Eros

Breath in the Smoke - 65

"The humans should be by night time." Asair told Alora. She sat against the tree trunk, and from one of the higher platforms, could see dawn creeping in the distance. It brightened the night with touches of grey, and painted the horizon red with the crowns of the trees. Chieftain Vineclaw required plenty of preparations for his plan, but had less than a dozen Ferals to prepare them.

They worked through the night, and one by one, fell to exhaustion. She and Vera were the last to stay with Ma' Vine Claw to see the job done. Draining her powers felt as if she hollowed her body from the inside, and left it weak and fragile. Just nodding her head back at Asair was an effort. He flopped down beside her. Weariness settled in his features, lips brushing a sigh and eyelids hanging heavy.

"Ma' worked you hard, huh?"

She said nothing. Her struggle not to doze off against the tree was answer enough. She gladly would have had, but while her body begged for rest, her mind wouldn't quit torturing her.

"Excited for your first battle?" Asair said in a condescending tone that played her nerves like a little violin.

"Sorry, Warlord Asair, remind me how many battles you've been in?"

Asair chuckled, but the silent morning swallowed his laughter with haste.

"None of the scale that's expecting us tomorrow." He admitted. "Two thousand humans... A damned lot of them."

Alora looked away as her eyes hardened. It wasn't the number of the humans that scared her. It was the man who led them. Lord Raul wasn't gone from her mind since the day he set her village to fire and burnt her brother before her. As he drew closer, he stole more and more of her thoughts, pestering and festering.

A caress over her nape turned her gaze back to Asair. His fingers were strong and rough, and their sure touch across her skin resurfaced long buried memories. His eyes found hers, and his lips, ever so familiar. She removed his hand a moment later than she should have had. Damn nostalgia.

"As beautiful as you are, I'd rather catch some sleep than stay and watch you brood."

"Sounds like a wiser use of your time." Alora smiled at him, a worn, gentle smile. Asair got up, but lingered.

"You know, if you find yourself too bothered to sleep, feel free to interrupt mine." A slight smirk at the corner of his mouth, suggestive undertones creeping in the depth of his voice. "We won't be doing any sleeping, but I doubt you will regret it."

Alora snorted. "Just when I somehow managed to sympathize with you."

Asair laughed. "It's not your sympathy I want, Alora"

"You can keep wanting, you won't get anything."

"Keep my offer in mind." He turned away, raising his gaze to the brightening skies. "The day's still young. And it might be our last."

-

The Silverthorns sat around the carved wooden table of the Chieftain's hut. Laughter boomed through the hall, rising to one of her father's blatant jokes. She giggled herself, looking aside at him. His hair spilled to his shoulders, silver like hers, whereas her brothers were dark-haired like their mother. He turned to her, lowering a mug of root-ale from his chin.

She searched after his features, and found none. His face was a blur of smudged colors, evoking meaningless words. In panic, she looked after her mother. Dark hair jiggled with laughter around a faceless head. Her eyes darted on, her brothers, uncle, and cousin, finding not one face amongst her dining family.

"Sister." A voice called, ridiculing her in its agony. Despite the terror, she looked towards Eldridge. He sat closest to pa, the eldest of his sons. He ate and drank beside them as flames feasted on his body. He had a face. If you could call flesh melting over scorched bones a face.