"Thanks, Harp," Beth laid back in her bed, "I don't think I've been sleeping the best lately; might be time for a new mattress."
"Yeah, it could be the mattress—or—and hear me out, it could have something to do with that amulet around your neck." Harper sat down on the rickety chair near an old stack of wooden crates.
"The amulet?" Beth was initially going to dispute the claim but stopped when she realized that she was currently clutching it.
"Yep. You've been fiddling with it a lot lately. I mean, you always fiddle with it—but the past few days, you really kicked it up a notch."
"Uh oh," Beth chuckled nervously, "We got the jewelry patrol here."
"Ha-ha," Harper replied sarcastically. "Come on, Beth, something's bothering you, and we both know it."
Beth stared at the ceiling and rolled the pendant around between her fingers. She let out a heavy sigh, "I can still remember when awareness first came to me. It was a rush of noticeable instinct and distant yet familiar hope. I felt like I had to walk and find it; otherwise, the fire beside me wasted its purpose. The light can show you the way, even if you depart it, but at least it means you're moving forward."
"That's some cryptic stuff there, babe," Harper was slightly taken aback by the bizarre outpour of words.
"Oh, sorry," Beth chuckled, "Let's just chalk that up to sleep deprivation too."
"Hold on now—I still think we should talk about whatever it is that's keeping you up at night."
"You really want to open this can of worms right now?" Beth asked, half surprised.
"Of course! Why wouldn't I? You listen to all of us all the time, and believe me—I know that isn't easy. One time, while you were out on a supply run, Arvid came to me for dating advice, and it was the most awkward situation I ever found myself in."
"Arvid came to you for dating advice? I didn't know he was dating," Beth was mildly shocked but proud at the same time.
"Well, that's just the thing—he wasn't actually dating anyone. He was asking me for advice on how to get a date."
"Oh. But still, good for him."
"Yeah, sure, but that wasn't even the part that made it weird. I stumbled through the conversation for an uncomfortably long time, and when I stopped talking, what do you think he asked me?"
Beth thought for a moment. "Knowing Arvid, he probably threw his hands in the air and complained about how nothing made any sense. Maybe some curse words about women, us in particular, and then something about how he shouldn't have even asked in the first place."
"Yeah, that was kind of what I was expecting, too, but that wasn't the question that he proposed. Instead—he looked me right in the eyes and asked if I would go on a date with him."
Beth looked stunned, but deep down, she wanted to laugh. Not at the fact that Harper, a very tall woman, and Arvid, a relatively short man, would look comical together, but more at how their personalities were complete polar opposites. "They do say opposites attract," Beth jested.
"Don't even start," Harper playfully threatened. "'They' don't know what 'they' are talking about."
"Aw, come on! You guys would be c—cute together," Beth was trying not to laugh. Again, not at the expense of Arvid, but how the sheer thought of dating him really appeared to offend her best friend.
"First of all, I barely consider Arvid a friend; he's more of a co-worker at best. And secondly, he couldn't be further from my type."
"Your type? I didn't know Harper had a type. In all the years I've known you—I never so much as seen you hold hands with someone."
"I have a type!" Harper shouted before adjusting her tone to a whisper, "And I have my eye on someone too, so..."
"Anyone I know?" Beth asked playfully.
Harper's skin turned to a light shade of pink, like a freshly molted crab. "Hey, this isn't about my potential love life—we were talking about what's been keeping you up at night. Let's save my romantic woes for another intervention, shall we?"
Beth's eyes widened, "Seems like I hit a nerve."
"No, it's just that I prefer to keep my personal life personal—and I don't mean to be rude; it's just that I don't even know what to make of my feelings sometimes. I'd at least like to have a handle on the chaos spiraling through my head before we attempt to discuss it."
"That's why you talk to people you trust, like me," Beth suggested. "But if you're not ready, I won't force you. Just know that I'm here when you need someone."
Harper smiled. "I appreciate that. "So, the amulet?"
It was true; Beth does indeed fiddle with it a lot. She recounted her oldest memory with a light smile and a slight exhalation of breath. "I would assume I wasn't born into this world, at least not in the same way others are."
"What do you remember from your childhood?" Harper asked.
"Nothing," Beth scoffed, almost disgusted with herself. "One day, I was just there, sheltered from the rain by a campfire in a cave. I was alone with a pot of soup and fresh clothes. And around my neck was this strange amulet. For days, it glowed bright, but as time went on, it grew dim."
"And that's it?"
"Yup."
"I know you vaguely went over this a time or two before, but that is literally all you remember?"
"Unfortunately, yes."
Harper scoffed, "I can see why this keeps you up at night. If my first memory were waking up in a cave with a glowing amulet, I'd have some questions, too."
"Exactly! I do have questions, and that's why I want to leave. Well, not leave for good per se, but something tells me the answers I seek could take a lifetime to learn. Besides, I don't want to tell everyone that I'll be gone for a few weeks, months, or years because, frankly, I don't know how long it will take. But the truth is, I'm not getting any younger, and there are things about myself I'd like to know before I leave this rock."
"So, you're retiring then? For realsies this time?" Harper asked.
Beth nodded with half a smile plastered on her face, "Pretty much."
"By yourself?"
"Yep."
Harper locked eyes with her best friend. A brief staring contest pursued until she finally broke the silence. "Don't take this wrong way, but that could be the dumbest thing I have ever heard. You spend your whole life, at least the bits you remember, building this café and all these relationships with people who virtually owe everything they have to you—yet you're going to leave us all behind to go search for answers that may not even exist?"
The animosity in Harper's response caught Beth off guard. "Thanks for the support, pal. I surely can't ask anyone to uproot their lives to go with me. What kind of person would do that?"
"A person with friends, that's who!"
"Harper, I'm sorry—but this isn't a decision you get to make for me. I appreciate your openness, but I need to do this for my own sanity."
The truth was, Harper had grown increasingly fond of Beth but didn't have the heart to tell her just how much she meant to her. Perhaps she was overreacting a bit. She did just agree that if she had Beth's memories, she wouldn't be able to sleep at night either. "You're right, I'm sorry. It's just—"
"No apologies needed. I totally understand. But this is something that I've given a lot of thought to. As a matter of fact, it's honestly one of the first thoughts I had back in that cave."
As Beth continued relaying her story to Harper, neither of them was aware that Justice sat perched outside, just above the bedroom window—listening to everything. While Beth's oldest and most trusted friend was growing a little more comfortable with their fearless leader's departure, Justice, on the other hand, was not. Wanting nothing more than a family for her entire life; the one she had was now on the verge of fracturing. Justice was an orphan—people always had adult conversations around her. She knows that people who go looking for answers like this generally never find them, which means they never return home.
Hearing more than enough to upset her, Justice repelled down the side of the café and began a mad dash for the lake out back, where she could yell at the water and release her emotions. Beth and Harper were like the parents she never had. She loved them both. Pax was kind of gross at times, but it didn't bother Justice at all one bit. Arvid could be rude too, but even on his worst day, he was leagues away from the sadistic Headmistress Vera. Meat, the new guy, was quiet but always nice. Families weren't perfect, she knew that, and hers was far from it—but they were perfect to her.
The night was dark, and the moon was doing a poor job of illuminating the great outdoors. With tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, seeing where she was going was becoming increasingly more difficult for Justice as she barreled down the path toward the lake. She wiped her face with her sleeve, but the moment she lowered her arm, she ran into something solid, sending her crashing to the ground.
"Whoa, easy now!" Arvid dropped the pen and papers he was holding. He was on his way into the café, writing all the repairs he had to take care of that week. "Where's the fire, kid?"
"Leave me alone!" Justice yelled, slapping his hand away when he offered to help her up. Just as soon as the collision happened, the young Justice was back on her feet and back on course for her destination.
"Hey, kid!" Arvid bellowed, "Kid! You alright?"
Both Beth and Harper heard Arvid's naturally loud voice come booming through the window. Quickly, the duo goes to investigate. By the time they made it outside, the stout man had just finished cleaning up the spilled papers and was heading toward the café entrance. "Careful! I'm walkin' here!" Arvid yelled, concerned that the two women running toward him may plow into him as well.
"What's going on? Are you alright?" Beth asked.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's gonna take more than an orphan cannonball to stop me. The kid, on the other hand, something has her all pissy," he gestured toward the lake. "She went that way."
"Kid?" Harper reared back, "Justice?"
"Well, it's certainly not Pax or Meat, now is it? Of course, I meant Justice. Now, if you ask me, around these parts, when a little girl is crying, that's a big girl problem. You two are big girls; now go figure out what the problem is. Besides, I have crap to do."
Without hesitating, Beth and Harper sprinted past Arvid.
"Hey!" Arvid yelled out, "If you need me, I'll be in the dining room!" He had a tough exterior, but it was just how he was. Despite sounding like he didn't care—if anyone were ever to hurt the few people he called friends, there was no limit to what he would do to save them or exact revenge. However, after residing with members of the opposite sex for an extended period, he became keenly aware of the intricate nature of "girl problems." Despite his efforts, he realized that his words or actions were seldom of much assistance and did little to improve his understanding of the fairer sex.
When Beth and Harper made it to the lake, they saw Justice sitting on a boulder just on the other side. The moonlight seemed to beam directly at her as if some greater power was lighting the way. "What do you think is wrong?" Harper asked.
"If I had to guess, I'd say she overheard us talking," Beth looked up at her best friend. "Maybe I should handle this one?"
The tall blonde Harper looked down at Beth, who was still fiddling with the amulet. "Yeah, alright. I'll be back at the café if you need me."
Justice had her head buried in her knees as she bawled. When Beth approached her, she gently placed her hand on the upset youth's shoulder. "How are you holding up, kiddo?" Beth asked quietly.
"You're just gonna' leave?" Justice swatted Beth's hand away. "You don't even know what you're looking for! Think about the rest of us! What if you're out searching forever, or maybe something worse happens, and you die? None of us will ever know! We'd just go on living—wondering what the hell happened to Beth for the rest of our lives!"
"Justice, sweetie, I—"
Before Beth could articulate a response, the young girl quickly curled up into a defensive ball as if expecting punishment. "I'm sorry," she whimpered.
"What? No—don't apologize," Beth again placed her hand on Justice's shoulder. "Just think of this like one of my usual trips—just longer. But don't you worry, I'll return home like I always do."
"Promise?" Justice said through sniffling.
"Of course," Beth fired back, "I promise I'll return home."
"But you always say you're retiring! Retiring is something you do when you can no longer do the job, right? That's how you explained it to me before!"
"Well, yes. I guess essentially that's—"
"Why retire if you're coming back? You know, Headmistress Vera was meaner than a wolverine in a knapsack, but she never lied!"
"Justice, I'm not lying. I will come back; this is home, after all—my friends and everything I ever worked for are here. Even the whole Tuthic business, but that's another story."
"Too thick, business?" Justice repeated, wiping her sleeve across her face.
"Tuthic—Tuthic Brand Fabrics, a clothing company I co-founded with someone I considered a close friend at the time, Yayra "Bisk" Tuthane," Beth explained.
"You never talked about that before," Justice sniffled.
"We made some really nice clothes, but my pride and joy was the durable tunics. Additionally, it's where I got my leotard turtle-neck style from."
"And the scarf, too?" Justice asked.
Beth remembers her scarf, which is deemed a good luck charm. "Nah. This is from another old friend of mine. It's a sign of trust from a royal faction, but that's a whole other story—plus, I don't want to bore you with the details."
"You never bore me. I know I don't speak much, but I love listening to everyone's stories. At the risk of sounding pathetic, sometimes it's the highlight of my day hearing all the adventures everyone's lived out, even Pax."
"In that case, I'll be sure to tell you whatever you want to know as soon as I get back from my trip. Besides, I'm sure you'll have plenty of adventures of your own as you get older."
"You'll really come back?"
"Absolutely. It's hard to leave my pride and joy, my family."
"Then why say retire?"
"Because I need to know things will be okay when I'm not here. For that to happen, someone else has to be in charge. Harper, is that someone else."
"I like Harper. I think she's a good choice—only until you get back, though, right?"
Beth laughed, "Maybe. If she does good, I don't see any reason why I can't kick back here in Crest Town and enjoy my retirement."
Justice didn't like that answer, but she wanted the conversation to end so she could process everything that was said. She knew she had no right to demand that Beth stay, but if anything, her time with the White Moon crew told her there's never a wrong time to voice your opinion—even if she still felt like she'd be beaten for doing so. "Can we go back inside? It's getting a little chilly out."
"Sure."
It wasn't that chilly, but she could read a situation better than most. "You know, being an orphan is a pretty wild adventure in its own right. Headmistress Vera sounds like a real villain—I've seen my fair share of villains out there, but you know what?"
"What?"
"A lot of them want power or treasure—some even say money is the root of all evil, so it's not a stretch to consider how being a wealthy person of power could drive someone to do villainous things. But in the case of Headmistress Vera, she's a different type of evil. One that even I haven't crossed paths with on too many occasions."
Justice was intrigued, "How so?"
"The villain in your story likes making people suffer, children no less. She enjoys the pain and anguish of others despite it not making her any more powerful or wealthier. She dreams about torturing the innocent and wakes up to carry out those dreams. That's someone with a truly evil heart right there."
Justice thought for a moment. "Do you think I should vanquish her?"
"What!?" Beth perked up. "I mean—I'm sure karma will pay her back in spades if it hasn't already, but I—I uh—I don't think you personally should put yourself in that situation."
"Why not? You don't think I can do it?" Justice asked
"Oh, it's not that, not that at all, actually. For some people, doing it is the easy part—living with it, on the other hand, is where the weight of the challenge is. But listen, this has been a long day, and the lesson hidden here is going to take more time, more words, and a well-rested Beth to explain."
"I understand," Justice's cheeks were dry, but her eyes were still glassy. "So, if you think about it, you're kind of an orphan, too."
"True. I never had parental figures in my life. For the first year or so, I traveled alone."
"If you didn't have parents or a headmistress, how'd you end up with your name?"
"That's actually a really short story. I stumbled across a vacant cabin during a blizzard. It was abandoned, but it had plenty of food, old clothes, books, and a bunch of other stuff. I made a nice little fire, fixed up something to eat, and once I got warm and filled my belly, I looked for a place to nap. There was a single note in one of the rooms, and it was made out to 'my lovely, Beth.' I realized I didn't have a name at that moment, so I took that one. After two days of riding out the blizzard, I stocked up and went on my way."
As they entered the café, all the staff were waiting for them. Beth noticed them looking out the window as they walked up, but the moment they entered, everyone but Harper made it a point to look busy. Even Meat, who was hunched over in the corner gnawing on some leftover, near rancid, hunk of boar. Beth rolled her eyes, imagining that he was standing next to the outgoing trash as they approached, and the first thing he thought of was to reach in and grab something in a bid not to look suspicious.
"One more question," Justice asked quietly, signaling for Beth to come closer.
"What's that?"
"Can I get a tattoo like yours before you go?" Justice asked, referencing the one on the left of Beth's abdomen.
It was concealed most of the time, but Justice had seen it before when they all went swimming in the lake. She also had a nasty scar on the right that occurred during a disgusting mental breakdown. Harper witnessed the whole thing, which scared her shitless. She watched in horror as Beth mutilated herself during the manic episode. But later, when Beth healed after resting in a comatose state from the incident, Harper suggested she get a heart tattoo as a sign of self-respect and recovery.
Realizing what the ink meant to her personally, Beth couldn't help but agree. "Absolutely."