Ashes of Revenge

Chapter 15: Late Night Sentiment

Raven tapped her knuckle lightly against Colt's door. It was sometime after midnight, and Death had already given her the ritualistic nightmare. Her breathing was still slightly heavy and eyes watery. Instead of Death loosening up on the horrific dream, he was somehow making them more realistic.

Everyone had decided to stay in the village for an extra night so they would have more time to gain back all the supplies that had been lost in the fight.

She was still a little hungover, so drinking was out of the equation. And despite them no longer being in the Monstro Kingdom, the streets were just as lively at night with peasants finding multiple ways to gain some money.

If Colt was asleep, she didn't want to wake him, but she also didn't want to sit in her room alone.

Death was looking at her, adding to the awkwardness and making her want to walk away. Before her foot could even move, the door opened.

Colt tiredly leaned against the doorframe. His white undershirt loosely hung onto his figure, and some of his scars were more visible than they had ever been. Faint definitions of lean muscle showed on the exposed areas.

"Hey," his groggy and hoarse voice said.

"Sorry if I woke yeh. It's nothin'." Raven began to walk away, but Colt grabbed her arm and turned her back towards him, still half asleep. He quickly let go before he overstayed the touching limit.

"I haven't been able to sleep, yer fine. What's goin' on?" Now that Raven was presented with the question, she didn't know or want to answer.

"Nothin'." Raven began to walk away again.

Colt once again pulled her back. "Nightmare?"

Raven looked to the side and shook her head. "No," she finally answered. She began to walk away.

Colt once more pulled her back to him. An amused smile began to appear. "It's fine. C'mon." He motioned with his head for her to follow him. He held open the door, and Raven walked into the room, which was an exact replica of hers – a small bed against the center back wall with a lone chair in a corner. All of the windows had been opened, causing the deep jade curtains to blow with the faint breeze.

Colt took his foot and placed it behind the leg of a chair and kicked forward. The chair slid across the floor and stopped near the bed. Raven sat in the chair, and he sat on the bed.

"What's up?" Colt asked.

Raven picked at her lip and shrugged.

"How's yer hand?" Raven outstretched her hand to him. Colt gently grabbed her arm, careful not to touch her skin, and pulled it closer to the oil lamp. "Feelin'?"

"I can grasp things better an' feel slightly more, but," she paused as if searching for words, "it won't be tha same."

"It doesn't look infected, an' the tissue seems to be healin' well." Colt let go. He leaned the side of his head against the headboard, causing a few strands of hair to slide onto his forehead. The small amount of light made his skin that warm color she loved. A minuscule thought floated into her head, making her question if his hair was soft – if she would be able to feel it with her damaged nerves. The very thought of not being able to do so scared her. "Still hate Dara an' Victor?"

The question hung in the air for a few seconds.

"I don't know." Raven sighed.

Colt raised an eyebrow.

"They seem nice, but . . . it's just strange. I don't even know how I feel about tha situation."

Colt gave a faint smile. "Question?"