Forever Green

~ 46 ~ Birds of a Feather Hide Together

Theiden knew this storeroom in particular from past festivals. Many stores that bordered the plaza had storerooms to reinforce supplies depleted by the heavy foot traffic that shops by the central plaza received. Quite a few of these rooms, sometimes no bigger than a closet, served as the perfect place for secret rendezvous between lovers. Knowing this, Theiden and Malisse had tried sneaking into this one on a Lunar Holiday several years prior, but had accidentally interrupted another couple trying to do the same and the resulting commotion had gotten both parties chased off by the manager on duty. Malisse had vowed to never go near the plaza again, she had been so embarrassed, but Theiden had found the whole situation rather humorous.

His knowledge of this room's location had proved useful tonight, but as Theiden gazed down at the sleeping form of the witch beside him, he knew they could not stay for much longer. Already, it must have been an hour, and the earlier panic that had sounded from beyond the storeroom door had quieted for the night. A store clerk was bound come by soon to douse the candles and padlock the door, and it would be best if they weren't still inside when that happened.

"Lenesa," he called softly, but she did not stir, and he noticed with some alarm the sheen of sweat upon her brow and dark lines creeping up her skin, just above her collar. The scar along her face had darkened, too, as though the first vestiges of whatever ominous inky magic flowed through her veins found it easiest to seep into her old wounds before spreading further.

She hadn't known if she was Turned, she had said. Theiden had to admit that she hadn't acted like she was Turned, and her explanation of the bonfire disaster had made sense. But he wondered if perhaps Lenesa was closer to Turning than she let on, or perhaps even knew.

Was there a way to reverse it?

He caught himself reaching out to trace the scar on her face, and quickly withdrew the offending hand. This wasn't something that could be easily wiped away. It was a deeper problem, one that dealt with her morality and magic that he barely understood. She had explained back in the mountains that she would be lost if she gave into the fear and pain in life and let it rule her actions. And if the lines on her skin were any indication, it seemed to Theiden that Lenesa was only a few days away from completely giving in.

"Lenesa," he tried again, but she only slumped further against him, hair sliding out from beneath her hood to cover her face. When he pushed the strands back, his fingers brushed her forehead, and he drew them away in shock. She was burning up.

There was no more time to waste. Theiden gathered the witch's dress beneath her knees and reached around her back to pick her up. It wasn't easy—she was taller than Malisse and had more muscle. Most witches he had seen had similar sturdy builds, perhaps a magical adaption for surviving alone in the mountains.

Once he managed to stand with the unconscious witch in his arms, Thieden shuffled to the storeroom door and nudged it open for a quick glance outside. The plaza was nearly empty now, with only the dead or wounded being lifted into stretchers to be returned home.

Praying the shadows were enough of a cover, Theiden slipped out from the storeroom and kept beneath the arched walkway as he hurried along the edge of the plaza to the closest set of stairs. Lenesa remained slumped against him, the hood doing its job of covering her hair and face.

The stairs were the hardest part, but Theiden managed them without incident. It was the narrow switchback streets leading back to his neighborhood that proved more risky, as there were no places to hide from passerby, and Theiden could only hope that no one would recognize him, and think that the woman in his arms was just drunk or a victim of the explosion.