MYOSOTIS
Chapter Four
I could not tear my eyes away from the young man standing in front of me. Short light brown hair, tall, he worn black pants, a black shirt with a vest without sleeves over it and wrist cuffs in leather tied with a lace.
But it was not his attire that had me staring at him in awe; it was his face, his breathtaking face. Never in my life had I seen such beauty as his. He had soft features, yet it did not take away any of his masculinity, the way I could see the muscle of his jaw tense. His lips seemed inviting, even from where I stood, they were full, the bottom one fuller then the other. His nose wasn’t like the ones of so many men that had been crooked over fighting, no, his one was straight and not too big, just the perfect size… maybe it was the pain that was creating delusions but everything about him seemed perfect.
All I could think at that very moment was that it didn’t matter anymore; I could die, after seeing such a man, I could die, happy with the most perfect last sight.
At this moment all I wanted was to take back anything I had said about attraction not being important. This man was the personification of attraction.
And he stared back at me too, with piercing blue eyes, almost as if he could read my thoughts and know my darkest secrets just by looking at me.
I did not know how long we stared at each other—it could have been eternity for all I care—but soon, much too soon, the young man’s head snap to the side, and he dodged an arrow coming his way, rolling on the ground.
And then he was fighting. It took a lot of strength to keep my eyes open and see what he was doing, but I wanted to. The way he fought was as beautiful as he was.
He quickly discarded his bow and arrows, unsheathing the sword hanging beside his hip instead and it was obvious to me that that sword was his preferred weapon.
The way he wielded, it could have me fooled that this was just an extension of his arm, as righteously part of his body as any other limb. He was spinning it around in his hand experimentally, striking fast any opponent that came his way. It never took much more than five blows for him to discard away the fighter.
He dodged and stroked, parrying and lunging. My head was too much in the clouds to make heads or tails of everything that was happening but one thing was certain; he was not losing. No one stood in his way, for they seemed as surprised as I had been when they would see him approach. Even the dog-bear who had been attacking the men before seemed to help him in his attack. At one point, I think he actually stabbed one of the Oaks that were in his way, though I cannot be sure, but that got me out of the clouds.
Friend of foe? He had saved me, but maybe he had only done it out of courtesy, maybe he just wanted everyone in my convoy dead too.
The pain was getting unbearable and all I could think was that this impromptus saviour was too good to be true. All I could think was that I would die.
I tried to reach for the arrow in my back but my attempt was as weak as my mind set at this point and I let my hand fall beside me, my cheek leaning against the dry dirt and closed my eyes.
I would die and there would never be an alliance between Clematis and Iris and all the first belief of Our Land would perish with me.
The dirt stuck to my face where the tears stained it.
The sun was warm on my back but I felt cold, too cold, and wet, and there was a strange salty smell, one I could taste in my mouth. Blood.
Would I see my mother soon? Would she be waiting for me in the Flora? Did the Flora even exist? Was this all just make-believe and would I simply disappear, like the flame blown off the candle, not even leaving a trail of smoke behind? I would know soon enough…
Sorry… sorry for giving up…
“Wake up, come on, wake up!”
What was that?
Close to my ear, I could hear it again “Wake up, please,” and then a little further away. “Mao, come back here!” The sound of someone whistling echoed loudly.
What did this mean? Was this the Flora?
“Please, please don’t die on me,” the voice begged. I did not know this voice, but it seemed helpless, and I felt bad for it.
Maybe I could just open my eyes, tell the voice it was too late and close them again. And then sleep, just sleep for a little while. A long while…
I opened one eye. Striking blue ones were staring back at me, dark blue line tracing around the iris, little speak of twinkling green around the pupil—I opened the other eye to get a better look.
The beautiful man…
“Do not fall asleep again, please,” he pleaded, his arms going around me, trying to move me from the ground.
What was he doing? I didn’t know how to heal an arrow wound but could he? Or was it already too late?
“My eyelids are so heavy,” I said, my voice barely louder than a breath. I doubted he could have even heard that.
My eyes flickered open and shut.
“No, no, stay awake, please”
What was the point, I wanted to ask. But I couldn’t. All I wanted was to sleep. And I did not even know this man, as handsome as he was.
“Look, look,” both of his hands clasped around my face, making me look at him. Doing so had me moving the muscles in my back and pain shot through me. “I know how tired you are, I know how hard it is to stay awake and I know it is hard to trust me, I understand completely, but these men that just attacked your convoy, there are more coming this way and you need… I need you to not fall asleep. Please.”
I wanted to trust him but trusting him meant relying on someone other than myself and I hadn’t done that in so long. Trusting him meant letting my guards down and that was not a simple task. Even if not trusting him meant death. Even if I barely had any guards in this situation. I had a hard time remembering my name, so sorting though what was happening right now was even harder.
Time wasn’t on my side and with the pain, obviously, coherency either. “Fine, just get me out of here,” I shuddered and fought against my eyelids.
He whistled loudly again, but it wasn’t exactly on the same tone that the previous time, and suddenly a horse appeared out of the woods.
At that point everything was becoming blurry, and my thoughts weren’t making sense, jumping from an image to another… the leaves of the Myosotis swaying with the wind, my mother smiling, a little girl with blond braids and green eyes running in the gardens, a white rose, and a little boy his eyes filled with unshed tears…
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Myosotis
AdventureEight White Seasons after Acacia's mother's death, the Low-Lily finally has to meet the man she will Ipomoea; be forever attached in sacred bounds, carving their names in the Myosotis, making them one. But she never reaches destination.