The Sensitive

by Mary Coffin

“The first thing to know is that everything vibrates with energy. Objects may look solid but they aren’t. That’s why we can manipulate them. But it takes discipline.” Ben tapped his head. “Up here. That’s what these exercises will teach you...discipline.”

  “It’s simple,” smiled Melanie. “First, clear your mind and then focus your thoughts.”

  Earlier, she had stayed in town to keep her shop open longer. It was good she followed that hunch because the Sheriff came back to ask questions. She managed to satisfy his curiosity but knew that it would only be temporary. As soon as she could, she drove to Ben’s house to join the others.

  They stood in Ben’s back yard. Mel and Ben were instructing Fynn and Tibby when Jon came out of the house with his hands full of gear.

  “Here. This is all I could find. Fynn’s might be big but it will do.” Then he set bows and containers, full of arrows, on the ground.

  They were given thick jumpsuits, goggles, and strange caps that fit snuggly on their head, covering their ears and cheeks. The caps were made of thick rubber with small holes all over, to make them less hot.

  They put the gear on over their clothes. Tibby looked at Fynn and laughed. Her small frame was lost inside the jumpsuit.

  “Hey, dufus. You’re not exactly Prince Charming, you know.” She looked down at her jumpsuit and held her arms out to the side. The sleeves dangled beyond her hands. Mel helped roll up the sleeves and pant legs while Jon tied a rope around her waist to hold the suit in place.

  “Why do we have to wear these for shooting arrows?” she asked. “It’s not like we’re going to shoot each other.”

  Jon handed her a bow. “No,” he said, “but you might shoot yourselves.”

  Fynn looked at Tibby and he shrugged. How can I shoot myself? I can’t even point this thing at myself. “Yeah, right,” she mumbled.

  Ben and Jon moved back toward the house to watch. Mel picked up an extra bow and an arrow and faced a target hanging on the side of one of the trees. She explained how to hold the bow and arrow and how to position their bodies.

  “...and then all you do is pull back on the string and...” Swoosh. The arrow swiftly cut through the air and with a soft thud, hit dead center on the target.

  “Now you try, Fynn,” she said.

  Fynn pulled one of the arrows out of the case, held it between her fingers and notched it on the string. She was just about to pull back when she looked down at the tip of the arrow and noticed something odd.

  “I think my arrow is broken,” she said. “The end is flat.”

  “It’s not broken,” said Melanie. “It’s so you don’t get hurt.”

  “But how are we going to...”

  “Just shoot it, Fynn,” said Mel.

  Fynn pulled back with the arrow between her fingers, lined up her sight and let go. She lowered her bow to see where the arrow went but couldn’t see it anywhere.

  “OUCH!” She reached for her butt but couldn’t feel what had hit it so hard. On the ground, behind her feet, was her arrow. She was totally baffled as to how her arrow had switched directions and looped around to hit her from behind.

  Tibby laughed so hard he could barely get the words out. “How...did you...do that?!?”

  Fynn’s face turned crimson. She faced Melanie with her hands clenched by her side. “These are trick arrows, aren’t they? That’s why the end is flat.”

  “No, it’s not a trick. The arrows respond to how focused you are. Your focus drives them to the target more than pulling back on the bow string. If your thoughts are scattered, they let you know,” said Mel. “Relax, Fynn. Clear your mind. Then see the arrow hit the target.”

  Fynn rubbed her butt again and heard Tibby snicker. She gave him a sideways glare. She took another arrow and lined it up with the target. I’ll show him. She let go of the string. The arrow headed toward the target. Beat that, dufus!

  Suddenly the arrow changed directions and turned on her. She quickly ducked and barely avoided a hit in the head. The arrow turned faster yet and slammed into her upper arm before she could react.

  “OWWW!”

  Tibby turned his head away from her so she couldn’t see his snicker.

  Mel said, “Pain will be a great motivator in this case. You’ll catch on quickly just to avoid getting hit. Your disciplined thoughts are critical to getting home safely. Now that the Gädweg has awakened in you both, you can’t just let your thoughts or emotions run wild. Once we cross to our dimension, if anger or fear gets the best of you, for example, it could be our downfall. It will come back at you, like a boomerang. Tibby, you try. Let your focus guide the arrow to the target.”

  Tibby pulled an arrow from his container and held it the way Mel showed them. He tried to clear his mind and did his best to focus and to tell himself that he really wanted his arrow to hit the target. He was concentrating so hard his head started to hurt so he let go.

  He lowered his bow and realized he couldn’t see his arrow anywhere. It didn’t hit the target. He thought about what happened to Fynn so he quickly turned to see if it was coming from behind but it wasn’t there.

  Thud!

  “OW!” he cried. His arrow had come from the side and hit him in the head. Now his head really hurt.

  “Not as easy as it looks, is it?” Fynn gave him a smug face.

  Ben said, “That’s why you have to wear the gear and that’s why the ends of the arrows are flat. Keep practicing and we’ll call you when it’s time for supper. Remember, it has more to do with your focus than it does the mechanics of shooting an arrow.”

  Ben, Jon and Mel headed toward the house.

  ~~~

  Fynn and Tibby were exhausted by the time they were called to supper. At least they were getting a little better, maybe one arrow out of twenty actually headed toward the target – but none ever hit, not even close.

  Once they were told to remove the gear, they expected to see bruises all over their bodies from where the arrows hit. They were sore but fortunately there were no marks. They walked inside and Jon handed them each a cup of liquid.

  Fynn sniffed at it, thinking it was tea. Her face scrunched up and she turned her head away from it. “Ewwww! That’s awful!!”

  Tibby sniffed and had the same reaction. “What is that?”

  “It’s a Wær tonic,” said Jon. “It will help with your soreness.”

  Fynn took a sip and looked like she was about to throw up. “It smells like moldy, mint-covered stinky socks and tastes even worse.”

  “Then hold your nose, if you have to,” said Ben. “You need to drink the whole thing. We must move quickly through your training and this will help to expedite things.”

  Tibby and Fynn looked at each other. They plugged their noses and gulped as fast as possible. Fynn pushed the cup into Jon’s hand, then mockingly opened her mouth and pointed her finger down her throat, like she was gagging.

  In spite of the horrid taste, a warm sensation spread throughout her body. The soreness instantly vanished and she felt rejuvenated. Cool!

  She noticed Mel studying her. “What?”

  “It’s time to do something about that hair.” Mel held out her hand. “Come on. I know where there’s a pair of sharp scissors.”

  Chapter 18

  _______________________

  “One of us has to stay with you at all times,” said Ben. “Not just to keep your training going but to also make sure the Sheriff and his deputies don’t find you.” Then he gazed at Fynn for a moment and smiled at her new haircut. “I didn’t know Mel had it in her.”

  Fynn reached for her head and rubbed her hand down through her hair. It was the shortest she had ever worn it but it felt smooth. She smiled back at Ben.

  Tibby stared at her from across the table. He couldn’t help but notice how her short hair revealed more of her deep, blue eyes which appeared to be more penetrating than before. He quickly looked away before she
caught him staring.

  They sat opposite each other at Ben’s kitchen table and practiced with a retriever ball – a gold colored ball slightly larger than a golf ball. For the most part, it had a smooth surface but specific lines were etched in it. A line divided the ball in half. Then above and below the line were double–ended arrows that went all around the circumference. One end of each arrow pointed toward the line in the middle of the ball and the other pointed to the apex at each end where there was a small circle.

  While they talked with Ben, they played a game to practice their skills. Keeping their hands behind their backs, the objective was to knock the ball off the table onto the other’s lap using energy to push or pull the ball. Ben knew they were ready to move onto something else since they could do it fairly well while holding a conversation. Their training was going well.

  “What makes you think they’ll find us? This place is really hidden,” said Tibby.

  “Well, it’s a funny thing. Wærs have a more refined energy than people in other dimensions. This place, in particular, has a coarse energy, which is why it can sometimes nauseate you.”

  Fynn looked at Ben. “So that explains why it’s hard to be around people sometimes, especially in groups.”

  Tibby took advantage of her diverted attention and pushed the ball over the edge of the table, into her lap. Being that the nature of a retriever ball was to retrieve itself, the ball immediately jumped off her lap and back onto the center of the table.

  Fynn looked sideways at Tibby and raised one eyebrow at his last move. She reached out with her foot underneath the table and lightly kicked him. It caught him by surprise and she managed to dump the ball in his lap. Ben smiled at their interaction.

  “Yes, that’s why it can be hard. But as we mentioned before, there is a counter-force for every force in this world. Other forces come into play to contradict us. So, as we get closer to leaving this dimension, you’ll see that more energy is put into motion to try to stop us. It can’t be helped but my concern is that the authorities might be the ones to play that role this time.”

  All of a sudden, Cnāwan sang out. It was similar to the night she came to Fynn at Happy Days. One moment it sounded mournful and melancholy; the next moment it sounded like the cat was trying to talk in words.

  “Roooowwwrrr. Mmmmummmmrummm. Mowww. Mooowwrr.”

  Fynn whispered, “I guess she’s at it again.”

  “She’ll be doing this off and on until we leave,” replied Ben.

  As soon as Fynn, Tibby and the cat had arrived at Ben’s house, Cnāwan went into a different mode. She quit talking to Fynn with words in her head but Fynn could hear her outwardly, like an ordinary cat. Still, only Tibby and Fynn could see her but now the others could hear her feline expressions.

  “Sometimes it sounds really sad,” said Tibby.

  “It’s not,” replied Ben. “She’s just singing tales about home. She’s been sleeping more to build up her energy and the singing, when she’s awake, helps her remember home. It needs to stay strong in her mind so that she can lead us to the gate.”

  Cnāwan cried a sound that Fynn found humorous. She slapped her hand over her mouth so the cat wouldn’t hear her giggle. She and Tibby had laughed once when the cat sang. Cnāwan stopped abruptly and stared at them. Jon told them that apparently it hurt the cat’s feelings when they laughed so they had to laugh quietly because they didn’t want to discourage it.

  “Okay,” said Ben, “let’s try something different now. I’m sure you’re familiar with the tag game. Instead of tagging the other person with your hand, you’ll tag them with the ball. The person being pursued can use the energy to avoid the ball. This game seems to accelerate skills. The house is free rein, just don’t break anything.”

  Tibby grabbed the retriever ball. “I’ll be it, first.” He stood.

  Fynn immediately noticed the mischievous look in his eyes. She stood, raised her eyebrows and started backing out of the kitchen while keeping her eyes on him and the airborne ball. Then she ran into the living room and up the stairs as fast her legs would move.

  At the top she stopped and looked over the railing to the first floor. There was a narrow opening where she could see that he was following. She crouched down against the wall that led down the hallway and poked her head around the corner to see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. The airborne ball was ahead of him, about a foot in front of his face.

  Fynn waited until he climbed a few steps. Then she concentrated, snuck another look around the corner and gave it all she had. She used the energy to push in the opposite direction in front of the ball. Tibby was so focused that he didn’t see it coming. The ball slammed backwards and hit him between the eyes.

  “Hey,” he hollered. “You’re cagey, Fynn Cage.” He caught it in his hand, after it bounced off his forehead, and soon had it airborne again.

  Fynn burst out laughing and ran down the hall into one of the bedrooms. She slipped behind the door and hugged the wall.

  As Tibby followed, he decided it was better to let the ball go farther ahead of him. That way, if she tried to push back again, he had enough distance and time to react and counter the push.

  Half way down the hall, he could see the shadow of her feet underneath the doorway. An idea came to mind. He let the ball go farther ahead until it went past the doorway to the room where she hid. He stopped and held still for several minutes, and waited. He focused on keeping the ball in the air but motionless.

  Fynn heard a floor board squeak. It sounded like Tibby was nearby but then there was silence. She waited...and waited some more. Still, there was no sound. Finally, she assumed that he had gone in a different direction. She stepped quietly from behind the door and crept to the doorway. She peeked around the door frame to see Tibby standing in the hallway. He simply smiled at her. He enjoyed the momentary look of confusion on her face in the instant right before the ball hit her on the back of the head.

  “Tag, you’re it,” he calmly said. He giggled and then took off running back down the hallway and down the stairs.

  Fynn stood with the ball in her hand. She had to admit, that was a good move on his part. She understood why this game was good for developing skills. It meant that she had to keep all senses alert at all times.

  Chapter 19

  _______________________

  The next morning, Jon came to the house for their training so that Ben could go to work in the bookstore and give the appearance that everything was normal. In the back yard, Jon taught Fynn and Tibby how to gather energy and concentrate it into a ball. Once they mastered that, he planned to show them more creative uses for the balls and how to transform them.

  “What do you call home?” asked Tibby.

  “We call it home,” Jon teased.

  Tibby saw the corners of Jon’s mouth turn up slightly. “Cute,” he said.

  “Its formal name is Elione.”

  “What’s it mean?” asked Fynn.

  “Some believe it means illumination. Some think it’s the name of the person who first found it. I honestly don’t know which is correct. It’s a very big mountain. Sometimes we just call it the mountain,” he explained dryly.

  Cnāwan had been curled up in a sunny spot in the yard while they played with the energy balls. Fynn noticed Cnāwan’s head pop up as soon as they spoke of home. The cat sat up, sang for a few minutes and then watched the others.

  Fynn held the gray ball of matter she had formed and played with it. It was light as a feather, and looked solid from a distance, but up close it pulsated like it was made up of individual tiny particles that danced and vibrated in union with each other. She threw it at a tree trunk, thinking it would bounce back like an actual ball. Instead, when it hit, all the separate particles spread out and dissipated. “Weird.”

  She looked at Jon and wanted to ask something but didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by bringing up a sensitive
topic.

  Jon returned the gaze. “Go ahead. Ask.”

  “How would a flute have gotten you home?”

  “Well, there’s a gate between this dimension and Elione. It’s more like a tear in the time-space continuum. Anyway, once the flute sounded, we had exactly three days - in this dimension’s time - to finish up loose ends and gather everyone together. Once we’re all gathered our vibrations are stronger. It’s like turning on a beacon for the gate to locate us. It would have come to us and opened. We would have stepped through and been home, in one easy step, with very little energy expended.”

  “Interesting,” said Fynn. “So why does the second call take more energy?”

  Tibby listened to the conversation while he tossed an energy ball into the air. He focused to keep it airborne and then let it fall and kicked it. Millions of glistening particles scattered throughout the air. “That is so cool,” he said.

  Jon watched him play. “There’s always a risk with exploring. The greatest risk is that you might not make it back home. If a Wær doesn’t return home with the first call, then it becomes more challenging. You don’t know when or exactly how the second call will come. It might take hundreds of years before it comes. Because you’ve spent so much time away, your energy starts to drain. You forget what home was like. If you aren’t careful, your vibration weakens.”

  “Like our parents?” asked Tibby.

  “Exactly,” replied Jon. “With the second call, we have to find the gate and manually open it; it won’t come to us. It’s kind of like a test to see if we really do want to return home or whether we want to stay in the dimension we visited. If one hasn’t already died here by the time the second call comes, then our remaining energy is used to get to the gate. But it’s important for all of us to be thinking about home in these last few days. It’s not only important for Cnāwan but the more we all think about it and picture it in our minds, the more it will help us be drawn to the gate.”

  Fynn asked, “But if we’ve never been there, how can we think about it?”

  “Mel’s paintings. You saw one that called to you, remember? You felt it in your body.”

  “Yeah,” said Tibby, “that was strange.”

  “I’ll have her bring a couple paintings here to help you picture it.”