Rambunctious ✔

Chapter 2

The strange Alpha held her hand as he guided her through the field. They quietly tiptoed to not disturb the Alphas- or a traitorous Astéri for that matter. Once they were safely out of the field, Fire turned to face him.

"How benevolent of you! Thank you for rebelling against King Myron to free me." Fire exclaimed.

"How derisory of you," the stranger smirked, "you think that I am an Alpha?"

"Well, you have lilac eyes so you are certainly not an Astéri." She concluded.

"I am not one of those oafs!" He growled, "do not even compare me to them you imbecile!"

"You don't have to be cantankerous about it, Sir." She held her chin up, "I may have mistaken you for an Alpha but that does not make me an imbecile."

The stranger simply ignored her and roughly grabbed her by the arm. "We have to leave before dawn breaks. Once the Alphas notice that their chosen one is gone they will surely look around this area first."

"How do you know that I am the chosen one?" She fearfully asked, "nobody knows except for the head masters and I."

The brute continued ignoring her and calmly dragged her further out.

"Where are we going?" Fire asked, and to her surprise he finally answered.

"Far away."

"That's not very specific..." She muttered. "If you're not an Alpha nor an Astéri, what are you then?"

The brute suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around to her. His mesmerizing lilac eyes held many indescribable emotions. The kind of eyes that only speak the language of riddles. Like a parallel universe, his eyes held infinitive amounts of possibilities and she wanted to live each one them. Perhaps that is the only way that she can unlock his mysterious aura. Because without words, she couldn't figure him out. Words are the code to understanding. We speak to show other people a part of us. We engage in pointless discussions hoping that one day, someone will seduce our brains enough to stimulate and participate in verbal brain-love-making. Was this why he piqued her interest? Was she craving intellectual fornication?

Without saying a word, he approached her and she felt his cold breath on her face. Snow started falling again and blue butterflies danced around them as she anticipated his next move. "I am none," he whispered in her ear, "an identity is not who your kind is, my dear, an identity is what you create. And I choose to belong to nobody so that every person I meet creates a unique image of me in their mind. And one day, I will become many identities formed by other's thoughts and guesses."

"What if I do not allow my thoughts and guesses to form your identity that may or may not be true?" She softly whispered back.

"You don't have a choice," he smiled, "you see once we meet somebody new our brains automatically form an image of who we think they are or who we want them to be. This is also known as a first impression. However, with me you're always going to be stuck in a whirlwind of first impressions because I will never tell you who I am."

Before she could answer him, he turned around dragging her after him. The blue butterflies followed them everywhere like moths drawn to a light. Was he their light? But light is supposed to be warm and welcoming. But his body was too cold and inhabitant and she was not going to be his uninvited guest. So she silently walked behind him.

"Cassander!" Myron shouted. "Where is she god dammit?"

"Your honour, as I explained earlier the soldiers I ordered to watch her were found dead this morning and Fire is nowhere to be found." Cassander tried to control his shaky voice.

"You expect me to believe that you did not help her escape?" Myron approached him and grabbed him by the collar, "you think that we did not notice that you are in love with her? You must have helped her escape!"

"Your majesty I swear by the seven holy stars that I have nothing to do with this!" Cassander cried.

"Little brother, leave the boy alone." Gaios pleaded. "If he had anything to do with this I would have sensed it."

"If you are an almighty seer then why can you not tell us where she is?" Myron clenched his teeth.

"It does not work like that," the old deer replied, "I can only sense what will happen in the future. All I saw was Fire running away with a cloaked being and it was certainly not Cassander."

"Damn it!" Myron cursed finally letting go of Cassander, "If the other side finds out about how powerful she is we will lose this war." He dropped to his knees. "Everything that I worked for, the kingdom I built in my dreams, the history that I already wrote on every inch of my body for our grand children to learn will be nothing but illusion."

"Don't lose hope your majesty," Isidoros put his hand on Myron's shoulder, "we will eventually find her. We will use all of her power to destroy the pit and those bastards will slowly die as you enjoy the scenery from above."

Fire and the brute man found an isolated- what seemed liked abandoned, hut and he finally decided that it was far away enough for them to relax and spend the night in. They cautiously entered the cottage. Spider webs decorated most of the ceiling which made her squint. The kitchen looked dusty and old. There was one bed and one sofa which made the place look even more lonely.

"I'll take the bed and you can sleep on the sofa." The brute stated.

"What?" Fire raised one eyebrow, "gentlemen are supposed to offer the most comfortable option for ladies. Where are your manners?"

"I am not a gentleman," he sighed, "I saved you so the least you can do is shut up and let me sleep." He jumped on the bed causing a cloud of dust to rise above him. He closed his eyes and said, "If you wish to sleep on the bed you can join me. But I am not sacrificing my comfort for your sake."

"I am not going to sleep near a stranger!" Fire argued.

"Fine," he spoke with his eyes still closed, "goodnight then, my wench."

He called her a wench. But how come an insult sounds very sweet from his lips? Usually she would fight back and defend herself, but it did not sound like an impolite word anymore. This stranger was making her relearn her vocabulary. No longer did negative adjectives exist if he so choose to describe her. A wench now had the same definition as my beloved, my dear, or my fair lady. So she slowly walked over to the sofa and laid down without saying anything. She laid down on her side to watch him. Even in his sleep he looked sophisticated. Every breath he took had a rhythm, his nostrils followed a specific set of notes as if his nose was a Maestro guiding them. His body was playing an artistic musical orchestra simply by breathing in and out. The conductor must have lowered his baton because suddenly the performance stopped. She looked up and noticed that he was now staring at her.

"I apologize," she blushed, "I did not mean to creepily watch you, I... I do not know. I tend to stare when I am unoccupied to see if something will catch my interest."

He grinned, "oh, you seemed very interested. Would you like to share what you were thinking?"

"Why do all of your actions seem to be calculated?" She asked after few minutes of silence.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, earlier when we were walking I noticed that you took specific steps. Your feet were following a three steps beat, then you would slow for a second, and then walk for another three steps before slowing down again." She sounded whimsical, "and in your sleep, you follow a certain tempo of breathing in and out."

"You are a very sharp wench," he remarked.

"Are you going to answer my question then?"

"No." He quickly answered and went back to sleep.