take me to happier places

awakening (chapter 2)

the sun greeted the dusty Avenue that was shaded fairly by the leaves of the pines. Faerila forest was a sight to see at the earliest of day, especially during sunrise and sunset. of course the people who resided here never woke up before that time, since they remained awake even past one in the morning; telling the most interesting stories around the campfire. but that fire was burned out and a new fire were bound to be started later on in the day. and around here, sometimes that were the only motivation for some of the animals to awaken.

however, there was a rule.

whoever woke up first were the person to gather the berries and meats for today's campfire session. if it were to take all morning and afternoon, then it shall. some of the people fake their sleep, just to waver themselves out of such task; knowing they could take ages to capture resources and such. but Ryon didn't care. he liked to be alone, and submerged into the nature. so he always were the one first to wake.

native hands gripped against the blanket inside of his tent, feeling as the radiant rays of the sun seeped through the fabric of his tent. it were fairly cold in the morning, so usually his sleeping attire consisted of a ebony long-sleeved sweatshirt, as well as flannel pants that touched the dusty ground. of course accompanied by cool-grey socks.
the deer boy sat up inside of his tent, putting on a thick, olive green jacket with fur at the hood. as well as black jeans that hugged at his ankles nicely. and his black converse.
tightening the bow, his torso lay between the string and the handle, as well as manmade arrows hung at his back; completed with a hunting knife that his father gave to him when he were just a child. just a few weeks before the incident happened to where Ryon had to escape.

peering out of his tent, his antlers just grazed the top of the temporary home as he saw Kitta sitting at a log with her personal knife. it had something engraved on the handle of it, but it were the color of maroon. it wasn't her name; Ryon could tell for sure.
his chocolate iris' laid upon her blueberry tinted hair, taking a seat at the end of the log and looking to her;

" is everything okay? " he asked.

" i am afraid " she replied back, not attempting to look to the boy.

" we all are afraid "

" Prize, i want to die "

and finally those jet black eyes peered upon his soul, almost as if she looked right through him. he shook his head, gently smiling at the nickname she had given the boy just suddenly.
it were clever; a deer were a prize if you killed it.

turning slightly in his seat toward her, their knees almost touched until she moved hers away. no longer did her eyes glare at him but at the emptiness of the grass that accompanied her feet. it were quiet, and she were pure. because this was heaven, and she were an angel. because this was a broken world and she were a broken girl. but so was Ryon; being a bent boy. but he wasn't broken. trying to peer unto her glossy eyes, he failed to do such a task. looking amongst the wooden handle of the knife, and seeing as it was carved to say; 'Franklin'.
Ryon opened his mouth, and spoke;

" we all want to die here. but we cannot. i know th-- "

" i can! " she stood, as her voice shreaked like a hawk, " and i will. that is the only way i could see meeting my fate. i know i will never meet a boy who will love me, i know i will never be loved. i cannot live anymore and that is why i am awake. i need to die. now "

Ryon gazed upon at her features as she stood from that log and began her way toward the trees;

" Kitta. "

" please, Ryon, i want to go. just let me. "

" no. "

and she stopped. with that two letter word she snapped back around herself, and glared upon his eyes. a streak of water pushed themselves amongst the edge of her eyelash as she held that knife in her hand. gripping the blade instead of the handle. carmine liquid greeted the tip of her boot, as she peered upon his eyes.

she were hurting. and this werent the normal routine to wake up to. with caution, the deer approached the feline as she continued to grip harder;

" please. you're the strongest one here. "

and with that he unfolded her bloodied hand and retrieved the knife. his hand now the color of the pits of hell, holding onto the burning object that were called a knife;

" instead of cutting into yourself, we can go hunt. together. i always did that when i were on the brink of uncertainty "

these awakenings were usually filled with cool air and a cool attitude. not the accompany of human blood were to be met on occasional mornings. foggy air surrounded the camp, pushing the dark violet locks out of her eyes;

" all right, Prize. we go hunt, "
she smirked,
" but don't cry when i kill one too many rabbits than you "

a small smile curled his personality upwards;

" impossible "