Miranda's Bane (closed for Soulweaver and I)

Miranda gazed out of the cramped carriage. Her eyes danced over the twisted branches. They were her only real comfort on this trip. She wondered how the nobles survived such journeys without anything to do. No matter how much she shifted around and adjusted, it never felt comfortable. Two ladies in waiting looked at her with unsettling grins. They'd spent hours attempting to make the awkward peasant girl look like a lady. Her dark locks had been braided and she wore the garb of nobility, but under it all she was still a miller's daughter. Just yesterday she'd been plotting to win Aiden over. For years she'd loved the blacksmith's son, and never told a soul. If she had, he might not have taken interest in another. There had been time before. They weren't engaged. If she showed him her love there was no way he could reject her. Father had always told her never to make promises that she couldn't keep, but she'd never taken him seriously when she was young. It was for this reason that the guards came to collect her. When she was five she met the boy that would be prince of Centre one day. They'd played as children do, while his father was in town having some armor repaired. Now she never quite remembered what was said that day, but it had made the boy never forget her.

The party had come with horses, a carriage, and a gilded chest heavy with riches. There was not much the girl could do. The arrangements had just made her family rich. Her dreams of a quiet life with her beloved Aiden were drowning in a cavernous pit of despair. The carriage hit a hard bump ever so often, making it clear that this was far from a dream. It was an absolute nightmare, but how could she be selfish when it made everyone so happy? Joy radiated from their faces. Their hopes and dreams were being lived through her. However, if someone else wanted to volunteer to be the prince's bride she'd gladly give them the position."Atleast the scenery is nice," she thought. Aiden's memory was still fresh in her mind. Soft golden hair, kind smiles, moments that made her head spin. He'd marry that awful Hazel now. Again the carriage bumped and rocked with a horrible screech. The small space felt like it was getting smaller by the minute as the women spoke about how wonderful Miranda's wedding would be. They rambled on and on about flowers and how romantic it all was. In truth this had all the romance of a stomach flu. If she felt even a fraction of their happiness, then maybe she could enjoy herself.

The trees seemed to have a personality all their own and it gave her some peace to know that Centre would be atleast a bit similar to Levina. Then the trees began to change on her. If that was even possible, and a chill moved up her spine. The joyous branches were becoming gnarled monstrous beasts as they moved farther into the woods. It had to be her imagination. The whole personality of the landscape was changing. Warmth disolved into a cold unheard of for this time of year. The forest was thick with ancient trees that glared down in judgment. Miranda gasped and looked away from the window. She was losing it. Had to be the stress. Wicked eyes waited and watched as they continued. They didn't belong there, she could feel it. Why didn't anyone else notice? Something primal within her screamed. The women smiled and laughed as the tension grew as thick as the trees outside. A loud shrieking echoed through the wood and the carriage stopped.

The guards and carriage drivers were trying to calm the horses as they were tossed about. The ladies stepped out of the carriage and made Mira stay behind. A very loud discussion began as the driver said something about a wrong turn. A loud screech rang out from the wood again. This time it rattled her to her very core. The driver tried to re-direct the horses, but they wouldn't stop panicking. Miranda instinctively huddled under the seat. It gave little to no cover, and she knew something was coming. On silent wings, something decended upon the driver with an agonizing scream. Three horses broke free from the carriage and the other ran trailing the carriage behind until it caught on a tree and her world went black. Somewhere in the dark she heard monstrous roars and blood curdling cries of agony, but she couldn't escape. Voracious appetites were being sated as they devoured their spoils. Beasts came and left to pick at what remained before Mira finally rose from the wreckage. No one had come to help her when the carriage had crashed. She moved the wooden boards apart and slowly began to pull herself out. Her head ached and she had more bruises than she remembered. Her eyes shifted onto the state of her party and then away with her hand firmly clasped against her mouth. She would have been sick but her stomach was empty. Slowly she walked forward through the scene.

Her body wouldn't stop trembling. They weren't people anymore, only ripped rotting flesh and scattered limbs. Swords lay strewn about the ground and a few daggers. She grasped a dagger that wasn't covered in blood and held it close. The whole wood was disturbingly silent as she crept into the trees. As much as she feared what was inside, the road made her more visable and an easy target. What else could she do? There was no telling which way they'd come into the forest and there was not a single creature to be seen. Mud soon coated her shoes and her dress as she wandered deeper and deeper into the trees. She tried going back the way she came, but it was almost like the trees had decided to change again. It was becoming clear that she wouldn't escape. She'd heard tales of this place, but she never knew it actually existed. The forests outside Demegora were infested with every kind of horrible thing imaginable. After the war the old empire had been cursed and no longer ventured out to take care of their monster problem. A branch snap rang out through the wood and she held her breath. The feeling from before was back and hot breath billowed against her. She lurched forward and glanced at her certain death with the dagger shaking in her hands. In a moment of panic she slashed the beast across the face and began to run. It was the biggest wolf she'd ever seen and it was quickly gaining on her.

Jaren peered through the gloom. Below him the party had stopped and the escort was conferring in increasingly heated tones. The gilded carriage was what really caught his interest though. Most who lost their way and stumbled into the black forest were small groups of travelers or traders. He couldn’t remember ever seeing moneyed gentry before. And they usually could afford better guides, certainly ones smart enough to know where they shouldn’t venture.

The result would be the same though, unless they got turned around and out, immediately. “Unlikely,” he whispered to himself, as the mounted troops began milling around bickering. It was clear there was no real leadership down there.

“Who was in that carriage,” he mused. The scene was an interesting mix of obvious wealth and yet the quality of the guards echoed a real lack of concern for whoever was inside.

Shivering, Jaren pulled his cloak closer. The air had changed. The forest was dank enough normally, but now it grew even colder. His nostrils flared as a cloying rank smell assailed them. Something was coming, and bringing with it death.

The horses recognised it before the riders. Their eyes rolling back and hooves skittishly pawing at the sodden ground. The door swung open and two young women stepped out amid the growing commotion. He could see them pleading with the drivers, obviously trying to find out what was happening. He guessed they weren’t the main occupants though. He’d spent long enough in the court of his family to recognise courtesan-attendants when he saw them. For a second, his long suppressed instincts fought his desire to stay hidden, and safe.



His indecision almost cost him his life. He barely managed to throw himself flat as razor talons clutched at his shoulder, slashing his heavy cloak. He instinctively thrust up his short sword as he dropped, its edge drawing a spray of inky green ichor from the creature. It hissed out a baying laugh and its red eyes burned into him as it looped away, up into the black forest canopy. “Damn,” Jaren cussed at himself. He knew that the attack wasn’t serious or he’d be butchered by now. He coexisted under an uneasy truce with them, neither willing to step over an unwritten boundary. Not that he hadn’t killed a few when he needed to. But neither side actively hunted the other, and that was just fine with him.

The first strident scream from below broke through his funk. Black winged creatures swirled and rent huge chunks and giblets of flesh being torn with each strike. All fell, soldiers, drivers and the women alike, the creatures only intent on killing. As he watched, one of the attendants tried to break for the supposed safety of the dense wood to the side of the track. A creature slashed and she fell, one arm a shattered stump. She crawled, her mouth open but gasping, mouthing a silent scream as her mind went. The creature stalked her, planting one taloned claw onto her back and pushing her down into the mud. She wriggled as it causally torn at her clothes, exposing soft womanly flesh. It inclined its head, and locked its eyes onto Jaren high above in the trees. It was the one he’d slashed at in defense. Without looking down, it sliced, casually dipping its razor sharp claws into her back, through muscle and bone and grasped, pulling out her still heaving lungs.

Jaren had seen enough. But he’d marked that creature, just as surely it had marked him. One of them must die. Silently he began dropping from branch to branch, swiftly working his way down the giant gnarled tree. Just then there was an uproar of cackling and shrieking. As one the creatures rose, leathery wings straining for lift as the now bloated creatures took to the air. The wounded one look back, it wasn’t over between them yet.




Briefly he considered searching for survivors, but he realised there would be none. He was about to melt away when there was a snapping of breaking twigs and undergrowth. He watched incredulous as a young girl ran dodging wildly between the trees to his right, a huge grey dire wolf crashing after her. A survivor. Sheathing his dagger, he drew his long sword and gave chase.

In front, the girls dress snagged and she was spun around, crashing into a large stump. She sagged, obviously winded. The wolf slowed, letting out a long deep growl of satisfaction. It padded forward savoring the fear washing off the panting girl. Jaren paced himself, maintaining practiced silence as stalked the animal. It was now inches from her, its hot breath billowing in frosty clouds as it drank in her scent.

With a silent swish, Jarens sword fell in a glittering arc. An arterial spray of hot blood slashed across the girls face and spattered her dress with a dark red patina. The beasts eyes widened and then slowly its head separated from its body, both falling to the ground in a twitching bloody pile.

He stood and regarded the girl. She stared at him while trying to wipe the gore from her face. She was panting, scared but recovering quickly. He looked her up and down, appraising, raising an eyebrow when she placed her hands on her hips and stared back at him defiantly. She was beautiful, very, but she was no noble. Her skin was radiant, lacking the both the pallor and excessive makeup that usually marked the high-born.

He reached a silent decision. He drew his short sword, throwing it onto the ground at her feet. “Here, take this, you’ll need it.” With that he turned, carefully cleaning the edge of his sword on his cloak and strode off . . .



.

Her lungs burned in the cold air from running. There it was, her limit. So focused was she on her death, that she didn't hear the man come. The dress she wore was caught on a tree and there wasn't enough space between them for her to run again. In a flash the creature's head lay on the ground. A fine coat of blood now covered her fine dress and face. She began wiping it off in disgust. The man stared at her and she back at him. There was something different about him. It was hard to tell from where she stood. He was not an Elf. They knew better than to cross into this territory. Maybe they should have known better as well. As much as she was thankful she was fearful. He could do whatever he chose to right now. If he were the type to prey on defenseless girls, she was an easy target. Her warm breath kissed the air as she continued to pant. What would happen a few days from now, when the carriage did not arrive? Would they take her family's wealth away? Maybe the man could lead her out of there. He threw a sword at her feet.

“Here, take this, you’ll need it.”

With that he turned and began walking away. She picked up the blade and stared at the man again There was enough that had been taken from her today. She'd lost her freedom, her happiness, her love, and now her life was walking away with that man. It was not about to get away that easily.

"Wait.." she called out.

He kept walking and she began walking behind him.

"Sir I don't know your name, but I want to thank you. It's wonderful what you've done for me, but you see there's this problem. I don't know my way out of here. If I don't get out, I'll surely die."

Her eyes fixed on his cloak as he walked. It had been slashed clear through by something. The man walked as though uninterested. Her pleas might've been falling on deaf ears.

"Please listen to me. I don't have much, but I can pay you."

She removed the necklace she wore around her neck. It was yet another token of the prince's affections and she gave it freely.

"If it's not enough, take me to Centre and I'm certain you will be rewarded. I'm going to be their queen one day you see. So I think they'll miss me."

Her voice was shaky and uncertain. The words fell off her tongue without feeling. She wanted to go back to Levina, but if staying alive meant going to Centre, there was no way around it. Finally the man stopped and looked at her. Maybe he would accept her proposal.

.

As he strode away, Jaren realized that the girl had caught him up, half skipping, half stumbling to keep up with him as she tried to watch her step and talk at the same time. “Babble hysterically more like,” he thought to himself. He was just about to tell her to shut up when she started taking off bits of jewelry and thrusting them out at him. Fearing her clothes would be next, Jaren stopped. She ran into the back of him and for a moment they tangled, arms entwining and then batting each other away, both trying to regain some sort of composure. He hadn’t heard all of what she’d prattled on about, but he did hear the word “Pay.”

She stood staring up at him with a look of expectant relief. Jaren was almost sorry to ruin it. “Listen Miss whatever your name is,” he struggled to keep the disdain and more than a little humor our of his voice. “I don’t know if you realized what just happened here. It’s probably shock, which is OK, it’s to be expected really. But,” his tone deepened, “just what use do you think money is going to be to either of us out . . . out here,” he waived his arm around the cold dark expanse.

He was getting worked up now, annoyed at the senseless waste of human life he’d just witnessed, annoyed that he had allowed himself to almost be caught unawares by those damn Harpies, annoyed that his quiet balanced existence was being rudely interrupted and finally annoyed at her for making him annoyed. He hated being annoyed.

“God, but she is beautiful.” He almost cupped himself on the forehead. He’d been out here so long that his internal monologues were beginning to haunt his days with inane and inappropriate thoughts.

He noticed she was just standing there, with a slightly amused grin on her face. “How much of that had she seen?” he groaned inwardly. Time to get things back under control.

“Look. Miss . . . you don’t need to know my name . . . because we’re not going to be travel partners. I move alone out here, it’s the way it has to be. I’m certainly not going to Center,’ he shivered. He could just imagine how well his kind would be received there. At the thought of it his wings began to move, rippling under his skin. He fought to hold them inside, The last thing he wanted to do was panic her into thinking he was like one of the creatures.

He had to blurt something out, she was beginning to grin openly at him. “I will help you, a little though. I can give you directions to the forest edge, and some free advice, don’t get seen. . . “



.

This time she was close enough to see his features. Long dark hair, piercing eyes, and a face that didn't appear prone to smiling. A member of the fair folk he wasn't, but as far as looks went he could have been. Perhaps all hope wasn't lost.

“Listen Miss whatever your name is.”

“I don’t know if you realized what just happened here. It’s probably shock, which is OK, it’s to be expected really. But,”

“just what use do you think money is going to be to either of us out . . . out here?”

Her heart sank. Never had it crossed her mind that this man wasn't the type to live in a village or pass through one occasionally. Already she was in over her head in unfamiliar territory. Now it was apparent that her only hope was with a man lacking general sympathy for her situation. Just how many people like her had come through here and perished like her group? He acted as though it were nothing to be alarmed over. His face contorted in what looked like frustration, then anger, a surprising look of contentment, and then anger again. Was he some kind of lunatic? He took himself way too seriously and in that moment she found humor for the first time since she'd started this trip. The faces he was making were hilarious.

“Look. Miss . . . you don’t need to know my name . . . because we’re not going to be travel partners. I move alone out here, it’s the way it has to be. I’m certainly not going to Center."

Things were becoming clear. He didn't seem accustomed to having company and he was against going to large cities. Perhaps he was one of those hermits she'd heard about, though he hardly fit the description. Hermits were supposed to be ugly old men with long beards that lived half naked in caves. He sure acted like an old man, though he couldn't have been much older than she was. Even great warriors knew better than to travel alone in woods like these, so why did he? The very act of seeing another person after losing her way was a relief. Even if he left her behind, it was nice knowing that she wouldn't die entirely alone. There was really not much to lose on her end anyway. She could either die in the woods or spend her life trying to be something she wasn't in the royal court. Death in the woods was probably better. It was so weird to her how she could smile with such morbid thoughts running through her head.

“I will help you, a little though. I can give you directions to the forest edge, and some free advice, don’t get seen. . . “

She tried to keep a smile. He was atleast showing her a bit of mercy.

"Well it's very nice to meet you sir. My name's Miranda, but my friends call me Mira."

He immediately begin making those odd faces again and she couldn't help laughing.

"You're very kind to give me directions. It's such a shame you won't be joining me, villages can be quite useful you know. There's people, supplies, cloaks without holes in them."

He definately didn't seem happy about what she said.

"You know if you keep making faces like that you might save me some trouble and scare all the beasts away."

.


“…. Cloaks without holes in them.”

Jarens face contorted as his inner voice made a lewd suggestion. He ignored it, but the little corners of her mouth turned up into a broad grin and betrayed how closely she was watching him. When she actually commented on his faces scaring the beasts away, even he had to laugh. He was surprised at how good it felt. Even a chuckle was something he hadn’t allowed himself for so long.

Jaren sighed. He knew what his inner voice was going to say and he half held up his hand to shut it up. “Gods woman … Miranda,” he corrected, making a mock half bow. “OK then, maybe, just maybe you can tag along for a bit. And just maybe I might go out of my way to steer us closer to the edge of forest. But . . . “ and he held up his hand to stifle her protests, “you have to promise me a few things first.”

His voice went serious. “You need to keep much quieter. Those winged creatures are only a part of what kills in this place, and not the worst.”

“You need to stop when I stop and stay put if I tell you to. And no girlie screams if you see a snake . . .” he paused for effect. "Unless it’s a really, really, really big one."

Her eyes went saucer like and her fists balled up. He wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or hit him. He didn’t like not knowing. That would be something he would have to work on. His inner voice made a comment about working on something else with her and he hissed in frustration. This was going to be a long trip he thought. He wondered if he should just push her to the ground and get on with it, would his internal minder stop then? “Gah ….” That wasn’t his way, despite how long it had been since he’d had a real woman, and especially one with her, looks.

“You can put the jewels back on also, I neither need, nor want them.”

Jaren looked up. Barely visible through the thick canopy, patches of rapidly darkening sky could be seen. Night came hard and fast here, and more than a few of the forests creatures had adapted to hunt perfectly under its inky blanket.

He kicked nervously at the wet ground with the toe of his boot. He didn’t like standing around. Move or rest. Go somewhere or conserve energy. This dallying was for old women or the dead. “Look, we have to get moving soon. We need to put some distance between us and your,” he searched for the right words, finding none he continued, “friends.”

His internal voice yawned, bored. Jaren never spoke more than a few whispers, and mostly to him. Now, here he was practically talking the sweet girls panties off. It must be love he sighed.

Jaren cussed, “Frack!” Miranda almost jumped out of her dress in surprise.

Again he was forced to speak, this was getting tiresome. “Miranda … Mira. Do you have anything skills that might help? Can you cook, hunt?” Jaren fidgeted uncomfortably. This damn woman had all his senses working backwards.


.

He was such a strange person, nothing like the people in her village. People there liked to make sense. People like Aiden. This man was nothing like him at all, but at least he made her smile. That was more than even she had expected. With all her luck she could have found a blood thirsty cannibal, but instead she found him. He was weird, but gracious and who was she to complain? Her joke from before seemed to make even him smile.

“Gods woman … Miranda,”
“OK then, maybe, just maybe you can tag along for a bit. And just maybe I might go out of my way to steer us closer to the edge of forest. But . . . “

She was about to thank him again, but he motioned her to be silent. His voice became deathly serious and she hung on his every word.

“You need to keep much quieter. Those winged creatures are only a part of what kills in this place, and not the worst.”

“You need to stop when I stop and stay put if I tell you to. And no girlie screams if you see a snake . . .”

"Unless it’s a really, really, really big one."

What was she three? She hadn't screamed when the wolf chased her, and it would have ripped her to shreds. It was then she remembered what she was wearing. He had no idea that she lived in the country, so how was he to know? Made her almost proud in a way that she could pass as one of those useless prissy nobles. Immediately she regretted that thought. "He must think me useless." She turned that over in her mind and the thought made her angry, She'd show him what she was made of.

“You can put the jewels back on also, I neither need, nor want them.”

She began securing the jewelry back to it's rightful places. It was something she didn't want either. Just wearing it felt like a burden. Certainly it was pretty, but it was a symbol of the role she'd been forced to accept. The prince was out there somewhere waiting for her and pleasantly unaware of what happened. Probably off somewhere making plans and dreaming of their wedding night. He was probably handsome if the stories were true, but she'd promised herself that it would be the fair haired black smith's son that she'd give herself to. Anyone else would be unacceptable.

“Look, we have to get moving soon. We need to put some distance between us and your,”
"friends.”

What had she been doing letting her mind drift off while they were in a death trap? Maybe he did have reason to be upset with her. No, from now on was going to pull her weight and make things easier on him.

“Frack!”

He nearly gave her a heart attack. She wanted to whack him for that one, but she held herself back. Doing something that crazy could get them both killed.

“Miranda … Mira. Do you have any skills that might help? Can you cook, hunt?”

She sighed and looked over to him. Her voice became an angry whisper.

"Yes I can cook and though I have not practiced the art, I'm certain that if hungry enough I will be able to hunt. Also try not to curse so loudly if you want me not to scream."

They began moving again at a quickened pace. Already she was despising the shoes she'd been made to wear. He atleast had boots. Already she could see what he was upset about. Night was only hours away, what sort of plan did he have for that? Her senses heightened as they traveled through the wood. She listened to every branch crack and rustle of the trees. Any sudden movement might mean the difference between life and death.

"If you want I could mend that cloak for you." She said it so softly that she wondered if he heard it at all.

Far off in the distance there was a loud roar. It wasn't close from the sound of it. Probably many miles away. Still the very thought of the sort of creature that made such a sound made her shudder. Again the sound echoed through the trees and without thinking she clung to his arm. When it stopped she let go of him seeming more than embarrassed. She would have apologized, but she knew better than to speak at a time like this. He would probably make a rule against clinging to him like that. It was not like she planned such things. Maybe if she told her instincts to shut up, she could stop acting like a coward. Oh what he must think of her. The way she'd held on so tightly. He had to think her some stupid love crazed girl. Was she? Such thoughts were driving her mad, but still he said nothing.

Jaren nodded at her, then turned and walking at a measured pace, headed east. East wasn’t the shortest way out of here, but they needed to skirt a large bog, more from the denizens it contained than any fear of drowning. Plus, with luck, they might just manage to get to a place he’d used as a night refuge in this area some time ago, before full night settled.

He had to admit she was game. Her dainty shoes must have been hell to walk in. She didn’t complain but seemed to work all the harder to make sure she wasn’t slowing them down. He heard her soft offer to mend his cloak and almost stumbled. He wasn’t sure why but that filled him with a sense of loss. Things he’d missed while having to scratch out an existence caught between two worlds. Worlds, neither of which would ever fully accept him for who, or what he was. Instead he pressed on, refusing to acknowledge her offer, stubborn pride keeping him quiet. For once his inner muse had nothing to say either.

Night was close now. Far off in the distance a Bog Hellion bellowed. It wasn’t close, but he was thankful all the same that he’d decided to avoid the bog at night. He might have been able to evade it himself and still traverse the heavy water logged peat, but not with the girl. Another cry, a little closer this time, its bellowing roar powerful enough to reverberate off the trees, surrounding them with its hunger. For the first time she’d clutched at him, her small hand gripping him tightly with a strength far greater than he’d given her lithe frame credit for. Without thinking he slipped his hand back to steady hers, but as quickly as she’d grabbed him, her hand was gone. Not for the first time he wished she’d kept it there, her touch warming the human part of him, the part he’d long suppressed.

Finally he stopped and looked up. Her eyes followed his, up and up. She looked incredulous. He laughed softly, “Yes, now we have to climb. Trust me, this is the safest place to sleep.” He gripped the massive tree trunk in front of them, searching for handholds. She didn’t move. He leaned back and held out his hand. “C’mon. We’ll take it slow and I’ll look after you. We need to get up to that crook, about 100 spans or so, to be safe enough to sleep.”

Tentatively she took his hand. Her grip was soft and strong, her hands warm and dry. No sign of the tension she must be feeling he thought. He let her pass him, pointing out hand and toe holds. At first she had tried to climb as she was, but soon, with a shrug, she'd hiked her dress up higher, fastening it so that her legs were free to move. Jaren had blushed at the sight of her creamy flesh, quickly turning away so she couldn’t see his reaction. Soon though, the effort of the climb allowed him to relax, his concentration better occupied with getting them up higher and safe.

It was fully dark now but parts of the massive trunk were illuminated in a soft green glow, given off by the moss inhabiting its ancient nooks and crannies. The extra effort of looking after her, the fear she could slip and fall at any time was taking its toll though. He was sweating hard by the time they finally made the fork he’d intended to use for the night and not paying proper attention to her. As she swung over the last branch, he saw her freeze and look down. Her face, flushed pink from the climb turned turn pale and she wavered. Her foot slipped as her mind connected to just how high they were. Jaren barely had time to launch himself up at her, crashing into her, carrying them both up and over into the safety of the crook, both falling together in a tangled heap of silken dress and underclothes.

Jarens alter ego kicked in with a snicker, “Nice move!” He was terrified to move however, unsure how to detangle himself without grabbing something he shouldn’t . . .


.

Where were they sleeping tonight? It was all she could think about. There couldn't have been a single area that was safe from attack. Did he have kind of weird hermit cave? She shivered. Most caves she'd ever heard of were infested with goblins. Then again with him she couldn't be sure that he wasn't capable of clearing a cave. There was alot about this guy that didn't add up. What was he doing in a place like this? Why didn't he have a home? It seemed to be more than she'd ever have answers to. After traveling a bit more, they stopped to rest at a large tree.

Yes, now we have to climb. Trust me, this is the safest place to sleep.”

Now she knew he was absolutely crazy. She hadn't climbed a tree in years, and she certainly had never slept in one. For a moment she considered the alternative. With the thought of that creature they'd heard before she was ready to scale it's massive branches. Atleast she believed she was. He began his climb and extended a hand to her.

“C’mon. We’ll take it slow and I’ll look after you. We need to get up to that crook, about 100 spans or so, to be safe enough to sleep.”

That was easy for him to say. She wasn't a socially challenged forest hermit. Slowly she began climbing after him. The trunk was more treacherous than it had previously appeared and none of what she was wearing was making the climb easier. After toughing it out for awhile she made the snap decision to tuck the front of the dress into her sash. What did it matter at this point? Modesty would get her killed out here. Somehow the climb allowed her mind to wander again. Miles away her family would sleep well tonight believing that their little girl would be a princess. In truth tree dweller was more like it. Higher and higher they climbed. It was becoming far easier now that her dress was out of the way. Finally their goal was in sight and she swung onto the final branch pausing to look at her work. She gasped sharply. Certainly she knew they were high up, but never had it occured to her just how bad it was. She knew she had to move, but her body wouldn't co-operate. Her footing was slipping and before she'd had time to struggle, he'd caught her in a tangle of limbs and clothing. Her face was flushed from the way he held her. She took back everything she'd been thinking about him, he did care. It hadn't even occured to her how close they were until she felt a bit of his hair brush against her face.

“Nice move!” he said with a bit of a laugh.

Slowly she grasped his shoulder and began to get herself free.She fixed the dress and made sure all was as it should be, before allowing herself to relax.

"Sorry about that back there. I guess my legs were a bit tired. Thank you again. For saving me." Her face was still red.

Why did it matter that he'd been so close to her? He'd felt so warm and he had been right about one thing. The branches provided more than adequate cover and there was more than enough room to sleep. In that moment something else occured to her. "Damn," she thought. She doubted he had blankets with him and this meant the unthinkable, but she'd do what had to be done.

"You still never told me your name you know." she whispered.

There was no way she was about to huddle for warmth with a stranger. He atleast owed her a first name.

"I guess I have to wonder how often you bring strange women into trees with you. I would rather like to know if anything impure has taken place where I'm sitting. Well aside from bird droppings."

.

Jaren sat up. A stupid, half blush across his young, but tired face. Dammit, he hadn’t blushed since his first time in the cages of the under castle. He sat back exhausted, letting his mind stray back, while she fussed around fixing her tresses and complaining.

It was to be his rite of passage, having just turned old enough to hunt. Old enough to hunt and kill also meant old enough to bed, and in this case it was expected that he pleased as many females as he could, before allowing himself his own release. The more females he could drive to orgasm before himself, the greater warrior and husband he would become. Or so the legends were woven. Of course, being a half breed, the women prepared for him were a mix of both the Dark, and Human. All were slaves however and prepared in a similar way, naked, tied splayed and with ancients salves rubbed into their sex to enhance their release. The ritual certainly wasn’t a mutual passage of discovery.

There were plenty in the court who had argued against even allowing him to undertake the rite of passage, for it would seal his legitimacy in the court and to the throne. Finally his father had shown a glimpse of, something, compassion maybe?, towards his bastard son, and decreed it was to be done. He was prepared as males always were, with mortal combat against strange and wonderous beasts, in the courts amphitheatre. And then induced into a blood lust filled ardour, with unguents and seductive narcotics.

He could barley remember it. Except, the most horrifying parts still haunted his dreams. For at the point of orgasm, a jewelled blade was used to slice the throats of the bound girls. Their dying struggles intended to further test his ability to control his own end. But the drugs were strong and he barely perceived them as their movements shook and stopped. Until one face penetrated his clouded mind. Kalista. His only childhood friend and a slave girl in waiting to the court high born. He remembered her eyes. How they never left his. And how, as her life was taken, she had silently mouthed her forgiveness of him.

He shuddered, long and deep. Words rattled him back to his surroundings and he looked at her. Name. She was looking at him, kneeling in front of him, shivering and asking his name.

"I guess I have to wonder how often you bring strange women into trees with you. I would rather like to know if anything impure has taken place where I'm sitting. Well aside from bird droppings."

Despite his brooding thoughts he grinned at her. “Jaren. At least, that’s the pronounceable part.”

“As for strange women and trees, well, you’ll be my first, in this tree anyway.” His monologue snickered instantly in his ear, “Have her we will?” a half tease and half challenge. Jaren hadn’t meant it the way it had sounded. He shook his head slightly, “Not tonight damn you, not tonight,” vainly hoping his inner voice would go away. For good.

She gazed at him intently and he stared back dumbly. Finally he realised she was waiting, waiting for him to offer warmth. Reluctantly, but because he realised they both could use the shared heat, he held out his hand. “Miranda, please? I promise to behave, no impure actions and definitely no bird droppings.” Pulling her to him, sitting in front of him, he wrapped her in his arms, then with a flourish, encircled them both with his cloak.

As a comforting warmth seeped through them both he whispered, “Sleep Miranda, I think it’s been quite a day. Maybe tomorrow you can tell me what you were doing lost out here, and where you really want to go.”

Sometime later he awoke, gently moving the deep sleeping girl, removing and covering her with his cloak. He slipped down the tree and back through the dark, now almost silent forest. He found their remains and searched, looking for just the right size.

He sat on the edge of the crook, his legs dangling idly over the edge, as the first dim rays of the new day filtered down through the vast forest canopy. He sat cleaning something, hoping to get the present ready and in front of her before she woke up. Gifts, even practical ones weren’t in his nature and made him nervous . . .



.

Maybe she hadn't really let it register, but the more she looked at him the more she knew that he couldn't be human. Maybe he'd had drow in him or something similar. She couldn't be certain. Not many elves came through Levina and even less drow. There was something else he could be, but she didn't want to let such things enter her mind. Legend told of the western empire that had fallen to the wrath of the gods. They had been powerful in a way that the world had never seen. Stories told of the black prince's fall. He's conquered one land after another, taken a queen, and planned to unite the nation under his command. The god's struck a blow from which they could never recover. Because they acted like beasts they would become more beastlike, and because they profaned the world with their conquests, they would never walk beneath the glorious sun again. If it were true, somewhere beyond those trees their empire lived in the dank darkness. She was being foolish now. It was ridiculous to believe in such things.

“Jaren. At least, that’s the pronounceable part.”

The pronoucable part? Maybe he was an elf hybrid.

“As for strange women and trees, well, you’ll be my first, in this tree anyway.”

Her mouth hung open. She assumed he hadn't intended it to sound the way it did, but for a brief moment the thought crossed her mind. "No, there is absolutely no way I am becoming involved with a tree dwelling hermit. Even if he is rather attractive." Why was it so weird to admit to herself? As the darkness crept in it was harder and harder to stop shivering. Eventually he motioned for her to do what she'd been dreading. Never had she allowed any man to get as close to her as he had. As much as she was against this sort of thing, he made it difficult to resist when he smiled like that.

“Miranda, please? I promise to behave, no impure actions and definitely no bird droppings.” Pulling her to him, sitting in front of him, he wrapped her in his arms, then with a flourish, encircled them both with his cloak.

She soon lay beside him. Her face was hot again, but she'd never let him see. He took her in his arms and draped the cloak over them both. His body was so warm. His embrace made her feel safer than she had in quite a long time. It was strong but gentle. He felt so wonderful, and it drove her mad. These feelings, they weren't supposed to come from him. However she was tired and soon the panic began to fade.

“Sleep Miranda, I think it’s been quite a day. Maybe tomorrow you can tell me what you were doing lost out here, and where you really want to go.”

She smiled as sleep took her. Perhaps her luck was changing after all. That night she dreamt of gentle caresses followed by passionate love making. She never saw the man's face, but the two of them dropped off of a cloud and fell to their deaths. Jaren was not beside her when she woke. Already she missed him being there more than she wanted to admit. She shifted beneath the cloak to find that she become aroused from the dream last night. It wasn't the first time she'd had such dreams and the result was always embarrasing. It was fine, he need never know such a thing had happened while he held her. She then noticed him sitting to the far edge of the space.

"Good morning Jaren. I trust you slept well."

.

He wasn’t expecting her up so early and startled, he tried to cover what he was holding. Realising how stupid that must look he turned with a resigned sigh.

“Here, I thought you might like these?” He held in his hands a pair of women’s shoes, flatter and far more practical than the court shoes she had been struggling to walk in yesterday. He had been sitting there scrubbing the blood off them and had done a pretty good job considering. “I know its not much . . . " his voice trailed off.

His nose twitched. He could . . . smell something. A deep memory unfurled and tasted . . . arousal. He could smell her arousal. She was clutching his coat tightly as if that would help. She obviously had no idea he could pick up things, trace scents. A deeply imprinted racial trait in all his kind. It helped them hunt. And mate. She wasn’t giving off a trace though, she was awash with it. He stirred, a completely involuntary reaction to the heady mix of pheromones filling the space between them. He shifted uncomfortably, hoping she wouldn’t notice. A building heat danced up and down his spine, his wings began rippling under his skin, preparing to extend. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. He was barely under control. If he allowed it, they would snap open in a brilliant shimmering blaze of colour, designed to dazzle and glamor his mate. He counted backwards, “10 . . . 9 . . . 8 . . . 7 . . .”

“Ahh, excuse me,” she exclaimed, “Are you alright?”

The concern in her voice helped. But before he could fully calm himself, his hands shot out, taking a delicate foot in his powerful hands. Completely divorced from himself he heard his voice softly soothing, “Mira, let me help you with these.”

Before she could react he had removed her court shoe and was softly caressing the inside of the sole of her foot. His fingers traced over her soft skin, from her heel, up the side, taking and massaging her toes with his strong, lean fingers.

He sat, out of control, on a knife edge. Things could go either way from here, but he could do nothing else. He couldn’t pull away on his own, but also had just enough awareness to prevent the lust from fully taking him. What happened next, was totally dependant on the next few moments . . .


.

What was he up to now? He was hiding something. There was something different about him, this Jaren. When they'd first spoken he'd been so harsh. Now every other moment he was so kind. She'd wanted to wake in his arms that morning, and while she wasn't quite sure of what it meant,but she hoped it would happen tomorrow.

“Here, I thought you might like these?”

“I know its not much . . . "

She smiled. He must've been paying attention earlier when she was having trouble because he had an old pair of women's shoes in his hands.Even more so they appeared to be close enough to her size. No one had ever paid this much attention to her before. Not even her own mother knew when she needed new shoes. A look of horror crossed him for a brief moment. He was probably not as good at hiding his feelings as he thought. It almost seemed like he was becoming ill. Perhaps he hadn't been warm enough the night before and caught something.

"Excuse me, are you alright?"

He was starting to worry him. There was no telling what sort of strange ailments one might pick up out here. The last thing she wanted was for something bad to happen to him.

“Mira, let me help you with these.”

There was that feeling again. Why was it here now? The feeling that she could be prey. Though it was not nearly as powerful as it had been before. He removed her shoe before she could even answer and it made her a bit uneasy. He began caressing the bottom of her foot putting her on edge. It tickled at first, but there was something about the way he touched her. She could see it now. A hand grazing past her ankle and up her thigh. Soft and delicate. Hot and satisfying. She mentally slapped herself. No, it was time to get this under control.

"Stop that tickles. Thank you for the gift. You don't know how much I appreciate the gesture. However I think I can handle this."

With that she gently slipped from his touch and slid the shoes on. There was a little extra room, but not enough to be uncomfortable. They would suit her just fine. He seemed to be doing a bit better now. It gave her some relief to know that he'd be alright.

"These are wonderful. You really out did yourself. I'm just wondering if you're feeling okay."

She placed the back of her hand against his forehead and then the front. Nothing out of the ordinary. Some illness didn't come with fever though.

"Well there's no sign of fever so I guess it's alright to thank you properly."

She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead where she'd touched. She would have hugged him, but she had no idea if he was the hugging type. Some people found that sort of thing rude.

"You know it's sort of weird, meeting you out here. I kind of wonder why you would wander around in a place like this."

He seemed ill again.

"Jaren...Jaren what's going on?"

Jaren closed his eyes. He couldn’t let the animal take over, he couldn’t show her yet, expose what he was, not fully anyway. And, despite the ache inside him, for companionship, for love, he wasn’t prepared to sink to the depths of those he despised and take advantage of her.

Then, when he wasn't expecting them, her words . . . he couldn’t quite hear them, but they put him off guard, so when she touched him, it was like an electric jolt. Her fingers, her lips, he could . . . feel her thoughts behind them. Not strong enough for her to openly succumb to them, but they were there. Whispers of tenderness, a connection she didn’t even realise. Was she the one he thought? This was crazy. He’d just met her, they didn’t know each other, he was a creature, a half man, half thing. And he didn’t even know what she was yet, an enigma to be sure. Self assured and brash sometimes, awkward and needing at others. She wasn’t gentry, what was she?

"Jaren...Jaren what's going on?"

Jaren opened his eyes. He was shivering slightly with the effort. His wings burned inside, longing to open, rampant. He had to move, to talk, to break her spell over his senses. He considered their options.

“I’m . . . OK.” She fixed him with a look. Already he knew her mind well enough to know what that look meant. A mixture of disbelief and uncertainty.

“I will be then, is that better?” He continued, “I get like this sometimes, ill . . . well not really ill, but it’s a form of sickness. It’ll pass.” She seemed to be regarding him with open humour. Could she see? Did she know how aroused he was? He was sure she couldn’t his straining erection, aching with the need to mate, well, not unless he moved anyway.

“Miranda, I will be OK, just give me a minute, please?” He let out a slow wet shudder as he tried to clear his mind.

Finally, “Look, you might as well relax for a while. The safest time to travel is noon,” he waved his hand round at the forest canopy and ground below, “after everything has eaten.”

“How about you tell me how you got into this mess? If you excuse me, you don’t seem like most of the gentry I was familiar with . . .“



.

Whatever had been afflicting seemed to ease. It was almost like he had been fighting himself. What was he fighting?

“I’m . . . OK.”

She wasn't so sure. It was odd how someone like him could seem so strong and so vulnerable. He wasn't used to having anyone help him. Everyone needed help sometimes. Just how many times had he needed another person without them being there.

“I will be then, is that better?”

Were these sort of attacks normal for him? It seemed that the closer she became to knowing him, the stranger he became. How was that even possible? She continued staring at him.

“Miranda, I will be OK, just give me a minute, please?”

“Look, you might as well relax for a while. The safest time to travel is noon,”

“after everything has eaten.”

She gringed thinking about the creatures becoming breakfast at this very moment.

“How about you tell me how you got into this mess? If you excuse me, you don’t seem like most of the gentry I was familiar with . . .“

Her smile faded. It was replaced by forced grin and look of embarrassment.

"Well it's kind of a long story. I'm from a small village several leagues south of here called Levina. Not many pass through aside from travellers and the choice few that know about our blacksmith. They say he's one of the best outside of Centre and some prefer him over others. It's a well-kept secret. My father runs the mill and is quite popular in town. Since as far back as I remember I've been best friends with Aiden. His father is the blacksmith I mentioned. Anyway we were playing knights one day in front of his father's shop. I was about five I think. A man had this very large expensive job and he had a boy with him. He was this scrawny whining thing with Red hair and freckles everywhere. When you're young you don't care as much about those things you just want to play."

She sighed heavily.

"I wish I knew it was supposed to be important. Because all I remember is that we were playing knights and Aiden suggested I pretend to be a princess. Even though I think I made a better knight, I agreed. When we were done I remember the kid giving me this big dopey grin. I never saw him after that, but apparently his father's brother was the king of Centre that passed without an heir. His father ascended the throne and I was quite surprised that the prince thought of me when he needed a bride. The nerve of him."

She thought of her home and wondered if Aiden would miss her. Had he and Hazel been together yet? The thought of it made her stomach churn. He had to know after all this time how much she loved him and still he began seeing her.

"Imagine my surprise when white horses and a carriage showed up at my door during my morning chores. I had no interest in becoming royalty. Is it so odd to just want something simple? They made the arrangements with my parents, gave them a huge dowry and put me on the carriage to meet with him. The drivers must not have been very experienced with the roads so we must've taken a wrong turn and ended up here."

She searched for approval in his face, but seemed as though he was still trying to digest it all.

"Maybe your reasons for being here are better than mine."

.

He listened, losing himself in her soft lilting tones. Her felt her emotion, her love for her friend Aiden, and her regrets. Other things too. Anger at being placed in this situation, a loveless joining, more like a commodity trade, comfort and riches for her family, an end to their struggling, a dowry for her happiness. Why did so much of life depend on the opinions and the choices others made for us, he pondered.

"Maybe your reasons for being here are better than mine."

He almost laughed at that, for his reasons were no more of his own making than hers were of her own. She was watching him closely, as she had a habit of doing, or so it appeared. He wondered if she looked at everyone that way. If she did, he could understand how those she gazed upon so intently, went away longing to be looked at that way again. He smiled and nodded, “Quite a tale. With the ending still clouded and uncertain.” He looked out over the trees, continuing to speak, “So you’re now a princess, soon to be royalty. A millers daughter, in love with a blacksmiths son and now stranded. Out here in the most godforsaken forest in the entire great lands, stranded with an outcast who can never return to his home.” His voice trailed off and there was a silence between them as each was lost for a moment in the broken fairytale irony of it all.

She a still looking at him, strange emotions swirling across her face. All of them made him want to hold her, protect her and understand. He had no idea why that was. Could she be the one, he thought again. Probably not. How could she be. She was human, and here quite by accident. And she was still in love, and betrothed to another. Plus, she wanted a guide, needed him for that, to take her to Centre, or home, out of this place and to safety at any rate.

“Yes I know you’re still looking at me, and I know what you want.”

Jaren resigned to tell her something, enough maybe. Some things, well, they would have to come out if she stayed with him for any length of time. He wasn’t prepared for company of any sort, let alone a vivacious young woman who effected his control like she so easily managed to do.

“I’m here because I belong here. My father had me sent here, many years ago. Because I didn’t fit in with his image of an ideal son. My mother, she's dead. She died giving birth, my fault I think, because I’m different. It was too much for her my father always told me. And . . . someone close to me, very close, died. And that was my fault. She died because of me, because I was different and because I couldn’t control myself. So . . . here, in this place, I belong. I fit in with the other different things, things no one . . . no one wants.”

He couldn’t look at her. What must she be thinking? Questions, she would have more questions, that was her way. Maybe he could tell her, given time. He felt this need inside, not to lie, not to hold back. So, a little for now. No lying, exactly. Not deliberately holding back, more like an introduction he decided. Something for her to think bout while they moved. It was close enough to noon, and the cries and bellows of the circle of prey and predation, had shrunken into the background noise of creaking trees and wind.

“Come on Miranda. We need to find food. I wonder if they’ve left anything for us?” With that, he turned and lowered himself off the edge, paused, holding his hand out to her . . .



.

Sometimes when his eyes fixed on her it was unnerving. When other people looked at her it was business as usual, but him. Maybe this forest was making her a bit crazy, but it was like he understood. She might as well have been naked. When she spoke to others their eyes held nothing but pity for her, if they felt anything for her at all. Even Aiden could give her only pity at best.

“Quite a tale. With the ending still clouded and uncertain.”
“So you’re now a princess, soon to be royalty. A millers daughter, in love with a blacksmiths son and now stranded. Out here in the most godforsaken forest in the entire great lands, stranded with an outcast who can never return to his home.”

Her assumptions had been right. At this rate they'd be sharing clothing. She shuddered. Still it could definately be far worse. It could have been an orc or an ogre that found her back there and she'd heard more than a few unsavory tales about what they liked to do with maidens. No, he had a beauty all his own and she often had to stop herself from eyeing every detail. So much about him was a mystery. Even his clothing was different in construction and design. Many foreigners had passed through Levina over the years and never once had she seen something similar.

“Yes I know you’re still looking at me, and I know what you want.”

His words made her face hot once again. She'd lost track of how long he'd been staring.

“I’m here because I belong here. My father had me sent here, many years ago. Because I didn’t fit in with his image of an ideal son. My mother, she's dead. She died giving birth, my fault I think, because I’m different. It was too much for her my father always told me. And . . . someone close to me, very close, died. And that was my fault. She died because of me, because I was different and because I couldn’t control myself. So . . . here, in this place, I belong. I fit in with the other different things, things no one . . . no one wants.”

His words almost brought her to tears. He was probably a half breed like she thought, but of what? There was so much pain behind his words. Instinctively she wanted to hold him, let him know that someone understood and accepted him. So much of what he took responsibility for felt misplaced. Birthing babies was a difficult business even with normal children and so many things went wrong. To be cast out by his own father for being himself, it was heart breaking. Tears would have stained her cheeks if not for his sudden insistance that they decend to find food.

“Come on Miranda. We need to find food. I wonder if they’ve left anything for us?”

She took his hand and began the long climb down with him. He'd gotten her a gift, perhaps she should get him something, but what? They descended far quicker than the climb had been, and the lack of food was beginning to take it's toll. A loud growl erupted from her stomach, which she quietly laughed off. She couldn't help but wonder what was edible out here. She hadn't seen so much as a rabbit or a deer since she'd gotten there.

They made good time descending. Jaren was pleased to see her new shoes helped, as she was moving with a lot more confidence this time. And the fact they were heading down to firm ground probably helped a little he grinned.

As she took the last step down, she slipped a little and clutched at him. He swung her to the ground, enjoying the chance to touch her again, wondering for a moment how she could climb so far and stumble at the last step. He wondered if she might “slip” and fall into his arms some other time during their trip.

He watched her as she let her eyes travel slowly back up the trunk, finally staring up at where they’d spent the night. He let his voice soften a little, playfully bumping into her under the pretext of whispering into her ear, “High isn’t it? By the time we get out of here, you’ll be an expert tree jack.”

He lingered against her, then strode purposefully away, turning just enough to tell her, “Come on then if you’re hungry, the frogs won’t wait all day . . .”

She hurried to catch up, “Frogs . . . ?” but Jaren lost whatever else she was saying as he settled into a steady pace, fast enough to not waste time, but not too fast to dull his perception of the surroundings. Death had a habit of catching him unawares recently and he needed to focus.

He steered them south towards the bog. He was prepared to risk it to access water and food. Gradually the landscape changed, becoming wetter and the canopy overhead thinning. He pushed through some tall grass and stopped. Again she ran into the back of him, pressing against him, peering around his shoulder. Before them lay a vast, wet, grey coloured plain. Mounds of scrub and grass dotted the waterlogged ground and here and there clumps of gnarled mangroves huddled together as if for mutual protection. He pointed to a low mound, “There, we’ll find water and food there.” He turned to look directly at her. "Watch your step though, please. Walk in my footsteps, nowhere else. This water looks shallow, but its full of . . . things, and in some places, bottomless.”

He picked his way from dry spot to dry spot, moving cautiously and turning every now and then to watch and reassure her. Occasionally the water roiled and bubbles broke the surface. When they did he stopped instantly, making no sound until the water stilled. He was pleased to see she copied him exactly, “Good girl Mira,” he whispered softly, more to himself than her. Finally they reached the small rise he’d been working towards. He crouched low under the cover of a massive fallen log.

“Stay here, don’t move or make a sound. I won’t be long.” Jaren looked back, one last lingering look, then disappeared into the long grass . . ..



.

He'd caught her again and barely noticed how tightly she'd grabbed onto him. It no longer seemed as strange for him to touch her. It should have been alarming, and yet it wasn't. If he continued to catch her she wasn't certain that she'd protest. How had she come to trust him this much? Yesterday he didn't even want her along. She stared at the tree in awe of what she'd been able to do. Just what else was she capable of that she didn't yet know?

“High isn’t it? By the time we get out of here, you’ll be an expert tree jack.”

Well that certainly wasn't a title she ever expected to earn. Maybe she'd earn a few more titles before she was done.

“Come on then if you’re hungry, the frogs won’t wait all day . . .”

She stared at him in disbelief.

"Frogs?"

Certainly there were stranger things to eat, but never in her dreams had she imagined consuming such a creature. She and Aiden had hunted them as children. It always scared her mother and made her father smile. He began leading her towards a swamp. The smell was already creeping into her nostrils. It was hardly the smell of daisies, but she'd smelled far worse. He pointed to a spot up ahead.

“There, we’ll find water and food there.”

His eyes locked on hers. It was that look he gave when he was about to say something important.

"Watch your step though, please. Walk in my footsteps, nowhere else. This water looks shallow, but its full of . . . things, and in some places, bottomless.”

She took a deep breath and nodded. Every step was taken with more care than the last. Finally they reached the spot. It made her nervous being this close to the water. The thought of being blind to what dwelled below was both wonderful and horrifying at the same time. She could swear she saw something brush the surface, but figured it was her imagination.

“Stay here, don’t move or make a sound. I won’t be long.”

It bothered her to think of him going in their alone. What if something really had been there. She'd never forgive herself. No that was silly, he was strong and skilled with a blade from what she'd seen. He could handle this.

.

Jaren peered at her from the overgrown bull-rushes. She was sitting, glancing warily around at her surroundings. He paused for a moment, taking the time to stare without her watching him. He watched the delicate curve of her neck, the high gracefulness of her cheekbones and the way she chewed at her lip. She might be a millers daughter, but she certainly could be royalty. ‘If it wasn’t for her manners,” he snickered. His sudden noise startled something big as it glided just behind him and its massive tail flicked out. Before he could dodge, he was knocked clear through the reeds and onto the sand in front of her, amidst a great cloud of water spray.

His long silent monologue chose now to chime in with characteristic timing, “Nice move!.”

He heard her cry out in surprise, then slowly, starting with a sniff, a stifled snort, finally, she let out an uncontrolable giggle. He peeked up at her through his long wet hair, his face burning pink with embarrassment. Then, he couldn’t stop himself, he grinned, then laughed, deep and long. Jaren staggered to his feet, dripping wet. He advanced on her. “Don’t you dare!” she shrieked as he shook his wet hair at her, showering her with water like a loving pet after a bath.

Still grinning, he stood dripping over her. He could see her eyeing whatever he had under his cloak. “Please . . . I’m starving,” she pouted. The look on her face when he removed his hand was priceless. Waves of emotion, wide eyed shock, nose wrinkling disgust, silent mouth flapping protest. For in his outstretched hand he offered her a brace of still wriggling swamp toads. Feet tied together but now revived by his recent wetting, they both squirmed and chirped, as if aware they were on the menu . . .

“Don’t worry,” he joked, “They won’t be poisonous after I cook them and they taste little like ….. um ….” He searched for a term she would recognise, ahh that’s it! “They taste like domesticated laying foul.”

He could see Miranda had one of her sceptical looks on her face, as she watched him gather dry brush and bark from around the fallen log. A small fire wouldn’t hurt out here. The dank windless air stopped aromas from carrying too far, plus what he didn’t tell her, was that the fat purple toads smelt like Carnotaur dung when cooking. That was more than enough to deter any hungry predators from disturbing them.

As soon as he had enough tinder piled up, he removed a flint striker from a pouch and struck a fire. She scurried over to warm her hands, glad for both the heat and warmth. “Mira,” he asked quietly. “Why don’t you tell me where you really want me to take you . . . to your Prince, home, or . . . somewhere else?”


.

Though she had confidence in him, It was difficult to tell whether those ripples in the water were just frogs. It could be any number of slithering things that dwelled below. Though besides it being a horrid swamp of death, it wasn't bad sitting there. It was peaceful at least. Just then she saw something rise from the depths and strike the vegetation below. Jaren flew face first into the sandbar in a shower of water. Her first feeling was worry, but the second she saw that he fine she snickered. It rose to a giggle and before she knew it she was laughing so hard it almost hurt. It was then she noticed him moving towards her with an ominous gate. His face was red with embarrassment and she knew what was coming.

"No Jaren! You're crazy! No! Don't you dare!"

With a shake of his drenched hair he showered her with a spray of sand and water. His face shown with a satisfied grin. Perhaps he wasn't a total loss. Who knew that he had such a healthy sense of humor? She could see something wriggling beneath his cloak.

"Come on hurry I'm starving. What'd you get?"

It was then he withdrew a pair of large purple toads. He immediate reaction was disgust, but she'd missed quite a few meals and her stomach was becoming less picky by the minute.

“Don’t worry,” “They won’t be poisonous after I cook them and they taste little like ….. um ….”
“They taste like domesticated laying foul.”

He honestly expected her to believe they tasted like chicken? This she had to see. It would be wonderful if they did. Even so her stomach ached like it never had before. Soon he made a small fire which provided warmth she desperately needed. She placed her hands by the fire, relishing in the heat emanating from it.

“Mira,”
“Why don’t you tell me where you really want me to take you . . . to your Prince, home, or . . . somewhere else?”

That question was a problem. Surely she desired to be in Levina, more than Centre, but such a thing was impossible. If she were seen there, more guards would be sent to take her. They'd drag her to the prince. It was said that it would be good for her. They would teach her to act and think as a queen with poise and elegance. What if she did not love him and could not grow to love him. Such a choice was heartbreaking. She could choose not to return to either place, and never see her family or Aiden again. Never would she see them smile or laugh, but the agony of having to pretend to be happy if she returned to them as a queen. None of her choices could ever lead them to being together. She then looked to Jaren and remembered the thought she'd had before. He deserved a gift as thoughtful as his had been for her. She knew exactly what needed to be done.

"I don't think I want to go to either Levina or Centre. You see we both have a great deal in common. Neither of us have really gotten to see the world as much. Am I right? I think we should visit some of the southern territory. The forests there are supposed to be just gorgeous and alot of it is neutral ground used for trade. I need to get away for awhile. You really need to get away for awhile."

He'd been preparing the frogs as she spoke. She hadn't been paying as much attention to that until a foul odor erupted from the flames.

"What do you say? You and me, on a journey. I know they'll probably find me eventually. The royal family always gets their way. So, why not have some fun?"

There was really no telling what his response would be. He'd probably hadn't left these woods in quite awhile. He belonged out there with people. He deserved to be happy.

"Jaren I have to be honest. That smells just terrible."

.

"What do you say? You and me, on a journey. I know they'll probably find me eventually. The royal family always gets their way. So, why not have some fun?"

“She had such a disarmingly odd way of putting things,” he mused while trying to hold his breath. It was all he could do to concentrate on turning the skewered toads, as the last of the wriggling stopped, as fats and oils dripping into the low flames emitted clouds of venomous steam. Steam that really did just plain stink. He looked over to where she was sitting, her long legs curled up under her, torn between wanting warmth from the fire, her hunger, and the incredible stench he was creating.

Jaren's eyes watered as he fought to concentrate on her question. Her way of putting things was disarming. He wouldn’t have called anything about out here fun. “Heck,” he certainly wouldn’t have used that term to describe himself either. Jaren wasn’t stupid enough not to know, that living alone wasn’t without it’s price, social interaction and “fun” being only the obvious ones.

“Don’t worry,” he put off her question while letting the possibilities of her offer whirl around in his head. “The stink actually will stop in a second, trust me.”

“Not, trust me, again,” he winced. He seemed to be saying that a lot recently. And for some reason she seemed to actually want to. Odd. Sure she was caught between choices which would make anyone want to escape. And maybe that was most of it. But, he felt more. He could sense she was attracted to him, and without him having to alter her perception either. For once he didn’t feel he had to.

As if on cue, the steam and smoke cleared. The fats had stopped dripping and the skin was now roasting nicely. He lifted one stick and slipped the charred toad off. Taking his knife he made two quick incisions and deftly peeled off the skin. She still looked a little unsure, so he bit into a leg himself. It was surprisingly moist and, if you could forget what I was, it did taste more than a bit like roasted foul. Jaren offered it to her and busied himself with the remaining toad.

Finally, he sat with his back against the fallen log, savouring the meat, the momentary peace, and . . . her. She was picking at her food, but, every now and then, she would close her eyes and he could see her, despite her misgivings, adding remembered tastes to the meat, and relishing it for what it was. While they ate in silence he thought. About what he wanted to do. He imagined where he could go if there were no boundaries, just to be free to wander. It was an enticing thought.

“There is one thing . . .” he broke the quiet with a soft, half serious, half musing tone. “I’ve heard tales . . . long ago. Of lands end. Of a vast expanse of water, stretching out to the unseen horizon and beyond. . . . I’ve never seen that much water. I should very much like to one day . . .” he concentrated on his meat, stripping the last and licking his fingers.

“When you’re ready, we have some desert, well, almost pure water anyway.” He couldn’t help but laugh softly at her again, “Although I think you really will have to close your eyes for this one . . .” Jaren moved to kneel in front of her, letting his gaze soften as he locked his eyes onto hers. “Trust me Mira . . .”



.

She'd watched him pull the charred creature from the flames and remove the outer flesh. It was that part that she'd feared the most. Jaren seemed to enjoy it. She questioned his tastes as he ate one of the legs and then passed her some of the meat. At first she didn't know if she could do it, but watching him only made her hungrier. After awhile she began to eat and found that if she closed her eyes it was very similar to chicken. It could have used some fresh herbs or something of the like, but it wasn't half bad. Her stomach no longer cared what it was. After a time she'd become satisfied. He was slow to respond at all. Even after the meat was gone he didn't say anything immediately. It had been a crazy idea. To think that he'd go with her someplace unknown. They'd only just met the day before. It was foolish to believe that he'd just drop everything to go on some spontaneous trip. Finally he broke the silence between them.

“There is one thing . . .”

“I’ve heard tales . . . long ago. Of lands end. Of a vast expanse of water, stretching out to the unseen horizon and beyond. . . . I’ve never seen that much water. I should very much like to one day . . .”

There it was. She'd heard of such a place as well. Water as far as the eye could see and with more fish than one could ever eat. It sounded like an excellent destination. It was decided in her mind. They would go there if he allowed it. It bothered her to think of him staying here all alone. He should have company and actual chicken. He should laugh like this more often and have dreams if he wanted any.

“When you’re ready, we have some desert, well, almost pure water anyway.”

He had a wonderful laugh. She tried not to lock eyes with him as much, but sometimes she just couldn't help herself. Here she was thinking about saving him when she could barely save herself. He knelt in front of her and she felt her body become warmer than before. The way he looked at her was irresistable and for the first time she realized something she hadn't before.

“Although I think you really will have to close your eyes for this one . . .”

She nodded, letting it seep into her consciousness. He was more than just nice to look at. She'd never stared at Aiden this way. There was this overwhelming desire to know him and to have him near. There was something else too. There was fear. The fear that he could very well be an entirely different person and that she didn't know him at all.

“Trust me Mira . . .”

She did trust him, and surprisingly more than anyone else she knew. Her eyes shut tightly as she accepted the cool water. It tasted better than fine. Of course any water would at this point. Still it was a sign that she trusted him completely. When she'd had enough she motioned him to stop.

"Jaren I've decide to go to the ocean. I would like you to join me as my escort. Besides if you keep falling into the sand like that you'll need a bath anyway."

He looked steadily into her eyes, as if measuring her. After a pause he said, “How about, instead of just an escort, we go as partners.” She reacted with a flush of bright pink and he realised how that might have sounded. Quickly he continued, ”Partners in an adventure, of . . discovery.” He leant close to her, he almost bushed his lips across hers, then, taking her hand he pulled her to her feet. Making a show of looking around, he smiled, “We better get going then, the sea is a long way off, or so I’ve heard. And we need to find somewhere safe to sleep again." He saw her look of concern. This time he openly laughed, “Hah, trust me Mira, I know somewhere we can go . . .”

They picked their way back across the marsh, stepping from dry mound to sandbank and back to mound. Jaren constantly looking around, and taking time to look over his shoulder, flashing her a grin of encouragement. He hadn’t felt this lighthearted in many years. Longer, since his childhood, since before he was banished. Finally they reached the grassy bank and both looked back, almost glad to be clear of the oppressive greenish grey of the bog and back into the dark forest. He took her hand and pulled her along, heading into the dark. In his mind he was measuring how much distance they had to make and how quickly darkness was approaching. He quickly realised that they weren’t going to make it though, and he had to change plan. They moved east, and slowly, as they traversed, the ground began to subtly rise underfoot.

An hour or so later, the rising ground had given way to a steady climb. Up and up they went, rocks increasingly replacing earth underfoot. Miranda was gamely keeping up but she was clearly tired, exhausted even. The going was so rough that now he had to help her, pulling her up over rocky outcroppings and steadying her when she needed it. “Almost there …” he tried to sound comforting, and to hide his own exhaustion.

Finally, they cleared the canopy and emerged blinking, standing on rock under an orange, late afternoon sun. It was low in the sky and sinking fast. They had made the top of a towering rise with barely minutes before dark to spare. Surrounded by weathered granite and with the dark forest looking verdant and healthy from above, no hint of its myriad evils visible. Jaren pulled them towards a shallow bowl cut into the edge of a small cliff. It was small, cozy even and without speaking he sank down, pulling her to him and covering them protectively with his cloak. Soon she was in deep sleep and he allowed himself to brush his lips across her forehead before joining her, completely spent . . .


.

He was examining with his eyes, or atleast that was what it felt like. There was still so much she didn't know about him. He knew about her life, her home, her crush, and all she knew was that he'd been forbidden from returning home. Where was his home?

“How about, instead of just an escort, we go as partners.”

Her face flushed a bright red color. Partners was the word he chose. Whether he meant it that way or not it had allowed her to imagine it in her mind.She remembered the way he held her the night before. His warmth and his arms holding her close.

”Partners in an adventure, of . . discovery.”
“We better get going then, the sea is a long way off, or so I’ve heard. And we need to find somewhere safe to sleep again."
“Hah, trust me Mira, I know somewhere we can go . . .”

It was enough to deter that train of thought for atleast awhile. He helped her to her feet and they began their travel. Trusting him, that was all she did these days. Would there be a time when he'd have to rely on her? She'd have been dead a long time ago without him. They moved quickly but quietly through the wood as they had the day before. It wasn't as difficult, but it was still as tiring. She looked forward to speaking with him when they stopped to rest. The more they spoke the more she learned about him. He gazed up at the sky and seemed to know something she did not. They changed direction sharply and began moving up hill. Had the plan changed? The terrain was becoming harsher and his pace was quicker than she could handle. It was swiftly defeating her and soon she needed him to help her in the climb. Her legs were growing weary and her breath unsteady.

“Almost there …”

When they'd reached their goal she panted, staring at the beauty of the sunset. Her expectations were shattered. She barely had strength enough to stand let alone engage in conversation. He pulled them into a gap in the cliff. She didn't protest or even say a word. He felt so nice being this close that she slowly faded into a deep sleep. She drifted into an odd dream but did not yet know.

Her eyes opened to find Jaren staring back at her. He ran a hand through her hair and caressed her cheek with his thumb. His lips pressed lightly against her forehead and then her left cheek. Her heart was racing as his mouth moved closer and closer to hers.

"Jaren what are you doing?"

He placed a single finger on her lips before replacing it with his own. His hand tangled in her hair as the kiss moved from gentle to rough. She moaned softly in her throat before he finally broke the kiss.

"Tell me love...can the black smith's son do that?" This he whispered softly in her ear.

She shook her head.

"There's more I can do that he can't. Trust me..You just have to do one thing for me."

Her body was shuddering beneath him, becoming wet and wanting. She hung on his every word.

"You have to wake up Mira."

She woke with a start. Her breath was ragged and her heart was racing. None of it had happened. None of it was real, but oh the things that she'd done. The things she'd wanted to do in the dream were more than she was prepared for, but it was just a stupid dream. Wasn't it? Besides, he was acting more than a bit out of character. If he had that kind of irresistable charm, she'd yet to see it. Sure he was charming, but that had been different. He'd been so intense. There was one good thing though. He was still there with her this morning, holding her in a protective embrace. The only thing uncomfortable was the feel of something hard pressing against her. She figured, it was probably one of his swords that had shifted in the night and vowed to mention it when he woke. She heard loud crowing not far from them, but figured they were hidden well enough. There was no immediate need to wake him. If she relaxed, maybe she'd fall back to sleep and have normal dreams for once.