Lost & Found

14: Unspoken

                The rain must have stopped sometime in the night and Mae was already up, lacing up her leathers. Her hair had been freshly braided without the paint she'd used to make crisp new lines on her face. Even without the fire lighting it, her hair looked like she'd plucked red hot embers from the ashes and braided them together down her back.

Xenik watched her for a few moments in quiet fascination. He could still taste her mouth on his lips and feel her nails scraping down his back as he watched her pull on her boots. She hadn't spared him a single glace this morning, and he knew she was aware that he'd awoken. Fully dressed, she scooped up the discarded wool tunic and brought it over to him. She didn't pause, dropping it onto the fur beside him as she made her way to her pack, shifting the contents inside and securing the straps in place.

Begrudgingly, he pulled the tunic over his head and grabbed his own pack to pull out the wool trousers he'd been given. "Mae," he didn't know what he wanted to say, just that he felt like he had to say something after everything that had transpired between them in that cave.

"No, Xenik," she breathed, sighing as she strapped the daggers to her thighs.

"No?" he was genuinely confused, and tried to catch her wrist as she stepped past him.

She yanked her arm out of his reach, barely letting his fingers graze her, "No," she answered firmly.

He stared after her as she stormed off towards the cave opening. "No what?"

The muscles of her jaw tensed like she wanted to say something, but decided against it. She piled her bow and quiver beside her pack at the entrance and walked away carrying the waterskins. He hadn't expected her to be like the women he'd bedded before, falling over themselves; professing their undying love for him and expecting to find some way into his heart or permanently in his bed. But he hadn't expected cold indifference from her either.

Tugging on his own boots, he resigned to say nothing more about it. Eventually they'd get to wherever she'd been leading him this past week and they'd go their separate ways. Or at least that was what he assumed was the plan. He rolled up the fur; pushing aside the pang of regret he felt.

He'd known before it even started that it wasn't anything that either of them could sustain. They were from two different worlds and just keeping him alive seemed to go against every fiber of her being. None of those facts stopped him from wanting her still.

He folded up the raggedy remains of his own clothes and stuffed them into the bag, securing the rolled fur to it with its straps. Dropping the bag next to hers, he shook out their cloaks and folded them, piling them on their bags to keep them off the ground. Looking around the space to check that they'd gathered everything, he pushed dirt over the dying embers of their fire and strapped his sword to his belt.

She returned with the full skins, handing him the larger of the two. They pulled their cloaks on, and situated their packs over their shoulders, ready to resume their journey thru the wilds. She moved with a purpose, but not so fast that he couldn't keep up. It was still faster than they'd ever walked before. He didn't know if it was because she thought him well enough for it, or if she was trying to put as much distance between them and the cave as possible.

Around midday, the trees started to thin out to where you could see quite a ways ahead of you. Even the sun seemed to struggle less shining through the branches overhead. She refused to say anything else to him, even when she gestured for them to rest and refill their water. He'd tried to come up with something to say, but never seemed to find the right combination of words to express his thoughts. So he'd traveled along behind her just as silently.

When they stopped for the night, he wondered what their sleeping arrangements would be now. But as soon as she'd had the fire built up, she clambered up one of the trees. She'd scaled up the trunk so fast, he found himself embarrassed again for his lack of skill climbing down the cliff. He could barely see her, even with the firelight, but it seemed like she was determined to stay up there all night.

Shrugging, he rolled out the fur at the base of her tree and laid out on it. His eyes grew heavy as he stared up at her, or the shadow of her silhouette. She'd hung her pack and bow on branches beside her, sitting astride the thick bough and leaning back against the trunk. He hoped that if she happened to fall off her perch that he'd at least provide a softer place to land than the hard ground beneath him.

The next day was more of the same. She stalked through the trees, keeping a quick pace, but allowing him to keep up with her. They only stopped briefly to have a quick meal in the afternoon and refill their waterskins. Neither of them attempted to say a word to the other. At nightfall, she helped build him a fire, ate, and climbed up into a tree.

It was nearing midday the following day when he could see a field beyond the line of trees. Their rest was briefer today, barely enough time to refill his skin and pull out the dried meat before she had them walking again. They must be getting close to where she wanted to be. He almost had trouble keeping pace with her as they broke through the tree line. The stream they were following cut through a field of wheat that had recently been harvested, at the far end of the field sat a cluster of buildings. She quickened their pace, heading for the small village.