𝐼𝑁𝑁𝑂𝐶𝐸𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝐿𝑂𝑆𝑇 // 𝐴. 𝐷𝐸 𝑅𝑈𝑁𝐸

𝑋𝑋𝑋𝐼

| I Bask Within the Gentle Domesticity, Till the Rat Squeaks... |

—

JANUARY, 1349

It was a frigid day, the midwinter air blowing over the land, scattering freshly fallen snow; small animals burrowing into their homes. The children of the Château d'Ombrage were also burrowing, so to speak. They had prepared their home for winter as best as they could, storing food with the hopes that it wouldn't rot, stealing thicker blankets, and adding layers to their clothing.

Marion had swapped out her makeshift cloak for a real one– courtesy of Amicia, who couldn't seem to keep her fingers still. Its brown fur was thick, heavy, and warm; fit for a proper lady. Marion was no such thing, but she allowed herself to pretend. The dark-haired girl had been doing a lot of pretending. She almost felt like she was eight again, chasing chickens without a care in the world.

Amicia was doing a lot of pretending too. She tried to make the others believe that she was getting over Hugo's... disappearance, but Marion could see through her like she was a thin sheet of glass. She could see the longing in her lover's eyes whenever she gazed over the vast expanse just beyond the Château, and the tears that pooled whenever she thought of the boy for a second too long.

Marion placed one of her hands on the small of Amicia's back, resting her head on the taller girl's shoulder. Amicia tensed slightly at the touch, before relaxing– she was always alert. Always on guard.

"You'll catch a cold if you stay out here any longer." Marion said, voice slightly hoarse. She'd had a particularly bad coughing fit the day prior, leaving her throat sore and body weak. The freezing temperatures never helped her poor lungs...

"You're one to talk." Amicia replied, and Marion lifted her head from her shoulder, raising one of her thick eyebrows.

Amicia just let out a soft chuckle, head turning back towards the view beyond the Château. That faraway look returned to her blue eyes, and Marion's lips turned down in a barely-noticeable pout. Her hand moved from the small of her companion's back to intertwine their fingers, Marion's warm palm flush against Amicia's cold one.

"What are you thinking about?" Marion asked, her voice quiet.

Amicia squeezed Marion's hand, her breath hitching, eyebrows furrowing. Marion had very quickly realized that Amicia didn't really open up to anyone in their little posse. The brunette was their natural 'leader' of sorts, like she was the Queen of their Château... and with that came the responsibility of being the responsible one. The unbreakable one– the one you could depend on no matter what.

But Amicia was human. She had feelings, feelings that shouldn't be locked in; no matter how strong she believed she was. She had needs, and wants, and days where she had the motivation to do nothing but contemplate her life... and Marion was always there, loyally at her side throughout it all.

Marion was there to wash away the blood from her hands after skinning what meager animals they were able to hunt, there to brush her hair after it had been left in that damned braid for nearly three months...

"Nothing..." Amicia said, before furrowing her eyebrows. She sucked in a deep breath, looking down at her slightly calloused hands.

"I... every night I dream of him." Amicia admitted, eyes finding Marion's. "I know he's gone, and... I can't stop my mind from constantly racing: was he afraid? Was... was it quick?"

The dark-haired girl gently squeezed her companion's hand, her lips morphing into a small frown. Amicia had told her about these dreams– nightmares, more like. The brunette woke up nearly every morning in a cold sweat, the sun still barely rising over the land.