"Balance on your right foot only."

"We already did that. Twice," I whine

"And now we're doing it a third. Do it."

I roll my eyes at Branka, the only one of the Ginerva who has been putting me through hours of exercises she calls tests. "Branka, please. We've been at this forever and you didn't let me get out of bed for two hours after I woke up. I'm fine - really."

"And I'm only making sure that you won't fall down the stairs," she reasons.

I want to leap onto her or take her neatly folded arms across her chest and throw them into the air for her.

"If you keep wasting my energy that I could've been using to walk on these pointless tests, then yes, I will fall down the stairs because my legs are tired from doing squats, and balancing tests, and jumping jacks."

"Are your legs tired already? Because if they are-"

"Branka!" She stops her clear attempt to keep stalling and gives me an innocent look. I sigh, forgoing my anger and walking over to her slowly, pulling her arms only to take her hands. "Thank you, for taking care of me, but I'm fine. I can walk, and I can do it without needing to grab onto something."

"She's not wrong, you know," Rohana agrees. "You're hovering."

"I'm not hovering." Not even she looks convinced of her claim.

I mean it though. I appreciate the love and care that she's given me nonstop - I appreciate all ten of them, but I know why they don't let me leave, why they haven't stopped Branka's stalling until now.

My memory still hasn't returned, and aside from a few things from the darkness of my cell, I know nothing of my past nor who was a part of it. These women already told me that they're rather new to my life, so it hasn't been odd befriending them, but everyone outside of these walls knows me one way or another, and I still don't know how I feel about it. All I do know is that I've been slowly dying in this stuffy room while children's laughter rings out from outside, and it makes me even more anxious to leave.

Pushing the thoughts of seeing people out of my head, I smile at Branka and wiggle my eyebrows. "I know you wanna get out of here too."

She sucks on her teeth, trying to hide the smile that's tugging at her lips. It doesn't work, and she ends up shaking her head and letting her hands fall from mine in defeat. I don't give her the chance to change her mind. I snatch Serephina's hand and tug her to the door. Her laugh echoes in my ears, light and airy like the sun shining on a blossomed spring day. It only makes my chest feel less weighed down, and we both break into an eager run.

"No running!" Branka yells, but we both ignore it, Vanya catching up to us. For a moment I think she's going to pull us to a stop, but she just grabs my other hand and pulls us along a little faster.

We skip down the stairs, healers moving aside to avoid our path. Some give us scolding looks, some wide-eyed, and others with wider smiles. We all nearly run into Siscilla who I've come to admire when we reach the ground floor. I yell an apology over my shoulder, and she yells something along the lines of, "Not a single scratch on that clean skin of yours!"

I laugh at her words, but they do more damage than anything. My skin's clean of all any scars I may have gotten from what the women have told me, but sometimes I can still feel them lingering, burning beneath my skin begging to be let out - to be seen. Sometimes my body aches from soreness I don't remember having a reason to gain, other times it's sudden sharp pain in my legs or fingers.

They may have saved me from whatever hell I was put in, but it still lingers, and not just in my body.

My head's gotten worse, though there's no physical pain to describe to Branka so she can relieve it. You can't relieve the pain of your own making, the sickness of your own dark thoughts. I still don't feel emotions like I see others express them. My smiles are faked and practiced on my lips in the night when Branka or whoever is watching me falls asleep. I've shed no tears, felt no fear, haven't gotten close to anger, and happiness is something my sweaty hands can't seem to grip aside from moments like this when it's freedom that has me feeling something in the empty chest of mine.

I imagine what happiness would feel like as we leave the Healer's Tower and start down a hall. I imagine that it feels like the chill snaking up my legs from the winter season, tingling my body to remind me of the warmth within. I imagine that it's the billow of my half tied up hair, feeling wild and careless of where it leads. I imagine it feels like the fervor that runs through both Inna and Vanya's hands and into me, though it only lasts up to my elbows before it disperses. And I imagine it feels like this sudden glow that shines in my chest as we keep running.

I may not be able to feel happiness, but that sure as hell isn't going to stop me from trying.

Branka and the others appear halfway down the hall. I look around for a quick alternative route, but instead, I find windows to my left, giving me glimpses of the sparkling snow and the children playing in it. I let Vanya and Inna slow me to a stop as we reach the others, but my eyes still gaze out the nearest window. Something's...pulling me towards it. I can't explain it, but it's like a voice calling my name outside.

"Let's go outside."

"Not dressed like that."

I stop my walk for the wooden door and look down at my clothes. I'm wearing black trousers, tucked into the thick boots Mak likely stole from somewhere in the castle to keep my feet warm. The tunic is a bit thin, but it hasn't bothered me yet.

I look at Branka, her arms already crossed again in that motherly defiance. "Then, by all means, Branka, go find me a coat," I sass, my patience waning.

She glares at me, but then she mists out, we wait for about two seconds, and then she returns, a long black coat with gray and white fur lining in her outstretched hand. I take it with a smile and quickly slip it on. Mak opens the door and the winter wind hits all of us at the same time. The bite of the cold makes me suddenly grateful that Branka's such a fussy friend.

I pull the coat tighter around me and hop two-footed into the soft ice of the top step. My feet sink until most of my calves are beneath the surface. I reach down and grab a big clump of it, savoring the instant slight pain of its frosty chill. I turn to ask one of them a question, but then my hand gets a shock of pain, one stronger than the others I've gotten, and it runs all up my arm, to the side of my neck, and ends in my head. I flinch from it, the snow in my hand dropping back down to the ground.

Branka and Rohana are instantly in front of me, both inspecting my face and then my hand that held the snow.

"What happened?" Rohana demands coldly.

"Nothing - I just - I don't know. One second I was picking up the snow, and the next, pain shot up my arm."

They both let out a relieved sigh, but I'm not so easily relaxed. The sting hurt like a bitch, and it left this tingling feeling in my arm as if it had fallen asleep. I shake it, hoping it'll do the trick to get rid of the invisible ants. It doesn't work and I give up, dropping my arm back down to my side with a frustrated grunt. More pain shoots up again at the movement, and as I flinch again, a large clump of snow plops down beside us, scaring us all.

"What the hell is going on?" I ask, partially sure that they're trying to punk me.

"An explanation for later," Rohana says with a sigh. "For now...Inna, if you would?"

I turn to Serephina, eyeing her as she lays her hand on my shoulder. "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt." I open my mouth to ask, but then her eyes start to glow silver and the words die on my tongue. The tingling in my arm disappears, as well as that glow in my chest, leaving me barren and trying to yank it back into myself. Nothing happens, and Serephina's eyes return back to normal.

I remember Branka explaining why their eyes change color and what it means, but Serephina has power absorption, so why would she need to use it on me?

I don't get a chance to start answering my own question, as something small yet strong hits my legs and I have to grab Inna's arm to keep myself from stumbling and falling at the impact. I look down and find a brown-haired young girl looking up at me with her arms wrapped tightly around my leg. She smiles and laughs, and soon a boy slightly older than she latches onto my other leg, happily smiling too. The resemblance between the two is clear, and I place them as brother and sister.

"Clare Bear!" The boy yells, still gazing up at me.

"Cla-ber," the little girl echoes, roughly repeating her brother's words. I offer them a tight smile, but I don't recognize them.

They both laugh again, and I feel as something different takes hold of my chest. Unlike the glow of whatever was there before, this feels like a burning desire. A desire to protect, to keep them as close to me as possible. I have no idea why, nor do their faces or voices bring up anything, but sometimes your body knows you better than you know yourself. If it's telling me that I know them, one way or another, then I know them, and I can't necessarily watch them be happy and not smile myself.

"Hello," I say cautiously, still unsure of how to proceed with them.

I expected to have an encounter with people my age or older but to come across children who were a part of the days I don't remember, that's a different kind of realization. A painful one.

How could I forget children? I haven't been near a mirror yet, so I can't necessarily eliminate the possibility of them being family of mine, but a glance at the others tells me that possibility is unlikely. Still, they're children, children whom don't know nor could properly understand who it is I am now. They're looking for the person they knew, they're literally latching onto her, but I'm not her, and I may never be again.

The knowledge has my chest heaving, and my knees beginning to feel weak and prone to giving out. I'm not the same person I was, even if I can't necessarily remember who I was, it's a fact I know to be deep within my heart, and I've been ignoring it because I hadn't wanted to believe it was there. I wanted to believe that getting my memories back would make this feeling go away, but until that happens, I'm stuck with it, and even if I do regain my head, I don't think this scar is fading anytime in the near future.

Needing some kind of distraction, I kneel in the snow, ignoring how easily the cold of the ice seeps through my trousers. The two children quickly move their grips from my legs to my neck, and I end up getting off balance and falling backward onto the step behind me. My butt is now likely to soon be soaked, but I don't mind it, not as the boy starts speaking about how much he missed me, and how much his sister, Mira, had missed me as well. He's no older than eight at my guess, her likely five or a year younger.

"Kat said you were sick," the boy says, pulling back just enough to look closely at my face. "You don't look sick."

"I don't?" I ask surprised. As much as Branka says nothing, I'm not stupid. She looks at my cheeks and beneath my eyes several times a day, which always makes me think that I look rather ghostly.

"No, but you could use some mint."

I glance at his sister, hopelessly thinking that the younger girl would elaborate, but of course, she's thoroughly distracted with touching my hair. "For what?"

"Your breath. It smells like fish."

"I-" I'm too shocked and slightly embarrassed to glare at Mak's snort and Nilsa's proud smirk.

"Wouf! Wouf!" Mira chants, thrusting her fists into the air and jumping with each chant. I stare at her in confusion.

"She wants to see the wolf," her brother explains. "Kat told us stories about the water wolves, and she's obsessed."

Kat. He's said the name twice now, which means they're likely someone from my past, seeing as he's connected to her and I to him. I don't let myself dwell on the thought too long, and whisper Víđarr's name in my head. He's told me a few things throughout the days, one of them being that if I ever needed him or another wolf, I'd simply have to clearly think his or another name in my head, and they'd be there a moment later. I thought it was an outlandish idea, so I asked for another wolf's name and then thought of the name as clearly as I could. When I opened my eyes, a violet-eyed wolf sat at the side of my bed.

Now I say Víđarr's name, and with a smile to the boy, I look past him and Dee who stands behind him, and watch as my once pup of a wolf comes around the corner, now bigger than when I remembered first meeting him. His gold eyes find mine, and his tail wags as his water stays calm. Kathika and Tsil quickly move out of Mira's way when she spots him, her arms already spread open as she races for him. He lays down as she gets closer, taking her embrace around his neck gladly. Her arms don't even reach halfway around his neck, but she doesn't seem to mind much.

Her brother follows after, though he's more interested in comparing the size of his hand with that of Víđarr's paw and then lifting up his lip to see the long teeth beneath. I laugh when Víđarr starts opening and closing his mouth after the boy and his sister move to climb on his back, trying to get his lip unstuck from getting caught in his teeth.

A few other kids appear around the corner, and they all scream when they see Víđarr, but at the boy's enthusiastic encouragement, they slowly approach and eventually start using Víđarr as a playground.

I call another name in my head, the name of the violet-eyed wolf I briefly met. She appears over my shoulder this time, and I give her a small pet before letting her join her alpha. She walks slowly so as not to scare them. I notice that her paws don't sink into the snow, and there are no footprints in her wake. I squint at her feet, trying to find the reason for it, but I come up empty. Another thought for later.

The two wolves are eventually overrun by the seven children who play with them, women who could only be their mothers watching keenly from a few feet away. There are two others standing by the wall opposite of them, both dressed in dark clothes and a cloak with a beautiful shade of blue on the inside. One's a man, another a woman, and they're staring at me rather than the children, their hoods down to reveal their shocking expressions. They're staring at me as if I'm a ghost too, entirely ignoring the women around me. I shift uncomfortably beneath their gazes and turn back to watch as Kallisté lays on her back, exposing her belly to the older kids. They scratch her chest, a younger one hoisting himself onto her neck and laying on it on his stomach. One of the women calls his name, Eric, a panicked look on her face at his closeness to the wolf's mouth.

Still feeling the gazes of the two cloaked figures, I stand from the step and walk toward the four mothers, dusting the snow off of my butt as I go. The Ginerva follow, but I wave them off once I get closer to them. As much as they may not want to admit it, they're all dressed like assassins, and they're not necessarily hiding the number of weapons they have on them. I'm weapon-free, and I don't need them worrying about the women behind me reaching for their blades.

"They won't harm your children," I say, stopping at what I hope is a respectful distance away from them. They all give me worried and suspicious looks, sizing me up. I make sure to keep my hands where they can see them, that way they don't think me prone to causing them harm. "The wolves are forbidden to harm any innocent soul. They were made to protect the innocent, and they'd die before their teeth could sink into a pure being's skin."

They still don't answer, but the tallest one of them steps forward, her eyes going from questioning to realization. "I know you. You're...you're the one from the Ball, the one who saved all of us. The wolves are your creations."

The other women's eyes widen at her words and my stomach sinks down to my feet. I smile on instinct, deflecting having to tell them that I have no idea what they're referring to. I don't remember a Ball, don't remember saving them, or creating Víđarr or the others. I pray to the Gods and their Saints that they don't ask questions. I won't be able to answer, and their suspicion of my wrong ones would only make them more uncertain about not only me but others in the castle. I'm already fucked up as is, I don't want to fuck up anyone or anything else.

"By the Gods," the mother closest to me breathes. "But that would mean that you're the....you're..."

"Heathens we didn't recognize you without..." The third mother glances at the two cloaked figures still standing by the opposite wall, and I follow her gaze, now confused as to what they have to do with this.

And what does having been the one to save them mean for who I am? Why wouldn't they recognize me? What is it I'm missing that would clearly give away who I am? And who am I?

There's a tap on my shoulder and I turn to see who it is, only my head doesn't move to do so. I try to turn my neck, but it doesn't budge, and I realize why. It's Tanith, telling me to walk back over to them. I want to stay, to ask them questions that no one else will give me the answers to. I want to see through their eyes, into their memories, about what it is I did and who I am. There's another tap on my shoulder, but this one is harder, more like a stern poke.

I turn back to the women, glad to find my head capable of moving again. "Uh...I have to go, but the wolves will stay here until you ask them to leave." Awkwardly, I back away from them, glancing once at Víđarr and Kallisté. They both find my eyes with their own bright ones and then bow their heads to me in unison. The action has me tangling my fingers together, my thumb rubbing against my palm as if tracing an invisible line. All it touches is smooth skin, and for some reason, it bothers me that it's so sleek.

I don't mind leaving the snow and returning to the warmer halls, as I have somewhere else I've been wanting to go. Branka doesn't know of my wishes, and I haven't told her because I know that she'll lock me back in my room. I need to do this because all the memories I have have one thing in common, and it's the only thing in them that makes sense. It's the only thing that gives me even the slightest feeling of hope, and I'll order her or any one of them to go sit in the snow and not move until I get back if I have to. This is the only thing I have to hold onto right now, and I'm not going to let it slip through my fingers.

"Clarice!" I look up at the sound of my name, the only name I seem to have stocked in my hollow head. I don't even know the name of the girl running towards me, don't recognize her nor know why she's so quick to reach me. A man dressed in the same dark clothing and cloak as the other two from outside follows her, though his steps falter and halt when I look at him.

What is it with people and being surprised that I'm here? I'm currently only partially certain that I'm not a ghost.

The girl stops in front of me, a polite smile on her face and a book clutched to her chest. The gesture, for some reason, feels familiar. "You look ten times better than you did a cycle ago."

"What?"

She ignores my surprise and scans my whole body with critical eyes. "Though I would recommend eating a bit more, you're still rather skinny for your normal body fill."

"I-" She saw me a cycle ago? I look to