Q&A with Alexa about her
childhood:
What do you remember of growing up
in Antion—before that awful day when you lost your parents?
Well, I remember my parents and
Marcel, mostly. My family and the jungle. We lived in a small village and the
jungle was everywhere, a constant threat. Growing up I remember sitting behind
our home, staring at the trees and vines and bushes, certain I would see a
snake or a jaguar if I watched long enough. The trees were like monsters to me
then, tangled, bent, and enormously tall, with vines dripping from their
branches that always seemed to be reaching for me. The leaves that would fall
to the ground were bigger than my father’s hands. Sometimes they were even
bigger than our heads. Marcel would pick them up and toss them at me
when we would play, shrieking, trying to make me think there was a huge bug on
them or something, just to frighten me.
I remember my mother singing to us
at night, to drown out the sounds of the insects and the howls of monkeys and
the rain on our thatched roof, which would keep me awake. I remember my father
giving me my first sword, and how I’d practice for hours and hours. I would
often continue training long after Marcel had given up and gone inside for the
day. At first, it was because I wanted to beat him, but soon I realized that
becoming skilled at using a sword and a bow and arrow brought me comfort. It
let me feel like perhaps I had the power to protect myself from the things I
feared. I never knew then just how true that would end up being.
Did you father ever talk about where
he was from? Did he tell you about Blevon or the war?
My father was a quiet man, and he
didn’t like to talk about his own childhood much. He almost never brought up
the war. Even though he trained us nearly every day, the thought of the war
reaching us there, in our tiny little village, seemed impossible—at least to
me. My parents tried to protect us from what was going on while simultaneously
preparing us for what might come. What I knew about the war I learned mostly
from listening to them talk at night when they thought I was asleep. The
village was very small, as I said, and there were lots of listening ears. We
kept to ourselves for the most part because the other villagers were nervous
around Father. I didn’t realize until I was older that it was because he was
Blevonese—because they were suspicious of him. And us. What kind of father
trained his son and daughter to master a sword and any other weapon possible at
such a young age? Thankfully, mine did. But no, to answer your question, I knew
very little about his life. I wish now that I had asked him more about it. That
is one of my greatest regrets.
You and Marcel worked hard from a
young age to become the amazing fighters that you were. It sounds like there
wasn’t much time for silliness. Did you ever relax and just have fun? Or play
any pranks on anyone?
We did work hard and life wasn’t
easy living where we did, even without all of the extra training we did. It was
a constant battle to keep the jungle at bay, just to keep our roads and homes
clear from the constant vegetation that was always trying to take over, or to
keep our livestock safe from predators. But we were still children, and there
were plenty of times when we acted like it. I remember once, Marcel found a
particularly large vine that almost looked like a snake and cut it down. He
convinced me to sneak over to Tanoori’s home with him and wait for her to come
outside and then throw it at her. I’d never heard her scream like that in my
life. Marcel loved to scare people. That’s probably why I was so terrified of
snakes, because he was always doing things like that to me, too. At least when
we were younger. Things changed quickly after our parents died. He never tried
to scare me again after that.
Is it difficult for you to talk
about your family?
Yes. I miss them. Every single day I
wish things had been different. I wonder what my life would have been like if
my parents had lived. Or if I’d been able to save Marcel. But I also know
there’s no changing the past and it doesn’t do any good to dwell on it. I have
to focus on those I love who are still alive—and do everything I can to keep
them that way.
