Feathers -eng ver-

Chapter 3- Under the Clouds

«Are you serious, Mik? Do I really have to pretend to be your cousin?» The girl asked incredulously, not understanding the reason for such an order.

That very morning, in fact, only three days after they had met, the black-haired man had taken her to the market because "you can't go around dressed like that, you'll get into trouble" and had therefore grabbed her and forced her to accompany him shopping. "So, if they ask who you are, say you're my cousin and you're from the Western Province, alright?" he had told her as they walked down the path and the first roofs of the houses began to appear from behind the crest of the hill.

For her part, she didn't understand why the shirt and trousers didn't suit a young woman like her, and she had no desire to wear long, uncomfortable dresses.

«I'm not that bad as a cousin!» Protested Mikhael, acting offended and showing a childish pout. «Some people would envy you, in the village!» He continued to complain, posing as a five-year-old and showing puppy eyes, despite being almost thirty years old.

As an excuse then, it was terrible, as well as fake.

Len rolled her eyes and ignored the man's complaints. When he had asked her to stay at their house, he had not warned her of the commitment she had made to put up with him.

During the morning, therefore, the black-haired man had strolled through the village accompanied by Len's constant presence, keeping her at arm's length to avoid her snooping around and getting into trouble. He approached the various shops and stalls selling clothes, taking them for the girl to try on, who, without being forced, would never have picked up or worn one.

There were fabrics of all kinds and colours, but not a single one of them appealed to the young woman accompanying the Wizard. So, in the end, he had done it all himself, picking and choosing the clothes he thought best matched the girl's pretty face and slender body. Back home, she had ended up with a few white shirts and a couple of skirts; but stubborn as she was, she had not tried them on until Noya had managed to convince her.

Everyone had been fascinated by the girl's beauty; even Estel. Although, unlike the others, he had not said a single word to show his appreciation. He simply watched her in silence, admiring the colourful fabric tightening around her narrow waist and falling softly over her curvy hips.

In those days -and in the entire first week and a half- the youngest had not said a single word to Len, reserving only indecipherable glances for her. Sometimes he seemed to intimidate her, sometimes he wanted to know her.

He had never spoken to the young woman, and even fewer times had he sought any kind of physical contact as Narith and Noya did, hugging her and patting her on the back. He avoided her in every possible way. Even at mealtimes, he hardly ever laid his eyes on the girl's figure, and when he did, such tension grew that it could be cut with a knife. After eating he always disappeared into his room, often followed by his blondie friend.

          On one of those mornings, while the pair of friends were holed up in the younger man's room, Narith had suddenly thrown open the door and rushed in, surprising and frightening the two.

Noya had let out a half scream, before hurriedly rolling himself up in the sheet and falling badly off the sofa, hitting the hard floor. Estel, on the other hand, had raised his head and looked with confusion and anger at the young man who, standing in front of the still open door, smiled innocently. His gaze was so powerful that it could have pulverised the brunette.

After a few moments Noya had also raised his head, emerging from the mountain of white cloth that towered above his almost petite body. His narrow blue eyes had never shown so much desire to kill the elder. His cheeks and ears were beginning to tinge red with embarrassment as he tried to better adjust the very light sheet that covered his bare skin. «Is it so hard to knock before entering?!» he had started to shout, continuing to hide under the fluffy white pile.