Poisoned Waters | ✓

|𝟏𝟏| "𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲"

𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 shot through her veins, as Monet's heart jolted to the ice, cold water that shocked her body back into consciousness. She gasped for air and then immediately coughed when some water got trapped in her throat. She wiped her eyes with her shoulders and looked up at the man staring at her with the bucket in hand.

She didn't say a word. Through Monet's blurred vision, she watched as he placed the bucket onto the ground and rested his arms on the gate. He seemed young, but it didn't seem to take away from his intimidation.

"You passed the border." She was taking the moment to take a good look at the man that she had only met the voice of.

Monet's expression remained unchanged. He pushed the key into the lock and opened the door, stepping in slowly. As he did, Monet gathered all the strength she barely had and lunged for him.

She flew backwards by a chain, she'd failed to even notice it. He didn't flinch, he tilted his head in amusement almost. "You Everwinterians are all so hostile, I'm not surprised that Noah didn't teach you any better," he scoffed.

"Noah didn't teach me anything," Monet muttered lowly. The hoarseness of her voice reminded her of the day she awoke in Everwinter, and the reason she was running. The horde.

"Well, then maybe you're just plain stupid." he retorted. The devised plan all came back to memory and it clicked on her face like an epiphany.

She was gazing upon Angelo.

"I know what you're planning, to send that horde straight for Everwinter. You're not gonna do it."

"I already have. The horde is moving now." Angelo shrugged nonchalantly, "I hope you know that Noah deserves it. I'm sure he didn't tell you that,"

"He doesn't. He just wants to protect his people."

"Aren't I doing the same? Valta has gone through enough," Monet growled. "What's your name, darlin'?" he cocked his head as he smiled.

Monet furrowed her brows, she wasn't going to give in. She dismissed him and crawled back to the wall, sitting back in the wet puddle and staring ahead of her.

Angelo watched her for a moment before he accepted her refusal to cooperate. He walked out of her view. Then he returned with a plastic cup of water. He offered it to her to drink, lifting it to her dry lips.

Her eyes flicked to his, he was patiently waiting for her to drink. "None of that water reached your mouth," he simply replied. She hesitantly drank the water, gradually gulping it all. He pulled the cup away before she choked. She coughed, feeling her throat gaining moisture once more. She wiped her mouth on her shoulder then turned her eyes away from him.

"I'll feed you later," he said as he got up again and went to lock the gate. Monet looked up at him briefly. She inspected his clean dressing, it complimented his physique, which was visibly muscular through his shirt; he certainly looked like a leader.

He met her eyes once more. He scoffed then left with the bucket in hand.

•

   She shivered with her sigh. It felt like it'd been an eternity, but three hours had passed. Angelo hadn't returned.

She was certain she was experiencing hypothermia from her drenched clothes and the unbelievably low temperature in the cellar. Or was she already losing her mind?