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A year ago, she had learned to read. All by herself.

I had bought her books for children her age, but after a week, she had already lost interest in them and had started reading the Percy Jackson series instead. Slowly at first, then faster and faster.

When I had returned from my shopping trip to Vancouver four months ago, she had been reading Willpower: The Rediscovery of Humans' Greatest Strength by Roy Baumeister and John Tierney, and told me that adults take life too seriously and that I should read Percy Jackson instead. Since that day, I let her choose whatever she wanted from the book catalogs.

All that reading actually helped distract her, even though, after she had read a book for adults, I often had to explain things to her that I would have preferred her to learn in ten years from now. Not to mention that after reading, the books increasingly had holes with scorched edges or even missing parts of the paper.

Of course, I had taken advantage of the situation to get her books – encyclopedias and schoolbooks with knowledge from third to tenth grade – that taught her things that she was actually still far too young for. But this world was tough, and as much as I wanted to protect her, the sooner she knew how things worked, the better her chances of surviving out there.

Within six months, she had acquired the math skills of a sixth grader, and even though she had enormous difficulty writing and mixed up the letters within words – because I didn't have time to practice all these things with her that she would normally have learned in two years from now at a damn elementary school – she didn't give up.

Since it had become problematic at some point that I had to buy her a pack of new ballpoint pens every week, I had switched to metal pens, and it worked.

Two months ago, I had given her a tablet with coding games, and it seemed to help with her boredom.

She begged me to let her download real games, like the ones the kids on TV all had on their phones, but I had explained to her that if she wanted games, she should learn a programming language so that she could eventually program her own games.

Since then, she had been silent, flipping through my C++ and Python manuals with a furrowed brow.

First and Last (Extended Album Version)

songs in cinema, Kenyatta Joyner

“You'll have friends,” I said, slightly afraid of the day she would ask for the truth. “I promise.”

I didn't know if she would hate me, but, at some point, she would be old enough to understand emotionally that I was just trying to protect her from the world out there. She would hate me, but I would be able to sleep peacefully knowing that she hadn't grown up in that cult. That she was free...

“Kieran?”

I looked down at her and nodded attentively, loosening her hairstyle so that it wasn't too tight on her scalp.

“Will you weave white Pacific trilliums into my hair?” She tilted her head and held on to the kitchen counter. “But the real ones.” She pointed past me to the front window, where the double glass doors leading to the terrace and the jetty were located. “From outside!”

“It's winter,” I laughed softly and raised both brows. “I can only use the fake ones.”

“But plant nurseries also grow summer flowers in greenhouses during the winter.”

I smiled with exhaustion. “The flower shop is already closed.”

She sighed as if she were an adult. “Oooookay.”

I playfully poked her nose.

“Who wants to be a princess again?”

“A fairy warrior!” she blurted out, beaming, and I had to step back because she slid off the kitchen counter, partly with the help of my supporting arms, stormed through the open ground floor to the couch, and lifted the wooden sword before climbing onto the couch and jumping around on it. “The one with the sword and bow and arrow!”

Did I mention that she was a walking bundle of energy?

She raised the sword, which, combined with her monkey onesie, was worth a photo. Unfortunately, I had left my phone in the garage on the other side of the lake.

“Okay, then I'll turn you into a fairy now.”

With playfully squinted eyes, I approached Azara, who stopped waving the sword around and held the tip against my chest, her eyes narrowed.

I raised both hands. “On the condition that you spare my life.”

She pulled back the wooden sword and giggled, which, combined with her freckles and light gray eyes, actually made her look like a little fairy for a moment.