Meet Me There ( RusAme )

Chapter Three ~ Alfred

I sit in the silence, my head resting on the tree behind me, my ears still ringing. Damn Mathew! I sigh, and rub my pounding temples.

Last night was a disaster. Well, perhaps it wasn't as bad as it could have been, but had Mathew not been forced to tag along, I could have done what needed to be done more efficiently.

It was a normal night for the most part. I attended a party of one of father's clients, and I did what I was told to do: get information and make contacts.

But I also had to babysit Mathew. I almost feel bad for him, but he gave me a head ache so emphasis on almost.

Mathew didn't really do much wrong, but he has a stuttering problem when he gets nervous, and that does not look good to the one percent.

I was always having to secretly correct small things he would do. Using the wrong fork, calling someone the wrong name, toasting with the wrong cup, and much more.

I understand it's a lot to take in within a few hours, but he should have at least known the difference between his tea and soup spoon.

Just thinking of last night, I rub my temples again, trying to ease the pounding of my brain.

Father was also upset with me when I returned with only one new contact, and minimal information. He will probably send me out again soon for this reason. Great.

I close my eyes, and try to clear my mind as I listen to the sounds of nature all around me. Birds sing in the branches above me, a small creek trickles some meters behind me, undergrowth rustles beneath me, and a quiet winds sways through the air.

All the sounds are familiar to me. Any free time that I get is spent reading in this tree at this clearing in the woods behind my house. I've been coming here ever since I was little. It's what has kept me sane, and I'm the only one who knows.

But then I hear something I'm not used to. Twigs snap repeatedly, and I hear the small thups of footfalls on dirt and grass.

Someone is coming towards me. Before I can leave my place in the tree, I can see who it is that has come to my clearing.

It's a tall male, who looks like he is supposed to be my age, but older some how. Ashen blond hair falls into strikingly violet eyes. I notice his nose is larger then the average nose, and he wears bandages around his neck, a tan, torn tee-shirt, and green, stained shorts.

His face is young and light, but with wrinkles to show he may be older then he looks or younger then he looks. But the axe he carries besides him says he may not be all that young.

I stay perched on my branch, silent, and watch what he does. Few people ever look up so if I stay silent, this mysterious man just might leave and I won't have any trouble.

It's funny, he carries an axe and looks very rugged, but I don't fear this man. In a way, he almost seems.... Childish. Not the annoying, idiotic childishness I usually associate with kids. But instead a more innocent and vulnerable childishness.

One would think I'm crazy though, his huge size and tone muscles indicate he is a man to respect and admire, but above all, fear.

But if there is one thing I've learned in my so far short life, it's to never judge a book by its cover.

I watch from above as he lumbers closer. He seems tired, worn out, but doesn't want to show it. His shoulders slump slightly, and he almost drags the axe behind him, but not quite. He still holds himself with pride.

The closer he gets, the more I am intrigued by this character. Is he really all the scarey? Or misunderstood? How can one look so young and so old at the same time? What must his life be like that he is so worn, but refuses to show it?