The Lonely Ones

Chapter Twenty-Six: Performance Issues

As Wren said, Camellia had no recollection of her time under a spell. Artemis sits across from her at the table eating a lackluster breakfast. Her dim eyes refuse to gaze upon him. When he tells her goodbye for the day, she doesn't respond. There's a brief moment where he regrets his wish, but it's gone in a flash. Honesty hurts, but it's better than a lie in this case.

Artemis leaves. During a hunt, the Grim Woods feels like any other. Animals lurk among the shadows, hidden to the naked eye. The sun hangs high in the sky, blocked by the tree canopy and sometimes soothed by a cool breeze. If one didn't know better, they'd think they were in a normal forest. But when they stumbled across tracks that looked like a does, they may end up in a goblin's den. Torn to ribbons to dry on a rack and bones twisted together to hang from branches like windchimes.

Artemis knows what tracks belong to a deer and what belongs to a goblin up to no good. He shifts through grass and mud, noticing the scuffs of antlers against trees or slight indentations in the dirt from a hoof. A buck sneaks through the thicket. His antlers tussle the low branches of nearby trees. Black, beady eyes take in his surroundings, observing the quiet forest. He leans over to graze, oblivious to the hunter watching from the shadows. Artemis takes aim. Steady hands hold the bow perfectly. Not a single leaf rustles as he hides among them.

"Good afternoon."

The arrow fires, missing the buck by a mile. The buck bolts into the forest. Long gone. Pointless to chase.

Startled, Artemis faces his visitor, who appeared beside him without warning. Wren kneels in the brush, having never made a sound to show himself. The thought sends a shiver down Artemis' spine, then another for a much different reason when Wren's arm brushes against his.

Artemis swiftly stands, stomping out of the brush.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, swinging the bow in frustration. That was a good buck. Someone would have paid a fine price for the rack to mount on their wall, even if the kill was not their own.

"Did I come at a bad time?" Wren inquires, nodding towards the thicket where the buck once roamed. "Don't be embarrassed, my knight. I will not hold your poor aim against you."

"Poor aim?!" he huffs. "You surprised me and scared the deer. Of course I missed!"

"I will not look down on you for your excuses ei--" Wren smirks when Artemis releases an arrow that glides past his hip, centimeters from imbedding itself into the skin. He glares, knocking another arrow, challenging Wren to repeat such slanderous remarks.

"If you're going to shoot me, aim above the waist," Wren says, making Artemis tilt his head. His cheeks brighten when Wren explains, "There's something below I doubt you wish to hit."

"Why must you always be so vulgar?" Artemis chides, pivoting on his heel to shield his flustered expression. Wren was exceptionally good at that; making him blush. And he didn't know how to handle that, if he liked it or hated it.

"I'll show you true vulgarity, if you'd be so inclined," Wren purrs against the shell of Artemis' ear. When did he get so close?!

Artemis shoves his shoulder against Wren's chest, forcing him to retreat two steps. The breath from Wren's chuckle still tickles his cheeks that refuse to simmer down. Memories of their kiss shared only two nights ago resurface. Artemis licks his lips that feel too dry.

"Your teasing is becoming obnoxious," he hisses.

"Who said I'm teasing?" Wren challenges, following his prey through the forest.

Artemis searches for another hunt. He speaks with his back to Wren, feeling his gaze. "Because it's in your nature to tease and torment."

"Indeed. I am forever burdened by the incessant need to pick at everyone's last nerve, and to do so in extraordinary fashion."