Shadows of the Woods

Chapter 21

I ran for what felt like hours.

I ran until my sides burned and my throat was parched, and I kept running even as the tears rained down my face and painful sobs tore from my chest. Trees and various vegetation whipped past, but I was running so fast that everything blurred together into a jade green blob. It wasn't until a sudden thought occurred to me that my feet slowed and stumbled.

I kissed Apollo.

This wasn't usually a surprising occurrence, but the realization made me trip over my own feet. My momentum made me hit the ground hard, and then I found myself rolling down a grassy knoll before coming to a stop. I didn't get up after I stopped; new scrapes stung my palms and my knees, but I simply closed my eyes and curled into a tight ball.

I'd kissed Apollo! I was probably sick now too! What was the point in leaving him, if I was going to die too? Shouldn't we die together at least? My heart fluttered at the thought - I could go back to him, and we didn't have to be apart when he eventually died.

At that thought, I flashed back to one of the last things he told me: he wouldn't have us being a tragic love story. Apollo wouldn't accept us dying like star-crossed lovers in the brittle shell that used to be his home. The last thing he wanted us to become was some old sad song.

After a few moments, my breathing slowed down and my heart began pounding at its normal rate, and I stilled myself cautiously to see if I felt ill in any way. My breathing was fine, and my skin didn't feel sticky with sweat, even after I'd been running so long. I felt fine, actually, if we ignored my breaking heart.

Was I getting sick at all? Maybe since I wasn't a vampire, the sickness took longer to manifest itself in my body. In a few hours, I would start to feel the effects, perhaps.

Or maybe I was immune.

My eyes fluttered open. I knew it wasn't impossible; Roan had been impervious, even when he'd been kissed by his dying friend. And Prenjaw - the mongool had expected to die, especially after the girl he loved had succumbed, but the sickness never came.

But what was so unique about them that they should live? Would Castrone be so careless that he would let people slip through the cracks?

At the thought of the witch, my blood began to boil. This was all his fault - this was all because of him! My hands clenched into fists; my beloved Apollo was dying because of that wretched, immature fiend, and there was nothing I could do about it. I curled even more into myself, whimpering as I remembered Apollo's glassy eyes and feverish skin - had it all been coming to this anyways? Had Apollo been the target the entire time?

It was Abaddon that had unleashed Castrone's fury, but from what I could tell, he didn't just come up with this disease on the spot. This kind of plague would take time to culture, to perfect - had this been what Castrone had been working on the last century or so? Maybe he'd been planning on releasing it anyways, and Abaddon had simply forced him to jump the gun.

I felt so cold without Apollo. I ached to go back to him, to curl up with him and hold him until he left - but he would be so disappointed in me. I wasn't afraid of him being angry - he was rarely ever angry at me, which made him remarkably saintly seeing how infuriating I was - but it was his disappointment that I wouldn't be able to stand.

But why would he send me away, just to kiss me and possibly send me to my own death? What was the point? What was it he wanted me to do?

I sighed and rolled so I was on my back. When I did, my hand touched something hard; I looked over to see that I was on the edge between the grass and a pebbled shore. For the first time, I registered the sound of rushing water; before my eyes, the river rushed by with a gentle roar - it sparkled in the dotted sunlight, and wound away outside my line of sight.