A Deadly Bite

7 || Pink

A cacophony of leaping insects seem to have split from deep inside of me, crawling the underside of my skin and leaping in tune with my pulse. I draw my legs to my chest, straighten them, cross them, switch them over. My fingers drum at the ground. At my back, shrubbery digs in, uncomfortable no matter how many times I shift.

I toss yet another glance over my shoulder. Still nothing. The forest's empty state is illuminated all the more by the climbing sun, every shadow picked out with clarity. No specs of gold. No familiar laughter. There's a vacant space left, yawning, desperate to be filled.

"They say a watched pot never boils, you know."

Jolting, I twist around, forcing myself to relax when I meet Dalton's soft gaze. The red tints in his hair catch in the early light. His legs stretch out in line with his carefully-laid sword sheath.

I run my tongue over my lips. "What do you mean?"

"It's a saying. Take it as the more impatiently you wait, the longer it will seem until what you're waiting for happens. Try focusing on something else."

My gaze darts to the sky as if it will lend me the distraction I need. All I see is the drifting clouds, the cracks of blue between them, tinted the same shade as Sarielle's eyes. Another twig probes the small of my back. With a sigh, I push up onto my feet, fists clenching as I rock on my heels. "I can't."

"Have I ever told you about the time I watched a storm?"

Frowning, I spin to face him. A glint has lit in his eyes, parting their grey clouds. "What does that have to do with anything?"

My tone is sharper than I mean. I wince as he ducks his head, uncertainty wavering his fragile smile. "I'm sorry. Sarie said you liked listening to stories."

She talks about me with Dalton. An odd sort of warmth unfurls in my chest, stiffening my nod yet pleasant all the same. "I do. Sorry. You... you haven't told me that. Please, keep going."

"Alright." He sits a little straighter, expression carved soft by his distant smile. "It announced itself first with thunder. I rushed outside as soon as I heard those rumbling peels, and climbed right up to the top of the barn roof." He laughs softly. "It was stupid and reckless, of course, but I was young and too caught in my awe for sense. It was like the sky was at war with itself, constantly split by dazzling forks, that beat of thunder rolling so deep it shook my chest."

I can't help but creep closer, watching the delight in his face, curiosity spooled around my heart. "Were you not afraid?"

"No. Foolishly, perhaps. My mother certainly told me so afterward." He runs a vacant hand through his hair, his gaze landing with more precision on me. "But perhaps the most magical things will always be frightening and dangerous to love."

A thin tremor slides down my spine. I try for a returned smile, but it's slippery, so I look back to the forest instead. "I hope I see a storm one day."

"You will. I'll put in a good word with the weather for you."

It takes me a couple of seconds to find the joke in his tone. I fumble for a response a little more creative than a simple thanks, yet before I can grasp ahold of anything, my thoughts splinter. Serrated, fiery pain erupts in my chest, searing my insides, spreading a multitude of cracks from that fragile pit. With a gasp that yields little air, I stumble forward. The ground tips and whirls. If not for the sturdy hands that catch me, I would trip into the dirt.

"Hey." Dalton's voice blurs, drowned by the pounding in my ears. "You okay?"

"I..." Bracing myself against his chest, I try to pull myself upright, but another aching wave sweeps away the temporary anchor. I squeeze my eyes shut, curling my fingers into his tunic. Nothing but short pants will escape. They're near impossible to thread into words. "It... it hurts..."