Sorry if there are any mistakes. Also, ignore the tackiness of the names...If you comment on this I'll love you forever (▰˘◡˘▰) 

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Xiumin suffered in silent agony as the company trudged on. He was wearing nothing but his thin night silks, and his thighs chaffed painfully on the rough saddle. He went through their inventory in his head another time. 

One Pyro. One Frost. Two Lifters. Two Mizukos, who controlled water. One Visionary. Another Shifter. Two young Jumpers, who still smelled of wooden practice swords. And whatever weapons they carried. There was no indication that they had any food, and in their current wallowing state, it would be another day until they reached the cabin. They would be safer if they traveled rested, Xiumin decided, and he called the troop to a halt. 

"Tie up the horses," he ordered, mimicking the regal voice of his father, "We sleep here tonight."

There were no objections. There were also no tents or blankets, and the eleven huddled closely on the damp forest floor as the Pyro lit some wood, making more of a show than necessary. 

"Oh bless you fire king!" a Jumper mocked, standing and bowing deeply. The others laughed, timidly at first, but then filled the dead of night with their noise. Even Xiumin, who was mourning the most, felt his lips pull back into a smile. The callow boy was dancing around the flames and Xiumin tried to remember what it was like without burden. But he had always been carrying some sort of weight, and he envied the Jumper who was then sitting to his right and breathing heavily. 

"You shouldn't be so loud," said a Mizuko as she cooly sipped from her cupped palms. She was the only female in the group, and even though her element was water, the look in her eyes reflected the fire. 

"She's right," Xiumin said, not bothering to learn her name, because he had learned to accept that any guards of his were, ultimately, disposable. "You. Keep the first watch." 

As some began to strip of their cloaks, using them as makeshift sheets, Xiumin excused himself. The obnoxious Jumper immediately followed. 

"I'd like to be alone," Xiumin told him. The boy was not deterred. 

"I'm Chen," he said. Xiumin wished he hadn't said that, because whenever he looked at him, he would always think, Chen. He fought the urge to shove the kid onto the ground. 

"Leave me be." Xiumin was walking faster, with no destination in mind other than away. The light from the fire behind them dimmed and the company's chatter quieted. "Please, go lay down."

"You need to sleep more than me anyways. And even if I wanted to leave you, I can't, because this is my job."

Xiumin was too tired to argue. "Just shut up then" was all he could muster. He sat at the base of a large tree and hung his head. 

"I'm sorry about your mother." Chen had been the first to address the matter. Uncomfortable stillness followed. Xiumin didn't want to hear any more about Chen, because information meant attatchment. Attatchment meant vulnerability. 

"I am going to sit here, and you are going to sit there. You will not talk to me, you will not touch me, understand?"

Chen obeyed. 

Xiumin let his heavy eyelids close, unable to feel the distant warmth of the fire. What would happen when they reached the cabin? Would he then be left to fend for himself? What would his father do? Who was that man in front of his parents' room? Everything was happening very quickly and suddenly there was a burst of light that flew passed his face, and he scrambled to his feet. The volume of a fight erupted, animals were dashing past him, and everything seemed ablaze. Before he could concern himself with the idea that things could fall apart in an instant, he woke up Chen who instinctively tried to run towards the battle. 

"No!" Xiumin yelled over the sound of thunderstorms, "We have to go. Now."

Chen's eyes widened; Xiumin had forgotten that he was just a fledgling. He pitied him, and fought the feeling of sympathy. The temperature was unbearably high as the fire threatened to swallow them up.

"I'm not strong enough!" Chen cried. 

Xiumin grabbed his arm. "You'd better try."

Chen breathed in deeply, inhaling only smoke, and they both felt weightless for a second. They were only feet from where they stood before. The flames laughed. 

"Again!" Xiumin yelled, as a lit bush behind him snagged his shirt sleeve. It burned his skin as they traveled through the shadows in small distances at a time. He could not stop to put out the fire that was eating his arm. Xiumin screamed, which caught the attention to their aggresors. 

As the two darted haphazardly through the woods, another Jumper appeared in front of them, sword in hand. 

"What are you going to do?" it hissed. Chen separated himself from Xiumin and ran at it, head on. Xiumin almost stopped him, but knew that he had to go on. The two wrestled in the shrubery, battling for dominance, their power flickering. They were over Xiumin's head, they were in a tree, they were in the fire. The were both enduring for the sake of a cause, and although they could not be more opposite, they were also the very same.

Xiumin was becoming fully aware of the pain in his seared arm. His legs moved on their own, his mind dull, forgetting Chen and the company, only wishing for some relief. The fire died down as he neared a river bank, and as the morning sun pierced through the canopy, by the slightest of luck, Xiumin recognized the woods he was stumbling through. 

Although his body was still moving involunarily, a sweet memory flooded his brain. He thought it'd been erased when he began to get drilled into his role as a prince and future king, but it was becoming more vivid and he knew where he could go. 

A young Xiumin wandered into the woods, mad at his mother for telling him he couldn't make friends, that he'd never be able to love-concepts he couldn't fully understand but was still somehow hurt. It was early afternoon, spring, and the forest seemed to blossom just for him. As he marvelled at the flowers and sound of newborns, his attention was stolen by a person, who was trying to hide behind a tree. 

"I can see you," Xiumin said. A pale face peeked out from behind the bark, eyes large and captivating. Xiumin gasped as the boy emerged into the clearing, completely and utterly, . 

"Where are your clothes?" Xiumin demanded. 

"Nobody is supposed to see me out here," he answered, in a voice that sounded like the way water ripples when a butterfly dances too close to the surface. He was a part of the complex nature, his hair sweaty and tousled, creamy skin sparkling in the light. Xiumin could not respond. 

"Do you want to play?" the boy asked. "I'm Luhan."

When he smiled, it was impossible for Xiumin to say no. He deseparately wanted a friend and the king or queen would never have to find out. Neither of them dared to venture into the woods. Xiumin carefully slipped out of his heavy clothes, joining Luhan in blunt .

For hours, they played. They chased deer, climbed trees, ate ripe fruit straight from the plant, laughing as sticky juice dripped down their chins. Xiumin practiced his shapeshifting with Luhan, Luhan explaining that he hadn't figured out his power yet.

"Wanna see where I live?" Luhan asked, Xiumin nodded. Luhan reached for Xiumin's hand, and pulled him through a hidden path that lead to a massive oak. Luhan tapped his knuckled on the wood and a door was opened by a willowy woman, who greeted them with a near-toothless smile. 

"Hello dears," she said, patting Xiumin's shoulder. 

"My grandma is a Reader," Luhan said proudly as the elderly woman stared into Xiumin's eyes. He could feel her sifting through his thoughts and he tried helplessly to push her out. 

"Lulu," she said, growing cold, "Say goodbye to your friend. He should be getting home." 

"What did you see?" Luhan asked innocently. Xiumin felt a pain in his chest, the pain of being different. He and Luhan were from different worlds, he knew the woman was right to send him off. 

"I see his mother calling for dinner," she replied, kissing her grandson's head. 

Xiumin remembered the walk back alone, suddenly conscious of his stark body. Xiumin felt his body succumbing to the excrutiating pain that had spread to his lungs, and he collapsed as the memory dissipated into the ashy air. He clawed at the dirt, trying to pull himself forward, but to no avail. He could not see the oak, and his eyes refused to stay open. 

As he drowned in exhaustion, he thought of his younger self again, becoming one with that exposed flesh that craved the touch of sunlight and freedom.