The Winged

14- Embrace

I simply fell to my knees.

Never in my life had my chest made such wheezing sounds, straining rasps, so starved of air I felt as though I was choking. From head to toe I burnt. I ached. Running around the tribe with Ronnie was fun— this was not. Running and knowing that your life depended on it was a kind of numbing panic that I hadn't known possible. Adrenaline had coursed through muscles I didn't know I had. And now I was drained— no air, no strength. Both me and Aspen had crumpled to the floor at the same time and were gasping for breath in the same way now. I knelt, coughing and almost doubled-over, while he lay flat on his back.

The two of us were shrouded in the thick leaves and blooms of a thicket. Everything smelt of pollen, the dirt damp between my fingers and broken by waves of plant-root. Even a lizard would struggle to find us in these huge plants; it would be impossible for a human.
Regaining some breath, I sat up and leant against the nearest flower's stalk. It struck me instantly, even over the rushing of blood in my ears— the calm. I tried to hush my breath to listen. Birdsong filled the gaps that should have been silent, melodies in the wind, droning wings lazed overhead as a bee fussed over a flower-head. No shudders. I gasped another breath and let my head lull back. No snaps.
The human— was he gone? Had we really outrun him? It had all happened in a blur... One second I was trapped inside the glass, the next Aspen had broken me out and we were running. Running running running, as if we would never stop.
And I stabbed Sam with an arrow! I smiled. Then stopped. You stabbed him with an arrow.

I couldn't believe I was sitting here. Even now it didn't seem real. The pair of us just took off running through the mess of plants and rocks without knowing where we were even running to. Without caring. If it meant getting away from him, we might have run straight off the edge of a cliff. We had only stopped now because we physically couldn't go any further. The thought of single step more made me want to be sick— I though my legs might turn to mush if I tried it.
And now, he was here. My friend, who had I longed to be with for countless days, whose name I had called out in desperation... it couldn't possibly be real. He was here.

"Aspen." I wheezed between breaths, "I can't believe it's... it's really you."
The boy sat up from the floor at the sound of my voice. His cheeks were flushed red when he faced me, sweat dampening his vest. I stared at him. Aspen was a mess. His cloak had been torn in places by the grip of thorns, leaves in his blonde hair, dirt smeared under his eyes and clumps of mud stained over the knees of his trousers. The dirty face was expressionless.
"How did-" I took in another snatch of air, "How did you find me?"

It took him a while to respond. The two of us sat breathlessly in the shade, maybe an arm's width away from each other. In all the time he spent trying to catch his breath, Aspen's gaze never once moved from my face. He did nothing but look at me. Yet there was a distance to his eyes, a blankness that made me wonder whether he had even heard my question. It was a relief when he finally blinked. I watched him take in a tiny breath of air and hold it. I watched him blink again... then again, again, blinking until his eyes were fluttering open and closed. All the blinking wasn't enough to stop the tears from spilling over.

Before I knew what he was doing, the boy had thrown himself forwards and grabbed me. Aspen gathered my whole body up into his arms without so much as a word of warning and pressed me to him. My mind went blank. His chest was jumping against mine from his panting. The heat he radiated tingled surreally on the bare skin of my arms, my cheek... I think had forgotten the warmth of him.
He was still gasping for breath even as he held me. Wheezing, haggard little sounds whistled in my ear. And he really was holding me; There was an arm woven around my waist that nudged us closer together, his other arm went under my shoulder and up, across my back, where the boy clasped a fistful of my matted hair.
"Azure." He whispered. His chest shuddered when he repeated my name again. Fingertips brushed the back of my neck. So gentle. It was that which cleared my mind of fog and brought me back to him— him who was barely breathing as he spoke. "Oh gods, Azure..." Aspen pressed me into the curve of his arms, "I've got you."