𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓞𝓯 𝓐𝓶𝓻𝓲𝓷

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 1: -𝔁- 𝓡. 𝓐𝓴𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓪

The cold winter breeze tickled my peachy skin. Tiny patterns of snow fell on my long brown hair. Covering most of my body as I stood in the field of wet snow. Although I looked down over a warm fire, my hands numbed to every passing breeze. A light shawl and a thin jacket covered my aching body. Gazing aimlessly into the bright fire, my mind stills. What now? After five useless days on the run. What am I to do now? The sparks from the fire fly around, hitting Asher's boots and mine.

I stare into the flame with one hand on top of my hip and the other on a shrinking cigarette. Drawing the cancer stick to my mouth, I take a deep inhale and a slow exhale. Thinking to myself, what is my future? The sound of Aster's groggy voice brings me back to the present.

"Rose," He begins his lecture. "You should get some rest. We have a long way to go." Asher tilts his head up at me after noticing my dazed stare.

Using his bundle-up head, he nudges to the tent that they previously built. He rests, sitting on a hollowed log. I take another smoke of my cigarette before speaking, disregarding his suggestions. "I'm fine," I respond, cutting off what I expected to be a long talk about being safe and taking care of myself; I answer straightly. "I'm not tired," I said, Looking around the desolate area and furrowing my eyebrows. "Where's Arlo?"Asher shakes his head and looks towards the forest.

"Busy," his shivering hand points to a bush-filled area in the distance. "I asked him to get some firewood," Asher continues. "He probably wants to be alone," he says as if it were common sense. I scoff and throw my cigarette into the fire; it roars slightly.

To think that Asher cares about my well-being, I mumble to the air. Looking at where he points, I see an area that may have been pushed through. Snow crunches as my heavy leather boots hit the ground; the further I go, the darker it gets. Stopping, I look for any signs of Arlo. "Arlo!" I yell into the distance. No response. Where is that idiot? Trying again, I shout slightly louder than before. I continue walking after not getting a response. Scoping out the area, I groan in annoyance and sit on a dead tree trunk that had fallen. He's never been gone for this long, idiot. I beat him in my mind and slightly out loud. Suddenly, I hear something sounding like something hitting a tree. Quickly, I stand up to check out the noise. I listen to it again and trail my feet, following the sound. Seeing a dim light, I call his name again, hoping it isn't some weird stranger. "Arlo?"

"Rose? What.. what are you doing out here?" His firm, defeated British accent engulfs our surroundings. With a dim flashlight in his hand, I vaguely see his tired face. I approach his space slowly, noticing a collection of chopped logs, a shoulder bag and an axe in his tough hands. After asking the question, he hitches the axe on the tree.

"What are you doing?" I return his concern with a soft tone. After stepping close to him, I see an array of salt drops on his rugged face. Tears? Out of place, I thought.

He lets out a short, stifled laugh. Picking up what he previously chopped down, he hands me a few big pieces and blows his hot breath into the air. "Just the air." He hands me the light and begins to walk back to camp. "It's unsafe out here; you should've stayed with Asher." I slowly followed behind as the man lectured me, flashing the light before him.

"The air?" I mumble in his regard.

I hate it when he lectures me; I can handle myself. I have this whole time. While shifting between the wilderness, the flashlight illuminates onto his back. Even though it's dark out, the light shows his broad-covered back, thick arms and oddly slender hands. As we return to our temporary base, our feet sound on the white snow.

"Asher, why have you permitted her Highness to follow me into the woods." Arlo shakes his head jokingly and drops the wood at Asher's feet. I plant myself next to Asher and reach for a piece to throw into the fire. It slightly grows, and I place the remaining pieces of wood next to the trunk they are on.

 "She walked off by herself," Asher replies, giving me a look.

"Nor am I helpless," I add to his protest. Turning my back to them, I head to the tent.

Entering it, I lay a few more leaves on the ground before sitting and reaching for my blue shoulder bag. Hearing a shrill, lazy voice laughing about god knows what, I roll my eyes and dig through my satchel. How can she laugh at a time like this? Asher's ex-girlfriend, only god knows why she joined us, but her laugh makes me want her gone. While looking through my bag, I pull out a partially burnt envelope. Arlo gave it to me the day my mother died five days ago. He claims that he didn't write it, but it was given to him by an old friend.

The back of the paper reads, 'To my belladonna if you start to wither.' I look confused at the letter that I've refrained from reading all this time. Belladonna? The nickname felt curious to me. The dark red envelope isn't addressed from nor to anyone. Yet, the flower confuses me. Rose has always been a nickname for me, but Belladonna is interesting. Wither, what is that implying? I think before a tan slender hand pulls back the tent entrance.

"Off to bed, are we?" The British voice says, sitting in front of me. He glances at the letter in my hand before flashing an annoyed look that goes away quickly. "I was until you barged in," I answer, putting the envelope in the pocket of my satchel. After a few minutes of silence, he steps further into the tent, sitting across from me.

"You haven't opened it yet?" He asks, looking at the pocket of my bag. Pulling a piece of my uncombed hair behind my ear, I said, "I haven't withered."I respond in a sarcastic tone. Arlo looks back at me, and the annoyed look returns. He doesn't respond to my statement, which I find odd.

"Asher said you were questioning his decisions," Arlo sighed. I look at the rugged man seated in front of me. His pepper and salt hair neatly sat on his tanned face. How can he look so together, even now?

"Asher's plans involve running and staying village to village for the rest of our lives. I'm tired of running. I know that he is, too." He's just better at hiding it. Arlo leans in and grabs my chilled hand with his gloved one.

"We could go to Amrin. There are people who can help." Before he could finish, I cut him off.

"No. Amrin is risky, and Asher won't be able to stay there." Amrin is a place that my pompous family isn't too welcome in. With my disgust of the city, I pull my hand away. None of us could be safe except that ginger girl out there if we were to go there.

He grips my hand tighter, " I know someone there who will help us as long as we help him. Rosy. Think about it. I promised her I'd look after you, and that's what I'm trying to do, please, kiddo." Her again. He looks at me with sympathetic ease. Fuck, I always give in to him. I nod, looking away from his deep blue eyes. He smiles at my hesitant agreement and leaves the tent.

I lay back, defeated, and closed my eyes. She. His fiancé, my best friend. Diona is kind-hearted, has thousands of people on her side, and is a beautiful singer—the opposite of me. She's perfect for Arlo, but is that what he needs? Anytime he mentions her, I feel my heart sink. I might have been perfect for him if I had been born three years earlier. Feeling depressed by my jealous thoughts, I opened my eyes.

I turn on my side, looking at the envelope peeking out of my bag. Amrin? It's not somewhere I'd be welcomed, for sure. Now I'm going there for solitude? I scoff and spin back to my original position. Who's Arlo's friend anyway? I doubt he'd be any extreme help. The floor isn't as comfortable as the ones back home, but I feel calm. My eyes flutter, closing them, falling into a light sleep.