Snow Angel (On Hold)

Chaper Nine: Trust

Author's Note:

Hello everyone! Sorry for the long wait, I had extreme writer's block! Everything is fine now that I have my thoughts for this story in order.

You might find this chapter a bit uneventful, but it is quite important because you learn a bit more about the infamous Thyrion Quincey! :D

So please enjoy, comment, and/or follow! Tell me what you think.

Also, please check out my new book "Grey Skyes", I promise that you will enjoy it! ;)

THANK YOU!!!

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Chapter Nine: Trust

The crisp winter air nips at my exposed skin and the wind tares at my clothing. Thyrion quickly ushers me out of the cart while clasping my hand.  He notices my shivering and quickly whisks off his tuxedo jacket and wraps it around my shoulders and wings. Leaving little time to spare, he begins to stride down the dirt path leading away from the castle, with my hand in his. The path is almost fenced in with the castle wall on one side, and the forest on the other.

Rain falls all around us, drenching both us within seconds. Thyrion's once white shirt now clings to his skin, taking the color of his tan hide. Droplets roll of my face and hair, blurring my vision and causing me to shiver even more. Darkness cloaks us with the night, making me wonder how Thyrion can even tell where we are going. I pull Quinn's jacket tighter around me, but even that can't stop the cold from blistering me. The sound of my bare feet and Quinn's boots pounding against the path echo off of the walls of the castle as we jog closer and closer to the city.

Just as my limbs begin to fail, we come to an abrupt halt. I nearly clash into Thyrion's back, and catch myself just in time. He looks both ways before leading me off the path and into the forest. We both dodge into the brush, with it shielding us from the wind and rain. Trees and bushes claw at my face and sticks and stones tare at my feet. I desperately grasp his hand, praying that he won't let go and leave me in this mess.

I stumble after Thyrion with my eyes closed tightly until soft dirt suddenly caresses my aching feet. The rain ceases its attack on me, and turns into a soft hum against a solid surface.The warmth of Quinn's hand vanishes as he lets go and continues forward.

I open my eyes to see that I am standing in a worn, wooden doorway. My eyes scan the small shack that lays before my eyes. The shack itself had to be the size of my old cell. An old straw cot lies in one corner with a battered old blanket and a pillow on top of it. Across the room is a cabinet flush up against the wall with a pair of swinging doors and three drawers on the bottom. The handles are missing nails and dangle uselessly with rust. The wood of the cabinet is chipped and scratched, showing that it has experienced many years of life. Finally, next to the cabinet is a wooden chair with the man that saved me slouched in its seat.

Thyrion's forehead rests in his palm as he takes in large gulps of air. His eyes are closed tightly and water drips off of the tip of his nose and onto the soft dirt ground. His clothes cling to him like a second skin and his hair is mussed from the wind and rain.

How can someone so innocent looking, be the complete opposite?

"Why?" I whisper, my voice barely rising over the hum of the rain paddling against the thin roof of the shack. Wind whips through the doorway and tangles through my hair. Annoyed, I turn around quickly and close the antique wooden door, ceasing the wind's attack on me. I hurriedly turn back around to face Quinn. My eyes instantly fall on his rigid form, still seated in the old chair. His head no longer rests in his hands, and his eyes are now wide open and staring upon me with surprise. His lips are slightly parted, as if he wants to speak, but when no words come forth, I speak up. "Why did you help me?"