'd really wanted to do it.
She unlatched the box and brought out a bow and one arrow made of the same type of wood. She went to one end of the room, notched it and shot, aiming at the now open window—but she didn't want it going out. It trailed a beautiful arch and fell just directly in front of the window, only an inch away from the wall.
Oh, Nature knew this one. There weren't many that none of them didn't.
Nobody felt unsafe or nervous with her handling such weapons—despite her looks, she was an expert marksman, after all.
Then she dropped the bow and went to it, and unlike the king when the prophet Elisha had asked him to do something similar, she held it and struck the ground seven times in a row—one for each member.
They clapped and she returned to her seat after putting back all the items.
Time was about to move the next item on the agenda, when suddenly, the wind picked up again. All of them turned to look at Nature.
She frowned. It wasn't her this time.
The gale blasted into the room, circling around and upwards, powerful enough to almost take some of the chairs with it. She immediately regretted wearing a cloak, after it almost wrangled her neck and lifted her from her chair. When she had it under control enough to look around, she paused.
Though the wind should have been invisible, and in a way, still was—as it circled round, she could make out flashes of herself and the others, in series all the way up to the ceiling—she saw the forests moving on command, stopping of the rush of waters, and them culling the strongholds of monsters—images of their past exploits.
Then, out of the corner of her eye, she caught a piece of white paper flying in through the window, no bigger than a leaflet.
The wind moved, or something must have happened, and the next moment, it was cut up into even smaller sections—seven of them.
The pieces flew on the path of the wind, coming towards their faces. She did what anyone could have done when it looked like a sharp, triangular paper was going straight for your eyes—she reached out and caught it. Later, she learned they all did, all with their dominant hand.
In her palm, the little paper was a searing fire and soothing warmth all at the same time, piercing deep into her bones. A few seconds later, it passed.
That was it—the wind rushed out of another window at the opposite end, leaving the room quiet. The seventh piece gently floated out of it, into the atmosphere.
When she opened her palm, the paper was no longer there.
Only an imprint right in the middle of her hand, glowing brightly.
It didn't hurt at all, her hand only tingled. But as she regarded it carefully, she sat down, there was something else that still tugged on her heart. She was glad, she was grateful but—
This timing as well—did Heaven truly reckon that everything was in its correct place when she didn't get what she wanted?
The others began brushing themselves off. "Man," War said, as she patted her jacket, "Those delivery angels are really always in a rush." Then she brought up her left hand which she'd had clenched at her side and went, "Heck, yeah."
Typical musclehead.
She looked again at her hand—the bright light had faded now, leaving only a white scar.
For her, it was like the impression was taken straight from Genesis—a lush tree, fruit hanging from every bough, surrounded by streams of water—
The Tree of Life, pinnacle of all nature…
And her symbol.
The Seven had been restored.