Descent - Mattheo Riddle

Chapter twenty-three

Lucia

May 28th, 7:00 a.m., Highlands Hideout

I woke up to the gentle light of dawn filtering through the small window of the wooden hut, casting soft patterns on the rustic walls. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, my mind was clear, free from the haunting echoes of nightmares that had plagued me for nights. Instead, lingering fragments of beautiful, serene dreams danced at the edge of my consciousness, dreams that seemed too distant and ethereal to belong in the harsh reality we lived.

As I lay there, trying to hold onto the fading threads of peace, I noticed the proximity of Mattheo next to me. His presence, once a source of tension, now oddly comforting. The realization that we had shared the small bed without the barriers of our usual cautious distance made me stir, a blush creeping up my cheeks. Despite the intimacy, there was an unspoken agreement in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the necessity that had driven our decision.

"Good morning," Mattheo's voice broke the quiet, a hint of amusement perhaps detecting my embarrassment. His eyes met mine, and for a fleeting moment, I saw something other than the usual guarded reserve, a flicker of something softer, gentler.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, his tone casual but with a curious undercurrent that suggested he might already know the answer.

"Surprisingly well," I admitted, my voice a whisper, still half-clinging to the tranquility of my dreams. "It's strange, I... I had no nightmares."

The room was bathed in the early light, the simplicity of the hut suddenly feeling like a haven from the world outside. As I sat up, adjusting to the morning, the reality of our situation settled back in. We were still fugitives, still caught in a relentless pursuit, yet this brief respite had offered a glimpse of something other than despair.

Mattheo watched me for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's good to hear. A night of peace can make all the difference," he said, his voice holding a note of sincerity that was rare in our exchanges.

As we prepared for the day, the weight of our journey loomed ahead, yet the unexpected night of rest had fortified my resolve. Whatever lay ahead, the brief reprieve had strengthened my spirit, knitting back some of the frayed edges of my resolve.

"Today, we should focus on gathering supplies and mapping out our next move," Mattheo suggested, already in the mode of planning our survival. His strategic mind never rested, always calculating, always planning steps ahead.

As I nodded in agreement, a part of me was grateful for his presence, his unwavering focus on our safety and future. In the quiet of the morning, in the shared space of our temporary refuge, I found myself not just accepting but appreciating his company, the bond between us forged a bit deeper by the trials we faced together.

After freshening up in the somewhat functional bathroom, Mattheo and I shared a modest breakfast of bread, courtesy of the villagers, and berries we'd gathered from the nearby forest. With nourishment handled, Mattheo spread out the map he had taken from my family's house, and we delved once more into planning our route. The discussion was meticulous, pinpointing potential stops for supplies and the safest spots for breaks. Our encounter with the Death Eaters had heightened the urgency of our caution; they would undoubtedly be on our trail again soon if we weren't careful.

Once our planning concluded, a heavy silence settled between us. It was unfamiliar yet not entirely unwelcome. Recent days had been a relentless blur of movement, hiding, and survival. Now, tucked away in this decrepit hut, shielded by the dense thicket of the forest, there was no immediate need to move. Nothing indicated the presence of life, much less danger, near us. For the first time, we were not compelled to keep walking; everything was planned, and in the current stillness, there was little else to do.