The Necronomicon

Chapter Twelve

They'd settled into a routine now. Every single morning Meredith and Frederick started the day with target practice (after over three weeks, Meredith still couldn't hit the tree). They'd walk for a few hours, then they'd eat some lunch. Frederick always hunted, while Meredith usually stayed with the bags and either collected the berries that Frederick had shown her were edible, or went for a swim. Then they would reconvene, eat, and walk for the rest of the afternoon.

Meredith was starting to notice a growing trend — every day, they walked a little less. Often it was because they spent too much time talking near the beginning of each and every day. It was only on a day a few weeks after they'd begun trekking together that they didn't walk at all, and it was Frederick who addressed the issue first. "We need to go faster. We're being lazy." He said, and she smiled lightly.

"We're overindulging," She offered, and he nodded quite forcibly. If they were to make it anytime soon, they needed to pick up the pace. He took her knapsack for her as she adjusted her dress's bodice, pulling at it.

She reflected on what she'd said. We're overindulging. She smiled. Or, at least, I am. She brightened in his presence — a new feeling for her. And she loved talking to him, even though he frequently mocked her. Frederick hadn't disagreed with what she'd said, that they were overindulging, and he'd taken her bag for her, to help her. Chivalrous.

Now, whenever she thought about marriage, or about the white lacy dress she had in her knapsack, her mind turned to him. Meredith wondered whether he thought the same as her. What was Frederick thinking about right now? She bestowed a smile upon his back as he strode a few steps in front of her.

Frederick tried not to focus on Meredith, even as she walked largely beside him, her hand swinging just by his. If he really thought about her, like he really wanted to, he might never be able to think about anything else ever again.

"I honestly don't mind taking my bag," Meredith smilingly informed him, and he carefully passed it to her, their fingers briefly touching. It was like a spark of electricity raced throughout her entire body. She could feel the energy from that small touch pulsing through her veins, faster than the speed at which her heart was beating, and when her eyes met his she knew he was feeling the same thing. Frederick didn't speak, didn't crack a joke, didn't say something controversial to annoy her. Instead he gazed at her in silence. They'd stopped walking, seemingly lost in their own world, eyes trained on one another.

Finally Frederick spoke. "Target practice?"

Meredith nodded mutely, trying to push the tangled, messy ball of emotions within her further down. She needed, now, to focus on hitting a target with Frederick's bow. If she could do this, she might feel strong enough to let all her walls crumble. To hell with it — if she even hit the goddamn tree she'd be pleased, ready to bare her soul.

He was walking with deliberation, stopping at a tree to create a new target. Every time they walked on, Frederick created a new one. His hand dripped with mud, and he shook it, so most of it slipped off in large lumps. She turned away from him slightly. I will hit the target. I will. She promised herself repeatedly, closing her eyes for a moment. "Are you ready?" He asked her, setting their bags down and digging out the bow.

She paused for a few moments before reaching out to take it from his outstretched hand. Meredith wanted to take this all in, to savour it — the feelings she had, right at her very core, the target ahead of her, even the grip of her feet to the ground. She was aware of herself, of her breathing, her stature.

Meredith raised her arms, holding the bow in them tightly. She knew Frederick wasn't looking at her, instead staring at the target, but she snuck a quick glance at him anyway before she let go.

The arrow whipped through the air, sailing straight at the oozing target. Meredith watched with bated breath as it flew ever closer to the tree. It seemed to take hours, when really it was only seconds.

Her eyes widened massively, and she gasped audibly, staring at the arrow. It had struck the exact centre of the bullseye. She stood, stock still, then slowly spun around to meet Frederick's eyes.

He was smiling easily at her, and he opened his mouth to speak to her. "Meredith, I —"

She dropped the bow quickly, and before she could doubt her decision, stepped towards him on delicate, light feet, pulling him closer to her, so there was barely a millimetre of space between them. In one swift movement, she pressed her lips firmly to his, not caring when his hand, still covered in mud, grazed her dress. At that moment, all that Meredith cared about was him. She hadn't even considered a scenario where he wouldn't kiss her back, but he did.

She released him, and he looked her in the eyes, grinning snarkily. "You did it, Meredith. You hit it — you hit the target, right in the very middle."

She beamed at him joyfully. "Yeah, but I also kissed you."

"And to you that's a bigger achievement than hitting the bullseye, which you've been attempting to pierce for a few weeks now?"

She couldn't stop herself from smiling. "Of course."

His lips brushed against hers again, softly, almost carefully. It was soft, sweet, tantalising. It seemed like the start of something more.

To Frederick, it felt like life.

As they kissed, Meredith allowed herself to like him. When other men had embraced her, and kissed her, she hadn't felt a thing. But here, now, she never wanted to stop.