The snow was melting in a wide band around the growing fire. Jillian threw more branches on the roaring blaze, then stepped back from the heat. She was still holding on to one stick. She pointed with it.

"Right there, Acsriot," she said to her friend. "Put some there."

Acsriot reached behind her to a pile of cold, blackened stones. He gathered three of them in the crook of his left arm and stepped towards the fire. With an underhanded swing, he aimed for the spot Jillian was pointing to. One by one, each stone hit the mark, landing with a plop in the raging red coals.

"One day, Jill, I want to know how you do that."

Jillian smiled, staring blindly at the roaring fire. She knew what he meant. Acsriot spoke of the fact that she couldn't see. Colors were remembered from long ago, but no longer seen; faces unseeable. But with her feet planted firmly on the ground, the vibrations allowed Jillian to "see". They allowed for shadowed images to spring up, telling her where things were. It was almost as if she saw in black and grey. There was no definition, though, just blurry shadowed images. She could see where a person stood, but not the expression on their face or what they wore.

"When I find out, I will tell you."

"Do you remember anything more?" Acsriot held his side as he sat, grimacing slightly.

"Your side still bothers you?" Blinking, red hair falling into her line of vision as she glanced down at Ascriot.

"I'm healing fine thanks to the priests. You didn't answer my question."

"More stones, Ascriot. Right here." She was pointing with her stick again.

Ascriot shook his head. "The priests have enough stones for the hot house, Jillian. Please answer me."

Long slender fingers tightened around the stick she held, knuckles turning white. While Ascriot was just trying to be nice, she wished people would stop badgering her. Tucking her chin to her chest, Jillian sighed. "No, I don't remember anything more. I continue to have dreams of my childhood. At least, I think it is my childhood."

Green eyes watched the slender young woman as she struggled to keep a tight reign on her emotions. Ascriot ached for her. Ever since arriving to the temple where the priests had brought him to heal, he'd tried to help Jillian remember her past.

She was already a resident of the temple, oblivious to everything but her name. It took him a long while to accept she was capable of functioning on her own. The gentleman in him constantly wanted to help her to and from different buildings in the camp. The priests had found her lying on a beach far to the north and had brought her here to nurse her back to health. That was four months ago.

Acsriot had been there for a little over 3 weeks and spent most of his time with Jillian. "The boy and two girls, again?" When she nodded, he pressed his lips together. She had the same dream over and over. Nothing new. It frustrated Acsriot that she couldn't remember anything recently. He wanted to know why she'd ended up on the beach. His romantic interest in her had him yearning for answers.

Unfortunately, Jillian did not return the interest. There were times when Acsriot thought she might, but he knew she was just being kind. He also wondered if Jillian even wanted to know what had happened to her. When the priests had found her, she'd been naked and badly bruised. Still, some answers would be nice.

When darkness came that night, Jillian found herself looking at Acsriot's body lying prostrate on the ground next to her. He was covered in linens and breathing lightly in his sleep, a sound Jillian focused on as she continued to tend to the stones used in the hot house. The priests were in the middle of an outcry to their god, which involved the rituals of sweating out their flesh and purging their body of anything unclean. The hot stones must be kept fresh and Jillian had been grateful for something to keep her from lying awake in the darkness trying to sleep.

The fire continued to roar before her, the snapping and crackling of the wood an odd lullaby.

"Jillian!" Acsriot's frantic whisper brought Jillian out of what must've been a terrifying dream. Sweat coated her brow, eyes snapping wide open as she stared up at the shape of Acsriot kneeling over her. She must've fallen asleep while tending the fire.

"You were thrashing about, Jillian. I sent someone for help...I didn't know what was going on."

"I h-had....a dream." She sat up, looking around. In her dream, she'd seen a menacing man. The picture she was was only present for a moment, but she vividly remembered the violent way he ripped a pair of wings from her back.

"You're bleeding! My god...Someone! Quickly! Hurry, she's....."

Acsriot's voice faded as her mind filled with the scream she heard from her dream. The picture played over and over in her mind. She'd also been wearing a collar.

She was a slave!

As she swatted gently at the insect, her arm errupted in a chain reaction of tingles and pinpricks. It was a familiar feeling. It meant she had fallen asleep on her arm.

She sat up, rubbing the last of the pinpricks out of her arm, and felt the butterfly take to the air in front of her. A bit woozy, Jillian stood and looked to some stony foothills in the distance that clashed with a dense forest. Beyond the foothills and forest, a dark mountain sprawled left and right. But in the center of the range were two jagged peaks that stabbed up from the cloud tops like black fangs.

She turned in circles, finding Acsriot sitting a few feet away. They were in a clearing surrounded by a variety of unusual trees that had been planted by the priests many, many years ago. Some were short, no more than six feet in height, with dark, flaky bark. Their trunks were narrow, gnarled, and twisted; their branches were bare except for massive paws of leaves at the ends. These strange twisty trees leaned away from the dark mountains.

There were also huge, cone-shaped evergreens. But to call these evergreen wouldn't be quite right. They did have needles, but they most certainly were not green. Acsriot had explained about a month ago that they maintained a dark purple and here and there a hint of navy blue.

But the most striking trees were the tall ones. Jillian didn't know what to call them. The trees' bark—if it could be called bark—was absolutely black. It was smooth and polished, almost reflective, like an eightball. Their trunks rose in columns and were crowned by thickets of broad red leaves. The root of these black trees rose out of the ground and spread in dozens of directions. Hundreds, maybe thousands of scarlet butterflies danced around the the tree trunks, occasionally dropping to light on the tiny multicolored flowers that grew from the trees' roots.

Jillian couldn't see any of the colors and had Acsriot describe them all when she'd first stumbled upon the enchanted garden kept by the Priests, but she stared at the trees now as if she were able to see the variety of color.

Acsriot smiled. "Have a good nap?"

Jillian didn't answer him straight away, but stared up at the trees. The butterflies in the air were not seen, but when they touched the tree itself, they came into view. This caused a sparkling effect as the insects took flight and landed repeatedly. Tearing her gaze away from the spectacle, she nodded to Acsriot. "Yes, I did. Thank-you."

"You were out late again, weren't you, Jillian?" Acsriot leaned forward. "I don't feel right about that guy, Jill."

Jillian's lips pursed as she watched Acsriot's form lean forward as if he were going to lecture her. She turned away. "Brandon is kind to me, Acsriot. A friend. You need not worry for me. I am fine."

She heard him sigh. "Not everyone in this place is nice, Jill."

"He does not look at me like I am broken, a burden."

Acsriot fell silent. He remained that way for quite some time before standing and crossing over to where Jillian stood barefoot in the grass. "I'm leaving." Jillian tipped her head up to look at him and he faultered. "I...the priests say I am ready."

"But you have not been here very long."

"Long enough, Jillian."

"When do you go?" She was sad to lose one of her close friends. Acsriot and Brandon were the only ones she had.

"In a day or so." Acsriot hesitated, reaching for her. Taking her hand in his, he stepped closer. "I want you to come with me, Jillian."

A very sad smile slowly grew on her face. "I cannot, Acsriot." She spoke softly, "you know that. My place is here for now." The skin of her fingers burned as he held her hand, and she gave his hand a squeeze before pulling free from his hold. "We will meet again, Acsriot."

Dropping his gaze to the ground, Acsriot nodded numbly and took a step away. "Maybe it's best for me to leave now.."

"No!" Jillian frowned, reaching to set a hand on his shoulder. "Please do not let what little time we have left together to be ruined by your pride. We can part ways on good terms. Please, for me?"

Acsriot, though obviously wounded, nodded to her. "Yes, I can do that, Jilli'."