Raven's Watch ains

This was not the first time Edith had been out in the wilderness; far from it, she had been taken a few times to hike trails and perform some duties among the pines as she'd grown, although these did not have dedicated gravel pathways or pavement, and there was no sign of her handlers. It was the way she wanted it — even as she hesitated beneath the creeping palms of branchwork. This was what she'd been seeking. She knew this about herself, even as doubt threatened to cloud her mental vision.

The trepidation was something she had to accept. Nothing in life worth having was easy to obtain. Edith knew her path diverged from that of her forebears, and she had begun to accept that; she also must accept the thought that the might be heartbroken over her choice, and that — along with the flouting of certain familial laws — was a harder sell.

The feeling only intensified when the sound of something bestial, yet familiar, rose through the trees. It was like the calling of children to their mother; it was the danger-call of a police siren to the waiting handlers; it was intimate, and intimidating, and had Edith frozen in place until the quiet came again.

Edith had never been a loud creature, and that had forever been a boon to her handlers. While other recruits might have squealed as they fought their duty, or been lulled in to the impulse of crying alongside the sirens as they passed, that was not Edith. In this instance too, she felt more outside-herself than anything; so no, she would not call back. She would stand as if on-guard within the dark, unsure if she should move forward or find shelter and be hidden.

The only thing she was certain of in any moment, was that she could not go back.