A Heart Of Ashes - RHYSAND STORY

◘Neldë◘

The next day, sometime around noon, Y/N was reapplying the leaves on Rhysand's wound while the dragon slept. He had only opened one eye to see what she was doing before closing it again, uninterested. The previous night had left him utterly exhausted, but at the very least his breathing had evened out, and he no longer looked as if he were on the verge of death. For the time being, he was stable.

Feeling more comfortable with his condition, Y/N had left him that morning to return to her home, so she could tend to her animals and retrieve the sealant for his wing, which she was now applying. Luckily, the tear was towards the end, and she was able to reach once he'd laid the appendage out for her. She balanced herself on his arm as she reached down and poured the thick substance down the torn area, and then she'd gone under the wing to spread a layer from the bottom. Almost immediately after she'd applied the thick, gooey material it had begun to harden. It felt sticky on his skin, and he had expressed his disgust when he'd first seen her pouring it on, but other than that he allowed her to work. The sooner he could heal and move, the sooner he could go back to the mountain and take his revenge. Now that they had no more black arrows, there was nothing they could do to harm him.

By the time she had finished applying the sealant, he was fully awake and staring out of the cave as the gentle afternoon sun drifted in onto his face. The only sounds other than his breathing were the sounds of nature: birds chirping, the gentle wisp of the long grass as the wind glided over, and the soft whisper of the leaves in the trees. Y/N could be heard humming a quiet melody, her voice like sweet honey that rolled from her tongue in graceful notes. Briefly he had wondered what tune she was emitting, but he hadn't asked her. He felt the need to ignore her, like her existence mattered not, even though she was the one and only thing that had kept him alive. Frankly, it embarrassed him to look so weak in the face of such a small creature, and in order to maintain his bruised ego he had resorted to giving her the silent treatment, refusing to appear interested in anything she did or said.

At some point, she had left again, taking both horse and wagon with her. He wasn't sure how long she had been gone, for he had fallen asleep shortly after she had gone. All he knew was that when he woke up, the sun had begun to go down, and she had returned. It was when he saw the four moose in the wagon did he realize she had gone out hunting. Their antlers had been severed, which had been laid off the to the side, leaving small boney stubs on their heads. Apparently, his wonder showed in his face, because when she looked at him she began to explain.

"The antlers come in handy."

He rolled his eyes.

"I don't waste a kill. Neither will you." She motioned to the four moose. "Eat. I know it's not much for your size, but until you can hunt on your own I'm afraid this will have to do. After all, you've spent days without consuming anything but your ego, so I doubt this will be a problem."

He scoffed at her. "I am not the only one here who appears to have an ego, Elf. At least I have a right to mine."

"Oh, do you?" she challenged, as she came to stand boldly in front of him. Her stature was haughty and proud, shoulders squared back and chin held high without fear. "Funny. That is not what I saw when I found you clinging to life on the floor of this cave."

Like a cobra strike, he was lunging his head in her face with a vicious snarl, jaws snapping at her with a loud crack. However, instead of flinging herself back in fear like everyone else always had, she shocked him when she held her ground, but that wasn't even the half of it. The woman had the audacity to strike him—right on the nose—and although he barely felt it the shock of her bravery put him at a temporary freeze. She had slapped him. Him. The sheer ludicrousness of the truth of it left him motionless, speechless as he stared wide-eyed at the tiny woman before him. She stood there, hands on her hips, lips pursed and head held high with a prominent frown. All fear was absent from her eyes, and she looked much like a mother scolding a child.