“THE ISLAND OF ISLES ARE IN DANGER!” A woman sitting on the living room cried, “BETHY, AREN’T YOU CHECKING OUT THE NEWS? COME OUT, COME OUT!”

The woman was about forty years old, with red frizzy hair and a fat tummy. She was sitting on a rug in the living room, watching the television. Her name was Mrs Balony. The presenter was saying, _“Cornian soldiers are now attacking the Island of Isles. Here, you can see people living here escaping from there houses. We now announce the numbers: a family dead, five hurt-”_

A teenage girl walked out of the room and _switched off_ the television. The television blackened with a _‘snap’_. She was beautiful, with red hair like her mother, though it was smooth, which should be inherited from her father. She was wearing a long multi-coloured dress, which touched the ground. Unlike her mother, she was slim and tall. “Mum!” she said, narrowing her emerald eyes, “I know that, you don’t have to tell me. Don’t always yell; the neighbours complain.”

“How did you know it? The news, I mean.” Mrs Balony asked, not looking bothered, lowering her voice. Still, it was louder than usual people. Mrs Balony had a loud booming voice. The girl grinned, showing her _white, pearl-like teeth_: _“There’s a thing called a mobile phone.”_

“Ahh,” Mrs Balony sighed, “Alas, I do not like these things. Why use mobile phones, when talking face to face is enough?”

“Mum’s too… Uh… Behind the times.” The girl said.

“ANNABETH! COME AND PLA-AY!” A girl with braids called outside the window, putting hers hands next to her mouth.

“COME-MING!” The teenage girl, Annabeth, yelled through the window. “Mum, I’ve gotta go, Chrissy’s waiting for me.”

“Oh, right! Bye then, Bethy. _Call me through your mobile phone_ when you’re coming back.” Mrs Balony replied and went into her bedroom, intending to have a nap.

Annabeth covered her mouth as she giggled and left the house.

“Hi Chrissy!” Annabeth waved her hands as she ran towards Chrissy.

Chrissy was a girl with pigtails. She was wearing a green skirt. Seeing Annabeth, she ran towards her. Both girls were _panting heavily_ as Chrissy replied, “Hello Annabeth! Whatcha doin’ just now?”

“My mum’s always so loud,” Annabeth moaned, “We were scolded by our neighbours for like, ten times already. I don’t understand why she’s always so noisy. And, the problem is, it’s _me_ who opens the door every time, and so it’s _me _who gets scolded every time when the truth is, the one who’s noisy is _my mum_.”

_“Aww, poor you…”_ Chrissy patted Annabeth’s back, smiling gently: “You’ve gotta _bear_ with it, ya know? You’ve gotta _bear_ with it.”

“Yeah…” Annabeth sighed. She _straightened_ up: “Chrissy, let’s play hide-and-seek in the forest.” Though they were both teenage girls, they _still_ loved it.

“All right!” Chrissy grinned: “You’re it!”

The girls walked towards the forest, chatting on the way. The forest was a stunning place of shadows, with gentle wind blowing. Birds chirped as foxes ran amidst the grass and owls booted at night. It was a magnificent place, and it was perfect for hide-and-seek. Few people went in; only travellers and villagers strolled around inside occasionally.

“Ready?” Chrissy asked, “I’ll count to a hundred and go and find you.”

“Ready,” Annabeth replied, her face _determined_. “Remember you only have five minutes to find me! I’ll set my timer. Don’t forget to set yours.”

_“Fine,” _Chrissy snickered, _“You scared I’m gonna win?”_

“You bet.” Annabeth stuck her tongue at Chrissy, made a face and rushed in. After a few seconds, she could still hear Chrissy counting ‘five… six…’ and she couldn’t hear her anymore as she ran deeper into the forest. Only the sounds of birds chirping and grass rustling could be heard.

Running and running, Annabeth didn’t dare to huff and puff loudly in case Chrissy heard her. She pulled out her timer: four and a half minutes to go. Suddenly, she _tripped herself over_ and fell down with a ‘bang’.

“Oww.” she groaned and whimpered. She pulled up her dress. Her right leg was bleeding: she had hit her leg against a rock when she fell. She heaved herself against a tree trunk and sat there. ‘What should I do?’ she thought, ‘Should I call Chrissy or walk towards the village?’ She patted the mud and sand off herself.

Slowly, the blood stopped spilling. Just then, she heard _hooves clattering_ on the ground, slow and steady, going to her direction. “Who can it be?” She asked herself. It couldn’t be Chrissy; she didn’t have a horse. ‘Don’t tell me this person, whoever he is, is a Cornian,’ she thought desperately, ‘Cornians are _cruel_. They _killed people and stole from houses_.’

The mysterious person appeared. It was a teenager, a boy wearing a traditional costume from her village, riding a horse. He looked brave and bold, with brown curly hair, only the costume made him look strange. His eyes were crystal blue like the lake; or was it like the sea? There was a mole under his left eye. He looked tall, sitting on the horse, looking at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked. He gave her his right hand hesitantly. Annabeth slowly grasped hold of it. His hand was smooth and warm. She pulled his hand and slowly got up. “Thank you.” she nodded to him and limped as she took a few steps.

The teenager grasped hold of her shoulder just as she _stumbled_. “You cannot walk,” he told her, frowning, “Hop on my horse and let us go.”

He gently picked her up and put her at the back of the horse: “Hold tight to my shoulders; it is going to be a bumpy ride.” Annabeth noticed that his English was weird, like he was _unfamiliar_ with it.

_The ride was not bumpy at all._ The boy made his horse _trot slowly_, so as to not make Annabeth feel pain.

“Thanks,” Annabeth told him. “Do not mention it.” The teenager murmured.

“I’m happy knowing that you’re a good guy,” Annabeth said happily, “Don’t you know the Cornians are attacking? Dear traveller, why have you come?”

The teenager gasped ‘huh’ quietly. Annabeth didn’t notice and continued, “You must be a traveller. Your English’s a bit strange, but it’s good enough. At least I understand you. For your outfit, it’s… it’s from, like, a few hundred years. It looks nice, but I rarely see people wearing this anymore.”

The teenager widened his eyes: “Oh, thank you. I never knew.” Annabeth said, “I could lend you dad’s clothes. I think you’re tall enough to wear them.”

_“…Thank you.”_ the teenager replied after a pause.

“You’re welcome,” Annabeth told him. “I don’t really know what’s happening right now; only my dad tells me that the Cornians are horrible.”

The teenager thought for a while. “…Why?” He _shrugged_: “Just, you know, _curious because I am asking_.”

_“Asking because I am curious,” _Annabeth corrected him, “Well… Dad says that Cornian soldiers steal from homes. They murder and set fires… that kinda stuff. These are bad. Bad guys do them.”

_“So Cornians are bad guys?”_ the teenager _asked softly_. Annabeth nodded _vigorously_: “Bad. BAD.”

The teenager _fell silent_. Annabeth didn’t want to disturb him, and the two travelled through the forest in silence. After a while, the teenager spoke. _“You… You live in that village?”_ he asked, pointing at the road towards the village. His voice was rather hoarse.

“Yeah.” Annabeth answered, “My friends and family live there as well.”

The two felt awkward. The teenager didn’t speak until they arrived at the path towards the village: “What is your name?”

“I’m Annabeth. Annabeth Balony.” Annabeth answered. _“Well… I am… I am Ivan. Ivan Casper.”_ The teenager, Ivan, mumbled in reply.

“Nice meeting you, Ivan.” Annabeth smiled.

Ivan looked away and said offhandedly, “Annabeth. Nice… nice name.”

“Thanks,” Annabeth answered. She noticed Ivan’s ears were _red_.

“I cannot go into the village with you,” Ivan told her, “This is where we say goodbye.”

“I’ve got to get you your clothes,” Annabeth said, her eyes _wide with surprise_, “You should wait here.”

Ivan shook his head hard: “No, no, no, I… I should not use them.” He lowered Annabeth onto the ground. “Be careful,” he told her, “Walk slowly and do not trip. Do not fall down again.” He turned his horse, “Thank you, Annabeth. Be careful. Goodbye. Do not mention me to anyone.” He patted his horse. The horse neighed loudly and galloped away, the sounds of its hooves getting smaller and smaller.

Annabeth watched Ivan and his horse leave. She tilted her head, wondering why Ivan couldn’t go into the village and walked back home. Her heart was _beating madly_; she could feel it. She couldn’t help but keep on thinking of him: how he put her onto his horse; how he said he couldn’t borrow her dad’s clothes.

Ivan’s heart was _beating madly _as well. He could feel it too.

Back at home, Annabeth called, “Mum, I’m back!”

Mrs Balony walked out, putting her hands on her hips and _scowling_: “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?” she demanded, “CHRISSY COULDN’T FIND YOU.”

Annabeth gave a _sheepish smile_: “Well she couldn’t find me. I… I thought I would lose if I appeared, so I continued hiding.”

Mrs Balony said, “Pah! Hades curse you.” And walked away, mumbling to herself, _“Hades curse you! Hiding, really!”_

_ _At night, Annabeth finished supper. “Mum, Dad, I’m full.” she stood up, pushing her chair to the table.

Annabeth’s dad, Mr Balony, smiled: “That’s a dear, Bethy.” He grinned: “Guess what! Our country had caught a captain’s son, a Cornian.”

Annabeth grinned as well. “Oooh! Yay, Dad! Is that son of the captain important?”

“Very,” Mr Balony chuckled, “The captain’s the one leading his army.” He handed Annabeth his newspaper. “Read it, that’s a dear,” he told her.

Annabeth was grinning as she read it aloud, _“Joy to us home country, for the enemy’s captain’s son, a teenage named Ivan-” _She gasped and stopped reading. Her heart was pounding as she read the name _‘Ivan Casper’_.

“Him!” Annabeth gasped.

Mr Balony looked at her. “Yes?” he asked, staring at her.

“He… he’s so young! How could he!” Annabeth stuttered. Luckily, her father didn’t overthink. He couldn't imagine that Annabeth had known Ivan, or that she had _fallen in love_ with him. “Yes, that’s right,” Mr Balony nodded, “The younger he is, the more dangerous he is. It’s fortunate that our side has captured him.”

Annabeth, hearing his words, wanted to hit him in the face. How dare he speak like that of Ivan! Annabeth had never thought that Ivan was a Cornian, but now - the clothing, the words Ivan said - they _made sense_. That’s why he wore traditional clothes - he didn’t know that these were not the clothing they now wore. That’s why he spoke English strangely - he had just learnt it! Tourists and travellers would have known that they never wore that clothing nowadays.

Annabeth took a deep breath. She knew that she would never be able to forget Ivan, no matter where he had come from. She knew it. Trying to keep her voice steady, she asked her father pleasingly, “Daddy! Where’s that horrid spy now?” ‘Forgive me, Ivan,’ she said silently.

“You’re interested?” Mr Balony asked, clearly satisfied that his daughter was interested in the news, “He’s in jail, definitely. He was found near us - almost the other side of the forest, in fact - so I think he’s in the jail near us.” His gaze turned stern. “Don’t go see him, Bethy,” he chided, “He’s a lunatic - all Cornians are.”