Hope

Chapter 8-Him

Steam escaped the dish in which soup was brewing under the pressure of fire beneath.

He waved his hand in front of his face to prevent his eyes from catching it as he bowed his head and attempted to look at the wooden pieces on fire.

Some were scattered urging him to adjust them in place.

A delicious aroma of soup wafted his nasal cavities and he pulled the lid off and eyed the contents of dish inside.

Seemingly satisfied, he grabbed the bowl and started filling it with soup. Next he picked up a platter which had a wheat breads covered in a warm cloth in order to maintain heat and put them on a rock in front of his cottage that he often used as a table. Couple of other smaller rocks were surrounding it, one of which he occupied exhaling a relieved breath which immediately danced before his eyes in the form of mist as if bidding him farewell before departure.

Morning breeze was something he always loved but in such cold weather, he preferred warmth of sun more.

He eyed the sun that was peaking from behind the mountains and seemed to be still half asleep showering him with heat not as intense as he craved.

Rubbing his hands together, he looked around at the tall trees among which white clouds flew away as pure wings of angels.

Looking down he could see the narrow path leading down low enough to present him the look of entirety of his solitude.

He tore his gaze away from the scene that he drank everyday and for some reason it managed to bring him the fresh wave of agony every time.

It seemed like a reminder of hell in his small heaven.

Reminder of hell in small heaven.

Getting up, he made his way to the cottage to wake her up.

Pushing the door open which groaned in response making him quickly stop it midway as if not to wake her up this way, he entered and squinted his eyes to adjust his vision.

Inside it was warm and dark.

Exactly what she needed for a good night sleep after she fell asleep during their conversation.

His steps came to an abrupt halt as he saw crumpled blanket on the rug where she slept but there was no sign of her.

He frantically looked around but there was not much room to look in. After all it was a small cottage. Rushing outside he looked around wondering where she might have left.

His eyes fixed on a narrow path that led downward and for a fleeting moment his thoughts wavered to her stumbling down that path alone in wilderness but he quickly retreated the track of his thoughts.

When did she leave the cottage and Why did he not notice?

His mind was on haywire and another thought popped in his mind.

No! It cant be.

He rounded the cottage to go to the backside, wary eyes searching around and then they caught a glimpse of something  somewhere down that cliff. His movements had frozen in place.

Right under the gushing fountain, she was basking in the steam erupting every single drop of water, wearing his shawl that he covered her shoulder with last night.

Jumping from one place to another with awe spread all over her face in the most innocent manner that mimicked child's purity.

Her midnight hair flew backwards joyously creating a strange contrast against pure white fountain.

His eyes were stuck on them. She tugged them back as she lowered herself and ran her hand in hot water which flew upward, few playful drops soaking her in the process which her lovely eyes didn't mind and played along with smile so caught up in the moment.

He seemed to be lost in the moment as well.

He saw her crouching down and running her hand in the water for sometime. Then she uncovered her sleeves from under the shawl and then she cupped her hand filling water inside.

His eyes helplessly followed the movements of her hand as she raised one, bending her arm and let the water flow down on her sleeve washing her forearm in the process. She repeated the process with the other arm and his eyes followed the ritual as a meditation.

Then she filled her hands with water and washed her face. Her eyes stayed closed as she ran her fingers through her hair, swiping them back which exposed her neck to her hands as well as to his eyes.

Her fingers continued their path as she ran the back of her fingers from front of her neck to back and then to front in a swift manner which left him awestruck.

His voice was lost somewhere in his throat and he forgot the purpose of looking for her.

He just kept looking. Helplessly.

As if she sensed the pull of his soul calling on to her, she looked up and their gazes clashed creating a havoc in his world.

No words left his throat.

For a moment she kept reading his face and then looked down, adjusted her shawl, now covering her previously exposed arms under the warmth of his shawl and stood up making her way to him.

______

She shivered as she sat cross legged on a rock, using it as a seat in front of rock table, opposite which he was perched down.

She eyed the sun longingly as if to urge it to burn more brightly.

He slowly pushed the bowl of soup in between them from which heat magnetically rushed towards her, getting her attention back towards it eagerly. He uncovered the wheat breads, pulling out one and then folded the cloth back over the other, putting first on top.

She was eyeing the food silently.

There was hesitation hiding behind her lips.

"Dive in." His voice held smile much to his surprise.

This seemed to relax her a bit but she snuggled more in the shawl and blew few hair strands off her face.

"Am I supposed to eat that with soup?" She shifted uneasily looking at wheat bread.

"I assumed you would like to fill your stomach with more than just a soup so I cooked these breads to consume with soup." He explained knowing fully well how new and strange the idea might be to her.

"I dont know how-uh," she appeared to be battling with her confused thoughts.

She must be feeling distressed.

He tore a small piece of wheat bread and dipped it in the soup long enough to wet it with soup contents and then c
leaned forward, bringing it to her lips. Their eyes met and both seemed to be struck in surprise.

She was surprised at his outstretched hand holding bread before her lips.

He was surprised at himself wondering what made him do this.

Then suddenly he was nervous.

Then it felt like he was losing himself in her eyes fixed upon his.

He didn't realize when she bent slightly forward and opened her mouth to take the bite in. When her lips brushed over his fingers tips was only when he came back to senses.

A warm brush of her lips.

She chewed silently looking down at her lap unaware of the feelings that erupted in his chest.

He wasn't familiar with them either.

Not in this way.

He needed to feel more of it. He felt this rising urge inside to satisfy her.

So he kept feeding her.

Forgetting his own hunger.

°~~*~~°