I'd like to hear a short story from the word "reckless" if you don't mind :)

IT’S FINALLY HERE

I had an idea for this, connected to Silverstorm, but I’ve really struggled with it. The turning point was today at my uni Creative Writing Society when all of a sudden I had a eureka moment and finally, finally managed to tie it all together and I’m actually really happy with it. So, here you go. A short story prologue-type-thing for Silverstorm based on the word ‘Reckless’

On a lesser level, it was the first Thursday of the summer holidays after Avery’s first year at Sagedell Turris Academy. The pertinent aspect of the day, however, was that Avery was marching through London with her father, mother, brother, and at least a hundred other casters.

There were hundreds of people milling about in the square outside the Assembly Building. Avery was small for a twelve year old, and she kept one hand on her mother’s bag at all times to make sure they didn’t get separated in the bristling crowd. If she lost her family here, it would be a nightmare to try and find them again when she couldn’t see over most people’s shoulders, let alone their heads. Her other hand clutched a badge which she hadn’t yet had time to stop and attach to her top, or her hat, or wherever the most people would be able to see it. She was too small to carry one of the picket signs that were scattered around, but the badge had the same font emblazoned on it to match some of the boards: Casters want to cast their vote. Avery wasn’t particularly impressed by the phrase, but she agreed with the principal and that was why they were all here in the first place.

The march was loud and rowdy but eventually someone, or several someones, managed to establish at least some semblance of order and organisation. An already-tall man had found some sort of step or box to stand on so he could address the entirety of the crowd, and Avery could see him despite her small stature.

“We have bowed for too long under a government that doesn’t care! We have struggled for too long without voices! Did we casters invent democracy only to be conned by a sham of it, tricked and bound under an authoritarian Assembly?” His voice boomed across heads as the crowd quieted to listen, then roared in agreement. “What do we say to the Assembly?” The man hollered again.

Siva swore along with the rest of the throng, and it was testimony to the strangeness of the day that neither their mother or their father reprimanded him. Avery didn’t swear out loud. In her head, she ran through a few of her favourite words and thought them aggressively at the Assembly. She heard some of the curses echoed by people around her before the cries died down. Once they had, the group hovered, still and expectant, watching the man. Avery took the moment to tug her hat off and fix the badge to the band of red ribbon around the base of it.

Nearly before she could replace it on her head, chanting had started up again.

The protest remained peaceful for a good few hours, despite the seething horde of protesters, and Avery remembered one of Siva’s friends accusing him of enjoying battling bureaucratic injustice. She thought the wild flame in her stomach might feel similarly.

It wasn’t until after lunch that it got ugly.

They almost missed the first fire to start. Avery had been complaining about being cold, and she felt the warmth from the car at her back before she saw anything. She frowned and turned, grimacing at the car until she saw the flickering orange glow and her eyes went wide.

“Mum, there’s a fire in the car.”

Gracie Rao swivelled around, took in the fire at a glance, and spun back to her husband.

“Kish, we need to leave.”

Gracie snatched Avery’s hand but then someone grabbed Avery’s arm and yanked, and her parents disappeared into the crowd.

She gritted her teeth and snatched her arm back from whoever it was pulling her deeper into the crowd and was suddenly stranded on her own in the middle of the crowd. Someone screamed just above her ear. Avery elbowed them in the stomach.

The day got worse from there. Bluecoats appeared out of nowhere, the crowd whipped itself up into a frenzy, and the protest was a riot. At the back of her head, Avery thought she should have been scared, but she was angry now, too, and she had always been reckless.

More and more car fires were sparking up in the square and the surrounding roads and the air turned an evil orange as the heat started to build. Someone shoved Avery towards one of the flaming vehicles and she stumbled, just as the windows exploded from the heat and shattered glass flew out, lacerating Avery’s arms when she through them off to protect her face. One large shard of glass sliced her right forearm and she cried out, crumpling to the ground on top of the smaller pieces.

Avery lay there for a moment to steady her breathing but grit her teeth and determined to fight on. She bound her arm roughly with fabric torn from the bottom of her cardigan and jumped straight back up again. The car next to her was still on fire and someone shouted duck. She couldn’t tell who it was but she ducked anyway because she’d already figured out that every word meant life or death here. Something whistled angrily over her head and smashed into the brick wall of the post office behind her. When she looked up, there was no sign of the thrower.

Avery snarled and snatched up a shard of glass the side of her hand from the shattered remains of the car window on the ground and grit her teeth against the heat of it. She couldn’t see her parents anywhere, so she launched at the first bluecoat she saw beating someone and slashed at the, with her makeshift weapon. He cried out and turned his attention on her but she was a wildcat, kicking, biting, punching, scratching and slashing. The woman on the ground staggered to her feet and goes to help but Avery screamed at her to go, get away, run. As soon as the woman was gone, Avery lashed out one last time and then she was off and running herself, towards anyone that looked even vaguely familiar.

The man who had been leading the protest earlier was stood in front of the government building, so she sprinted at him because there was no one else. He swore when he saw her.

“Why are there kids here?”

Avery swore back, tasted the word like metal in her mouth, and shouted that she was going to fight. The man said his name was Jasper, call me Jazz, and they slapped hands in a rushed handshake. Avery’s hand was small in his, and his eyes were still disbelieving, but Avery spun around and stabbed at another bluecoat and he shook his head.

“Alright Avery, but you’re only fighting here until we see your parents. After that I’ve got plans for you.”

Avery saluted like she’d seen in a film once, settled the vicious glow of rebellion somewhere behind her heart, and fought her first battle.