Without comment from Sharon, the day passes smoothly, and I begin to form a routine. The next few days are similar, with Sharon sending me on regular trips into town. I can feel the muscles in my legs beginning to tone as I spend my days walking the town, and my nights racing along the rooftops. My arms, also, form taut muscles as Finn and I continue to meet at the old lumbermill for sparring sessions. Our friendship grows as we meet night after night.
One night, only four nights removed from my run-in with the innkeeper's wife, while sparring in the old lumber mill, I notice a peculiar familiarity. I deflect Finn's long blade, which he holds with both hands. It's his left arm that I notice. Lunging forward, I sheath my right blade and grab hold of Finn's left arm by the wrist, holding his blade away from me with my left short sword.
My memory flashes to my nightmarish memory from a few nights ago. I remember the arms that reached through the fire, and I remember the left arm specifically, because it was the arm I could see better. I rub my thumb along Finn's palm and he opens his hand.
"If you wanted to hold my hand," he says quietly. "All you had to was ask."
Blushing slightly, I drop Finn's arm with a shove, taking a step back and disengaging my blade from his with a shing! I turn my back to him and take a few steps away, mind swirling. I step toward the rich green forest that runs along the open wall of the deteriorating lumber mill. Spicy scents of blue spruce and pine grow fainter as I become accustomed to them, but still sting my nose as I breathe heavily. Sweat tickles my spine, spreading involuntary shivers across my back. The one broad scar that remains on my otherwise scar-less back twinges, as if trying to tell me something. My arms, grotesquely scarred, prickle with pain.
Not looking over my shoulder, I speak to Finn quietly. "You pulled me out of that. It was on fire. I recognize your arm."
I half expect him to question me, confused. Instead, he says, "I wondered how long it would take you to remember."
I turn to look at him and find a mix of expressions on his face: fear, shame, regret, and desire, almost a sort of loving look. I quickly divert my gaze, awkward and vulnerable. I have a feeling that our friendship goes beyond my time at the blacksmith's, but how, I don't know. "That's all I remember." Hope floods his eyes, against his better judgement apparently, because he quickly schools his features into a neutral expression. "What? Is there more to remember?"
Finn moves toward me, stopping when he's only a few inches from me. I can feel his breath on my face. My heart races as his fingers brush my empty hand. Something is wrong. There's more to this than he's letting on. Yet, there is a part of me that craves his closeness. "If that's all you remembered, I should be happy again."
"Ugh, you two again?" A voice sounds from the side of the lumbermill. Instead of unsheathing my second blade, I return my first blade to its scabbard, turning with Finn, who keeps his sword drawn, to face the newcomer. A loud clatter follows the disgusted words, and a figure stumbles into the clearing. "How many times do I have to tell ya to get out of my head?" He starts to stumble away, but turns again to face us, as if checking to see if we'd left.
His eyes are unfocused, but, even from this distance, I can tell they're bright green and intelligent. Or, they would be, if this man weren't slobbering drunk. The man, twisted between walking away and looking back at us, stumbles, laughing violently. Through his torn clothes, I see that the man is well-muscled and tan. I wonder what drove him to drunkenness. His hair is matted and long, falling to his chin in ropes. "That's strange," the man laughs. "You usually leave when I tell ya to." With an abrupt finish to his laughter, the man vomits, the smell of strong drink and bile permeating the air.
Finn sheathes his sword, deeming the drunk as harmless, but does nothing more. There is a curious expression on his face, and his gaze flits to me. I turn back to the man and wonder why he would recognize us.
