One in the Same

Chapter Six

   The string of her bow hummed in her ear. She smirked as she felt the wind come off the fletch. The graze of the feather on her cheek. Her smirked widen as she saw the tip of her arrow disappear into the target. The further in it went, the bigger her smile grew. Finally, it stopped right at the base of the fletch.
   Sebastian clapped happily behind her. "Maith thu! Post maith, a ghrasta!"
   Cat turned and looked at him. "It could be better," she replied, but her smirk stayed.
   "I don't think it could get better than sinking an arrow all the way into the target," Sebastian replied taking the bow from her gently. The boy was a few years older than her. Five years her senior to be exact. And since they were young he never left her side. Where she was born to rule and defend and protect, he was born to read and listen and advise.
   "I've been hitting that target for years now. But there is always room for improvement," Cat replied tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear before Sebastian had the chance to do it for her. He was known for always brushing her hair back. But there were times when it wasn't wanted. Today was one of those times.
   "How can the most perfect thing be improved?" He asked looking into her eyes.
   She rolled hers. "Flattery this early in the morning? Did one of the books not feel you up right?" She smirked at the jest as she walked past him and walked to the table set up beneath the awning and laid her gloves down. She heard him sigh heavily behind her. Slowly, Cat turned back to him. "Oh you can be flattering and I can't be sarcastic?"
   "It's not that you can't be, Caitlin. Can't you just take a comment? Say 'go raibh maith agat' and go along with it?" He replied looking up at her. Those eyes she had seen so often they almost began to boar her.
   She rolled her eyes again. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe that's how I say 'go raibh maith agat'? By giving sarcasm?" Cat crossed her arms. "What's really on your mind, deartháir?" She saw that the old nickname seemed to almost pain him this time. Well, that's new.
   "Nothing," he said shaking his head and sighing again as he held her bow gently. "You have another tourny today."
   "Aye," she replied with a nod tilting her head and watching him.
   "What would...would you say if I told you I wanted to enlist?"
   The laughter that erupted from her at that moment sent the birds flying from the trees. Sebastian gave her a look and his grip tighten on the bow. "Ta bron orm. Ta bron orm." She said moving her hands in front of her face as if to fan herself. "You can't be serious?" She asked after gaining her composure.
   "I'm very serious, cat beag."
   "Don't call me that," she said shaking her head. "What do you possibly think you could win?"
   "Your hand," he replied with a shrug.
   Cat started laughing again. This time nearly doubling over. "Ni feidir leat a bheith dairire."
   "An feidir leat aon rud a ghiacadh dairire?" He replied giving her a look. "I've told you for years how I've come to love you."
   "Mar dheirfiúr, ceart?" Cat asked looking into his eyes. When he met hers in response, she knew the answer. "O seacht ifreann," Cat growled and turned away laying her hands on the table.
   Sebastian moved up behind her. "I could be good for you, Caitlin. I've already proved that. I know all of your secrets. And I've guarded them well. And I always will. Cat, none of these buachailli deserve you. And you know that as well as I."
   "Why do you think none of them have bested me?"
   "I'm telling you. I would be true to you. Never let you down. Never let the Riocht down." He laid his hand against the small of her back.
   Cat pushed his hand away as she turned and looked at him. "An Riocht. You have no military background. No knowledge of weaponry, save what you've read in your books. Oh aye, ya can tell me how to count coin and what method of negotiation you think would be best. An Riocht needs more than that. It needs a Ri that's not afraid to get his hands bloody, his boots dirty. That isn't afraid to go out with his men and do what must be done."
   "And what do you need?" Sebastian asked looking into her eyes.
   "Mo dheartháir," she replied plainly. "Mo chara is fearr by my side." She said praying her sincerity showed in her eyes.
   "While I hide my feelings for you? My love? Where is the fairness in that?"
   "Sebastian, you are the closest thing I have had to a deartháir. I don't have those same feelings for you. I never have."
   The pain that went through his eyes at that moment nearly brought tears to her own.
   "I shouldn't have said anything," he said shaking his head and pulling back from her. "I should never have told you."
   "Sebastian I didn't..." she reached for him.
   Sebastian shook his head and dropped her bow before turning and walking away. Cat caught it before it hit the ground.
   "Sebastian!" She called after him, looking up. "Sebastian!"

   Cat gasped for breath as she awoke on the sand. The waves crashing angrily over her moving her further up on the shoreline. Her claws dug deep into the wet earth as she crawled from the waters. Various boards and driftwood floated and bobbed along the waves until resting in their place around her. Her hair clung to her forehead dripping painful drops of salt water into her eyes. Finally, she felt hot coals filling her hands. Not coals, dry sand, she thought as she rolled on her back with a weak scream as it touched her. The sun beat down over her and she felt like she hadn't eaten in years. Her skin felt so tight that it would burst and rip around her bones. She laid there for a moment screaming in agony. Agony or relief. The water was cool, sure, but was the salt worth the warm of the sun. This is it, she thought to herself. I'll die here on the shores of England. No one will know where I am. What will become of me? No one will find me.
   A seagull screamed overhead, almost as if in response to her screaming as she laid there. The sand blistering her skin. She couldn't feel it healing this time. No, of course, it wouldn't. She was too weak for that. All she could do was lay there and let the sun cook her from above and the sand scorches her from beneath. Fire, she thought. Fire kills a vampire. Fire kills a pure born. What does the sun do to a changeling? It kills those too. Her screams were beginning to make her throat raw and pained. Pain. You can still feel pain. Next, she began to feel her hair drying. If it gets any dryer, it will burst into flame. "Your hair looks like flames in the sunlight," she heard Sebastian say beside her. How ironic is that? That my head will burst into flames in a matter of moments. She felt her skin growing dryer as well. Like parchment. That will burn too in time. She could already feel the sunburns starting to form. Only a matter of time now. Only a matter of time and there will be ashes in my place.
   The waves could barely touch her heels now. The tide was going out. Soon enough it wouldn't reach her at all. And it would all be over for her. Her gums were starting to hurt around her teeth now. Around her fangs. They would dry up, too. She began writhing in her pain. Lifting her hands and looking down at them. Skeletal bones wrapped in red, blistered parchment with razor-sharp claws at the end. They had once been alabaster hands that held a bow, a sword, the hand of a maither that would never know her daughter died in the sun on the shores of England with no one but seagulls around to hear her dying screams. Her tongue felt like a fat slug, but even that was dried up. Soon her screams would dry up too. Soon. Soon. Soon.

   Her hair brushed across her forehead in a cool breeze. She could hear waves nearby. Another fucking seagull. Slowly Cat opened her eyes and saw a million stars above. Twinkling, winking at her. The ríthe of another time. She lifted herself into a sitting position. The scream that came out was pathetic and barely louder than a mouse's squeak. She looked down at her hands again. Nothing had changed. The redness of the sunburns was more pronounced even in the darkness. Her entire body still felt like it was aflame. But she was alive. Or at least part of the living realm. Slowly, pain searing through her body, she turned to look behind her. A massive jungle looked back at her. She closed her eyes and blinked them open again. Nothing was clearer than before. She looked back down at the ground beneath her hand. The sand was no longer a blinding white as it had been in the sun. Now, it was a deep black nothingness.
   "Choose," she heard a voice say in the darkness. It sounded like her mother. "Die here? Or get up and fight. Choose."
   Cat closed her eyes again then opened them and glared up at the jungle. Slowly, with more pain, she moved her foot underneath her and lifted up. She went right back down with another silent scream. She glared up again and repeated the movement. This time she was able to move forward. She nodded. "Again," a voice that sounded like her father said proudly. She lifted her other leg, grimacing, and moved forward. Again. Again. Again. The jungle was starting to pinken. The sand beneath her gaining colour. She looked down then behind her in terror. The sun was starting to come back out of the low tide waves. She looked back ahead. She wasn't far from the jungle now. And it's strange branches promised shelter. A breeze blew towards her. As if it were calling to her. Promising shelter and safety. The sun barely touched her shoes as she pulled herself into the brush.