Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Retla ❯ Chapter 1: Silver Dreams ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Retla

Chapter One

Silver Dreams

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“What are you doing?”

Whipping around with a fierce snarl, the boy was upon the little girl before she had a chance to even blink. Pinning her beneath him and wrapping his hands around her neck, he stared down at her with teeth bared and a fierce snarl ripping from his throat. His blood pounded in his ears, panic singing from the hairs on his head to the toes on his feet, and he tightened his grip, fully intended to snap her neck, when his gaze clashed with hers.

Huge blue eyes stared at him, curiosity quickly overshadowing the shock from being thrown on the ground. She gave a strangled gasp and covered her hands with his own. It was almost as if an electric current flashed through him. Her hands were cold, shaking slightly, and with a shocked hiss he jerked away and scurried away from her, putting a few feet between them.

“Are you hiding from somebody?” She asked, sitting up and touching her throat softly. His gaze caught the darkening of the skin around her pale neck, his throat tightening painfully as he recognized the shape of his fingers. She fingered it gently, pursed her lips and waited, clearly expecting an answer.

Who the hell was she?

“I was going to kill you,” He growled at her, still watching the bruise forming under her skin. He ripped his gaze away, flicking over her quickly before he inched a few feet further away from her. She was clothed in a simple white dress that was now covered in a fine layer of dust and dead grass, her long black hair was pulled into two braids that rested over each shoulder. Her skin was pale, almost white in the moonlight, eyes glowing like orbs in the glow of the camp fire a few feet from them.

“Why?”

“How did you sneak up on me?” He snapped, finally glancing around. Realizing it was unwise to take his eyes off of her, even for a second, he glared at her with as much hostility he could muster and bared his teeth. The particular place he had set up camp had been strategically chosen; downhill so that his scent would be hidden to most, deep enough in the trees that by the time anyone was able to see or scent the burning wood he would have been well aware of their presence. He couldn't understand how she had been able to sneak up on him undetected. His senses were unparalleled. She shouldn't have been able to come within hundreds of feet before he sensed her.

Under any other circumstances, he would have been dead already.

But she hadn't attacked him, hadn't screamed or seemed scared of him at all. Those eyes seemed to unfocus, and silence stretched between them for endless seconds before she finally focused back onto him. “I didn't sneak up on you,” she said slowly. “But … suddenly I was just standing behind you. I … I can't remember anything before that.”

“What?” he bit out. She flinched and cowered from him a bit, and a small part of him appreciated the gesture. It seemed she finally understood the danger she was in. “You were just walking aimlessly through the forest?”

“Forest?” she asked, looking around. He fought his surge of anger, bit back his growl. She didn't seem to notice his fraying patience. “I don't remember walking anywhere. I just blinked, and suddenly here I was.” She looked at him and tilted her head to the side, and he found himself staring back into an ocean of pure curiosity. “Do you always go camping by yourself?”

“I'm not camping.”

“Then why are you in the forest?”

“I live here.”

“In the forest?”

“Who are you?” he snapped.

“Halo,” She told him simply. Her expression hadn't changed, but her eyes were smiling. “What's your name?”

Instead of answering, he turned and walked away from her, facing back towards the camp fire. He felt, rather than heard her following after him, ignoring her as she sat across from him, tucking her legs to the side demurely. Her scent drifted across him them, oceans and rainwater, and an ache erupted in his chest.

“So?” She finally said.

Her voice was soft, he noticed, though not as feminine as he thought it would be. He made a face at his thoughts and glanced at her. Watching her for a moment, he intuitively knew she harbored no animosity or hostility of any kind. The reading of aura's, or what some people may call spiritual or magical energy, was something his people taught at birth. Although she seemed a bit shaken, outwardly she was calm, watching him with pure intrigue. Her eyes were huge as she stared back at him, illuminated by the fire, and his gaze skittered away again. “So, what?”

“Your name?”

“What about it?”

A flash of annoyance now. “You never told me.”

A loud grumble bit off his retort, and he watched as her cheeks pinked prettily. She smacked her hands over her stomach and ducked her head, her face suddenly hidden by her bangs. Sighing, he stood and made to venture out of the campsite before he realized what he was doing. A cold hand grasped his wrist, the grip tight but hardly painful, shaking. His eyes followed the small fingers and into those huge blue eyes, looking at him now, the curiosity muted by worry. “I thought you were hungry?” He said, dryly.

“But aren't you hiding?” She whispered, glancing over her shoulder. “It's not safe for you, right?” She glanced around for a minute and dropped her hand, wrapping her arms around her middle. He could sense it--- she was frightened at the thought of him heading into the forest. “No, I'm fine. You don't have to.”

She left him standing there, even more confused than before, as she quickly took her place back across from him, staring into the flames pensively.

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`Where am I?'

The fire crackled, its warmth floating over her skin in rhythm to her beating heart and she sighed inwardly. She couldn't remember anything. The moment she had stepped into the clearing, saw the white haired boy sitting before the fire, she had felt a rush of relief that caused her knees to quake. She hadn't had time to wonder where exactly she was, the feeling she had finally found something she had been searching for with every fiber of her being overshadowed everything else. She had waiting a moment, savoring the scene of the white hair boy staring pensively into the fire, his back straight and tense, ready to spring at the first intrusion. And her heart had lurched the longer she stood there. The scene was so lonely, her heart had clenched, and she reacted way before her brain could process the predatory danger a few feet away from her. But the more she watched, the more the scene turned tragic, heartbreaking for her, and she had reacted before her brain could fully process the predatory danger sitting dozens of feet from her.

She had spoken, and he had inhaled sharply in shock, the sound almost whistling down his throat before he pinned her to the ground, fingers locked around her throat. He moved faster than her eyes could follow, his lips pulled back from his teeth. Piercing grey, almost silver eyes narrowed into slits as he snarled in her face, and for a brief heartbeat she was terrified. But the fear emanating from him was so strong that it crowded out her own, and she knew instinctively that as long as she meant him no harm, he wouldn't hurt her.

He released her after a few endless seconds and she sat up, watching as he scurried away from her. Distrust radiated from every fiber, and she had the faint sense every hair on his body was standing on end. “Are you hiding from somebody?” He didn't react, but she sensed his discomfort, saw the wild fluttering of his pulse at his throat, and knew she was right. “Why did you jump on me?”

“I was going to kill you,” He finally told her in a snarl, and she felt her skin turn ice cold, knowing that he spoke true. She stared at him, watching at his gaze flicked over her and she willed her heartbeat to calm. Something about him was almost wild, feral. Her mommy had told her once that animals could smell fear. She didn't want to make him any more uncomfortable than he already was. He was bare chested, filthy, covered in bruises, scratches and the like. Silver, almost white hair dusted his shoulders, his bangs sticking to a bloody forehead. His piercing grey eyes watched her warily.

“Why?” She asked him.

He glanced around them suddenly, caught himself and glared mulishly at her. “How did you sneak up on me?”

She thought about it for a moment, biting her lip. “I didn't sneak up on you,” she finally told him. ““But … suddenly I was just standing behind you. I … I can't remember anything before that.” Sure enough, everything before was a blank slate. All she could remember was opening her eyes, and seeing the boy sitting by himself. Covered in dirt and blood, his body stiff with tension. But his eyes … his eyes were sad, and lonely, and before she knew it she had opened her mouth and made herself known.

She suddenly wanted to know more about him, this strange boy with the beautiful eyes in the moonlight.

“Who are you?” He bit out, as if he couldn't stop himself from asking.

“Halo,” she answered, amusement flooding her chest. He was intrigued, and he didn't want to be. “What's your name?”

But he had stopped glaring at her, turned his back and walked to the camp fire. Confused for a bit, she quickly followed and sat across from him. Mindful of her dress, she sat with her legs tucked next to her. “So?”

He peered at her, seemed a bit flushed by something he saw in her face, and looked into the fire, poking at the logs burning underneath. “So, what?”

“Your name?”

“What about it?”

She gritted her teeth. “You never told me.”

Suddenly, her stomach growled. Loudly. With a sharp inhalation of breath, she felt her face warm up and she ducked her head, embarrassed. He blinked at her before laughing once, and pushed to his feet.

And that's when she felt it, a flash of murderous joy, so potent and chilling that she could almost feel the evil in that emotion like a slime coating the inside of her chest. Panic seized her chest, icing her blood, and she reached out before she knew it and grabbed him, fingers locking with her terror. The woods suddenly seemed menacing, dark, and treacherous. She knew, she just knew, that it would be dangerous for the boy to venture out into the unknown by himself. He glanced down at her and frowned. “Aren't you hungry?” He asked sourly.

Awareness slithered over her, lighting her nerves and making her skin extremely sensitive. She could sense it, the tension as whatever awaited their next movement. She could feel the undivided attention, the focus on them feeling as if it was burning a hole through her chest, and she shuddered lightly, tightening her grip. “But aren't you hiding?” she whispered. She glanced over her shoulder, her skin crawling for the second time, and she knew under no circumstances would she let him leave the safety of the camp fire. She dropped her hand from his wrist. “It's not safe for you, right?” She didn't give him a chance to answer. “No, I'm fine. You don't have to.”

Her eyes lifted from the camp fire, and she found him staring at her, puzzled, as if he was trying to figure something out. Finally, he blew out his breath in a gust. “You can sense them, can't you?”

“What? Sense who?”

His gaze flashed to the outside of the camp, and she shivered again. “Whoever is there. You can tell they're there.” It wasn't a question. “How did you get past them?”

“So something is there,” She muttered, suddenly drawing her legs up to her chest. She closed her eyes. “If you knew, then why would you leave?”

“They will never kill me on a full moon,” he growled, his voice savage. Her eyes; he was staring at a place behind her, over her shoulder, his teeth bared. “They won't be able to harm me, and they know it.”

“So in the morning …”

His anger evaporated, and his eyes touched on her before he looked away.

“Will they hurt you?” she asked quietly, dropping her chin on her knees.

His gaze met hers, and once again she could see sadness mirrored into her own. And then two things happened at once--- her skin trembled, the hair on her neck standing on end a split moment before she found herself suddenly surrounded by warmth, her face smashed against the skin of his chest as a huge sonic boom shook the forest floor and sent them flying backwards. She felt them twist in midair, crying out while they smacked against the tree, the impact jarring her horrible despite him taking the brunt of it. With a pained groaned he slid to the floor, his arms dropping from around her. She screamed and touched his face, pushing his hair back out of his eyes. “Are you okay?” she asked him hysterically. He nudged her hand weakly, eyelids fluttering, trying to come to.

She was snatched back against a broad chest by the fabric of her dress, her scream cut off by the glint of the huge knife that was suddenly pushed against her throat. She whimpered, and the boy's eyes slowly opened, blinking a few times. Seeing her being held by the hair with a knife pressed to her throat, the boy roared in defiance and jumped to his feet, stopping short at something Halo couldn't see.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you,” The man laughed, pushing the knife harder against her throat. Her heart was hammering wildly against her chest, and she weakly reached and dug her nails into the muscular forearm snaked around her throat. The man didn't seem to notice. “Got you a pretty little friend here didn't cha?” he leaned down, pressing his face into Halo's hair and taking a dramatic deep breath. His arm tightened around her neck and he sighed, letting out a soft chuckle. “Pretty one, indeed.”

“You dare challenge me, fae?” the boy asked quietly, straightening. Two other figures entered the fray behind him, dressed in simple jeans and t-shirts. She tried to squeak out a warning, horror causing tears to flood her eyes but he held her gaze for a moment; gave an imperceptible shake of his head. “Are you really that foolish?”

“Watch your mouth, mutt.” Her captor bit out, all humor gone. He tightened his choke hold, partially cutting of her airway. She felt a sharp pinch, warmth trailing down the front of her dress and she whimpered, scoring her nails across his skin. “Sure, we can't kill you under the safety of the goddess. But your friend here is another story.”

“Save some for me, Freud.” One of the men called out, leering. He snapped his teeth at her playfully, before licking his lips. He had red hair on his head and face, dusting his arms; his teeth were pointed and gnarly, unnatural. He wasn't human, she realized. Her heart stuttered, skipped a beat, and her fear spiked up another notch. “She smells good enough to eat.”

“Run!” She managed to gasp out, her nails finally drawing blood. Freud, her captor, growled and shook her roughly. “Run, get away!”

The boy didn't move.

The men watched in shocked silence for a split second before they burst into a roar of laughter. The man who hadn't spoken yet stepped forward, and with a shout gave the boy a powerful kick sent him sprawling at Freud's feet. Halo shrieked as Freud's large foot came down brutally, using his heel to dig his face in the dirt. `Why isn't he running?' her mind screamed as Freud's companions joined him, stomping the boy mercilessly. His eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth gnashed together in pain, but he never made a sound. Only the sounds of their laughter and Halo's sobbing could be heard. `Please, you have to get away!'

After a while they stepped back; the boy was covered in bruises on his back and side, his chest horrible discolored and seemed to be caving on one side. One his eyes swollen shut, his mouth bloody as he spit a mouthful into the dirt, and she felt bile rising up her stomach, trapped in her throat by the arm holding her prisoner. One of the men reached down and grabbed him by the hair, forcing him limply to his knees, and Halo was flung to the ground a second later, given a vicious kick that sent her rolling a few feet away. She groaned, weakly rolling onto her side and wrapping her arms around herself, choking and coughing up a mouthful of blood. Pain radiated from her midsection to every crevice of her body; she struggled to her knees, one hand still wrapped around her stomach, and retched violently. Through the haze of pain the sound of a struggle registered and she collapsed onto her side, seeing the boy began to thrash, pulling to get away and dragging his captors in her direction. Shock rendered them immobile, allowing him to actually pull them a few feet until Freud settled him with a well-placed punch to the stomach. He gagged, his eyes bulging, blood dripping from him mouth and running down his chin, staining the dirt covered on his chest.

“Stop,” Halo whispered, watching as Freud rubbed her blood off of the knife by the bottom of his shirt. The two other men held the boy up by the arms, and Freud set the tip against the boy's stomach, sneering in his face. “Please, don't.”

Her pleas went unheard as the tip of the knife pierced the boy's skin. Her vision winked in and out, unconsciously slowly seeping into her, and but she fought against it. She faintly heard Freud laughed with glee at the boy's restraint; could vaguely see him pushing the knife a little further into the boy's body. “If you last until the morning, boy, we won't kill the girl.” He muttered, twisting the knife slightly. The boy hissed and blanched, the muscles in his arms flexing, and the men held him tighter.

“Stop it,” She reached towards him, her vision beginning to blur. With each beat of her heart she could hear her blood roaring through her ears, drowning out every other sound around her. The world around her began to tremble, the edges of her sight blurring as rage, hot and bitter and uncontrollable began to churn her belly. With each pump of her heart, her body heat inched up another notch, and her fingers stretched towards the scene before her, trembling precariously as she tried to reach him. Her head began to spin, her fingertips and toes tingling before the sensation slowly spread up her arms and legs. “Please, let him go.”

“We just want to have a little fun with her,” Freud said, watching the boy' expression, pushing the knife to the hilt. She saw the boy raise his head, staring Freud in the eyes, a wicked smile spreading across his face. She felt a flicker of pure bloodlust, unbridled hunger, undiluted evil, and her stomach heaved again as Freud stumbled back, the knife pulling out of the boy and falling to the floor with a clang. His face was pale, Halo realized when her sickness passed. He was trembling; his breathing was loud enough to be heard by her, even though he was a few feet away. He was afraid.

After a moment he shook his head as if to dispel his fear, snatched the knife off of the ground and grabbed the boy by the neck, lifting him a few feet off of the ground. “You little bastard!”

He raised the knife high, the glint of the silver shining from the moonlight, and her body flashed white hot. Shocking, agonizing, yet she watched with absolute clarity as the knife swung lower and lower. Blood roared in her ears, burned in her mouth, twisted painfully in her stomach, and she screamed...

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“Are you feeling okay?”

Blinking, Halo found herself almost nose to nose with her best friend Rita, who was peering at her with worry. She forced a smile, kissing Rita's nose and laughing when the girl sputtered and fell back in the grass on her bottom, a soft blush stealing up her cheeks.

Rita smiled, picking up a handful of grass and tossing it in Halo's direction. “You keep staring off into space. What are you thinking about?”

Silver eyes flashed in her head, and her smile fell. She looked off into the distance and bit her lip. `Whose eyes are those?' she asked herself, for maybe the millionth time. `Who is he?'

Rita watched her and sighed as she fell forward, straight into Halo's lap, startling her. Halo glanced down as Rita turned to her side, stretching her arms out drifting her eyes closed. The sun warmed the grass of the small flower meadow where they relaxed often; the scent of wildflowers and freshly cut grass was thick, hypnotic, but not cloying. Birds called to each other in the distance, squirrels and rabbits frolicked happily in the shade of the trees just outside the meadow.Rita traveled here often, nurturing the flowers that grew here and often selling the petals in her herpathocary shop she ran with her family in town. Often times she would drag Halo with her, he usually found herself laying in the middle of the field, the sun warming her cheeks, the flowers stroking her skin almost lovingly, the sky pure and never ending as far as she could see.

She plucked a flower out of Rita's basket and tucked a stem into her hair, running soft fingers over the petals. “Are you thinking about Luke?” Rita mused.

Heat stole into Halo's cheeks and she snorted. “Please. He's an ass. End of story.”

Rita's soft laughter rang out, and Halo's blush deepened. “Oh, come on. You can't tell me you had no idea until yesterday.”

“Rita,” Halo sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Just hear me out,” Rita said quickly. “You guys have been friends forever. Why wouldn't he fall in love with you?”

`Because we grew up together,' Halo thought, exasperated. She scowled. `He's like a brother to me.` “It's …. just weird.” She finally answered. Rita frowned. “I'm not going out with him, and that's that.”

Rita sat up, her curly brown hair framing her face. Her freckled nose wrinkled, and she sneezed and sniffled. Halo laughed. “Oh, you aren't even giving him a chance!” She sneezed again, reaching out and plucking Halo in the forehead before she can laugh again. “Stop laughing! You know my allergies are horrible this time of year.”

“And yet, you drag me out here with you every day.”

“You likeeeee it,” Rita sang smugly.

“I never---“ She inhaled sharply, her mouth going dry, and snapped her head to the left, a numb feeling spreading over her lips and causing her pulse to quicken. Her skin trembled, the blood turning ice cold in her veins, and she pressed her lips together in a line.

“Halo?” she heard Rita ask, worried. She blinked, realizing Rita was waving a hand in front of her face, her features pinched and pale as she glanced in the direction Halo was staring. “Is everything okay? Is something wrong?”

Halo forced a smile, but it never reached her eyes. She pulled Rita to her feet and along with her roughly, never looking back. “I'm starving,” she tried to sound cheerful, but in the end she knew she wouldn't be able to fool her childhood bestfriend. But she knew one way to get her attention that was sure fire to work. “Let's get some food.”

“Sounds great,” Rita exclaimed, and Halo grinned internally. Worked like a charm.

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“Dammit, Halo. How many times do I have to tell you about roaming alone this time of night?”

Not responding, Halo shut and locked the wooden door behind her with an inaudible sigh. “I was with Rita,” she said dryly. “I walked her home and then I came straight back, Bo.”

Bo glared as she sat heavily in the handmade wooden chair by the fire, pulling off her boots with a grimace. They made a dull noise as she dropped them from her fingers and worked to rub her aching feet, one by one. Eventually she glanced up at him and raised an eyebrow. He pointed a finger at her accusingly; his skin calloused and stained from years of carpentry. “Look Lo-Lo, you have to be more careful …” He started.

“How long are you going to call me that?” she mumbled, knowing he was only trying to irritate her. She hated being called that, and he knew it.

“Until you're an old woman,” he answered automatically. “And don't try to change the subject. Either you'll be more careful or I'll kick your ass.”

Halo hid her grin. Bo had never struck her in her life. He'd punish her somehow, she knew. But physical harm to her was an empty threat, and they both knew it. “Rita promised she'd drop off some medicine tomorrow.” She told him, bending to pick up her boots. She stood and padded to the back of the rather large cabin, throwing them in the corner once she stepped into her room. She heard Bo lumbering behind her and sighed. A large man, almost seven feet tall and weighing in at well over two hundred and fifty pounds, if Bo stomped his foot hard enough she would be able to feel the tremors no matter which corner of the cabin she stood.

She watched as he crowded her door way and continued to glare. Short cut brown hair covered his head and brown hair dusted the arms she could see through the sleeves of his dirty t-shirt. “Did you leave town again?”

“Technically, it was still town.” She said evasively, pulling her long ink black braid over her shoulder and swiftly unbraiding it. She allowed it to flow freely down her shoulders and she sighed, running her fingers through it absently, knowing Bo would begin on a tirade that might last a while if he figured out exactly, how far into the woods she went. So she took another tactic. “And besides, I had Rita and Luke with me.” Which wasn't exactly a lie; as her and Rita were leaving the clearing, Luke had been on his way back into town, and they all decided to grab a bite to eat together.

She peeked up at him through the fringe of her bangs and smirked. Bo stood there with his arms crossed, a deep frown on his face as he stared at some place over her head. Luke was the son of one of Bo's closest friends. There weren't many he trusted, but Luke, and his father, was definitely someone he knew he could depend on. She could see him warring with the worry that she may get hurt, or even worst caught, outside of the town limits. But with Luke there, and even Rita, he knew as well as she did that she was safe.

He was silent for a few moments, and she worried that if he took any longer she was going to laugh out right. “Well, even with Luke,” he began reluctantly. “You kids should know better.”

“I don't always need an escort,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, you do.” He leaned against the doorway and eyed her with speculation. “Are you sure you're okay? Have any nightmares lately?”

“No,” she snapped, suddenly uncomfortable. “I was a kid the last time I had them. I'm fine.” She pushed to her feet and peeled her thin cotton shirt off without preamble. Bo stuttered and whipped around, showing her his back. “Now can I bathe?”

“Dammit, girl.” He growled at her, shaking his head. “You're more stubborn than your mother ever was.” Silence stretched between them, tense and thick, and he sighed. “You really are like her, you know. More and more every day.”

“Shut up, old man.” She mumbled, pushing past him and padding down the hall.

He closed his eyes as the bathroom door slammed shut. Shaking his head, he stepped out of the front door, reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes when an awareness slithered down his spine seconds before a bowed figure materialized in front of him, head lowered respectively. Bo sighed, crumbling the entire pack of cigarettes in his fist and allowing them to drop to the floor. “Tell him I'll be there in ten minutes.”

The head dipped lower, his response drifting to Bo's ears seconds after he disappeared from sight. “Understood.”

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The firelight illuminated the harsh lines around the three faces surrounding it. The servant woman stood by the entrance, her head bowed respectively as each one weighed in the information she had shared with them. Bo spoke first, slamming his fist on the table. “We have to tell her.”

Panic flashed on each face simultaneously. “Boris, that's foolish. She can kill us all if she loses control. Have your emotions for her overshadowed your judgment?” The woman next to him asked, her voice shaking a little.

Before Bo could respond, a voice cleared and claimed his attention. The white haired man, the chief of the small town, folded his hand on the table and stared somberly into the fire. “As these things go, it is only to be assumed that eventually she would grow into her legacy.” The man began. The woman made a small noise in her throat, but he ignored her. “If she was beginning to show a threat to the Gate, Boris would have told us immediately.”

Gazes clashed over the spitting fire, and Bo mashed his mouth into a hard line. The fourth and final man spoke up, his voice quiet over the tension filling the room. “Maybe we can utilize her,” He said slowly. He flinched when Bo glared at him. “What I mean to say is, we can use her to our own gain. Her blood is priceless. Harboring her here puts us all in danger anyway---“

“She is not an object, or a machine.” Bo said between his teeth. “She is human, and a little girl. We cannot simply---“

“A little girl she may be, but don't get ahead of yourself here, Boris.” The woman smiled nastily, dropping her cheek into one upraised hand. “Never forget that she's not human.”

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Small hands framed his face and smoothed his bangs back from his skin. A voice called out to him, making his head ache, and he groaned, pulling his face out of the strange hands.

They reached for him again, rubbing his cheeks gently, and he fought against the endless mist surrounding his thoughts. Something about that scent, something about the warmth of those hands beckoned him. The warmth radiated through his skin, the scent filling his lungs and layering on his tongue, and slowly his eyes opened. The salty scent of tears assailed him and harsh, frantic breathing rung in his ears before his vision cleared enough for him to make out the face peering at him. Milky white, soft skin. Huge blue eyes.

“Your alive,” she breathed, two fat tears dripping down her cheeks. She touched her forehead to his and breathed a ragged breath, trembling. “I thought they killed you.”

“What …” He groaned again. Talking … hurt. He tried to take a breath and hissed in pain. Different aches and pain sbegan to drift to him again, suddenly becoming one sharp blaze of torture that he felt from head to toe. “What are you doing here? What happened to you?”

She shrugged and he allowed his gaze to drift over her. She was dressed in an over large shirt that seemed to swallow her, and some matching pants, the feet dragging around her small frame. She took the bottom of the shirt and softly began to rub at the dirt and blood staining his face. “I . . . Just like last time. I can't remember anything.”

“Well what do you remember?”

“This time, I remember lying in my bed. I must have been dreaming,” She trailed off, sinking back and staring at him thoughtfully. “And next thing I knew, I opened my eyes and I was here.”

“But you remembered what happened last time we were together?”

She stared at him for confusion for a while and blanked out, her skin paling as her eyes widened. She snapped back, almost violently, her eyes widened with something akin to horror before using her shirt to dab gently, but insistently at his stomach. Her panic gave way to confusion, and she glanced at him, before flattening her palm on his now mostly clean skin, over where she watched the knife pierce him. The skin was tender, pink.

If she didn't know better, she would have mistaken it for a bruise. “But … He stabbed you.”

He didn't respond, just watched her closely.

“But you're already healed?” Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to figure it out. “How long has it been?”

“Three days.”

He waited for her to freak out, but instead her forehead wrinkled again. Again with that detached calmness. He felt anger flash through him again and he ground his teeth together as she leaned back and stared at his chest for a long moment. With each passing moment, his anger grew and grew until he was utterly livid. “Then why are you still so bloody? Why are all of your other wounds new?”

And just then, his patience snapped. “Are you stupid, or something?”

Hey! Don't call me stupid, stupid!

“I just told you my stab wound healed in three days! Three days!”

“I heard you,” she grumbled petulantly.

“Then why aren't you screaming and running away?” He finally yelled at her, his patience destroyed. “The other time too! You weren't afraid at all! Don't you have any idea what I am?”

“You're a boy, aren't you?” She asked him, looking at him askance now.

He stared at her in disbelief for a few seconds before he burst into laughter. Large guffaws that made his chest ache, but he just couldn't help it. After a while his laughter died down and he opened his eyes to see her watching him, a scowl dusting the corners of her mouth. “You really are stupid, you know.” He told her, still snickering.

“My name is Halo, not stupid.” She snapped, pushing to her feet.

“Esau.”

She blinked. “What?”

He looked up at her just as the moonlight filtered in from behind him, illuminating his bruised, bloody body with a lovers caress. She recognized they were in a cave now, and two chains were nailed into the cave walls, tied around his wrists and holding him up so that he sat weakly on his knees. His hair was bloodier than she remembered, definitely filthier. He was still shirtless, still covered and scratches, bruises and the like. His silver eyes narrowed into slits and she shivered as he smiled at her, the moonlight glinting off of his bloody teeth.

“I never told you my name. It's Esau.”

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A/N

Hello, and welcome to the world of Retla! Reviews, pointers, everything is welcome!

-Chrissandra