You Never Know (Part 2)

1320 words

Rated PG; some mature subject matter

Prompt: Begin your story with somebody watching a sunrise or a sunset.

Author's note: This is the second part of a story. I didn't initially plan to update it, but I kept thinking about what happened next and had to continue it.

With one final beam of light, the sun ends its magnificent descent. It disappears behind the trees that have shielded me for the past few days. I’ve been watching the sun slowly go down. How very dramatic. Especially considering that I’ll see it rise again in the morning.

Now that the sun is finally gone, The stars can have their time to shine. I look up, and watch them. . .well, I’m not sure what I’m seeing exactly. The balls of gas sit there. They don’t actually sparkle. They glow, but that’s it. It’s not very interesting.

I shake my head. I’m thinking about stars when I should be running. I already had a few breaks today, and I can’t afford to stop. Yet here I am, standing still in a clearing. I sigh and look ahead. It's just dark trees, as it has been for days. 

I’ve been terrified for the past few sunsets, so I haven’t turned around to watch them. It’s been a nonstop cycle of trying to find food, looking behind me and tripping over roots. I have no experience fending for myself. I think I have to find a body of water, but that’s all I know--and I’m not sure how to go about it.

Despite my past feelings, now I’m only bored. There are all these gaps in between hunger and fear where nothing happens. I might see a rabbit or an insect and try to catch it, but it’s otherwise uneventful hours. It almost makes me wish she would come.

Her. The very thought of her makes my heart panic. Our last interaction didn’t end how I expected it would. Once I released her, I ran off to the nearest woods. I figured she would have trouble finding me, and I would be able to think of a plan. Only the former has proved to be true.

Or maybe. . .

She might not be hunting me. She might have given up, after being shaken by what happened. The kiss might keep her awake at night, her heart beating wildly and her face turning red. She might have just turned around and gone home, said I was dead and continued her life without me. She might even-

I cut off my thoughts. No. Stop thinking like this. This is what got you in this situation. Don’t be stupid. Don’t pretend. It hurts too much to pretend.

I stop walking so I can cry. It’s better to get it out so it’ll be easier to let go of. I’ve said this a lot these past few days, the past few sunrises and panic attacks. One last time. One last cry and it’ll be over. No more pain. If I can just collapse and sob one last time.

So I do, for the fourth last time. 

[]

Of course, she was going to find me eventually. I’m glad that at least it wasn’t three hours earlier when I was wailing loudly.

I’m walking along when I feel a tuck on the hood of my cape. I think it’s a branch because it’s gotten caught before. I turn around to get it loose. Only instead I see eyes. And a drawn sword.

the hands that grabbed my cloak takes my shoulder, and metal pressed against my neck. I scream and try to squirm out of her grasp. To my surprise, she lets go of me. The metal is taken away, and my shoulder is let go of. I collapse on the ground and curl up into a ball.

“We need to talk.”

Optimism takes control of my mind. It jumps for joy and laughs and tells me that it was right. That she isn’t going to kill me. The kiss changed her mind. She wants to tell you something important. It’s going to be great. She’ll take you back to the castle if you just listen to her. Your lift will resume. It’ll get even better.

It takes control of my body too. I sit up and squint. There she is. She isn’t an angry killing machine. She isn’t a flustered, blushing mess. But she is biting her lip. She’s a bit nervous. My stomach feels like it’s rolling down a hill. 

I need to approach this calmly. I clear my throat.

“Hi, Blanche.” I’m trying to keep my voice steady.

I pat the spot next to me. She takes the invitation and takes a seat next to me. She looks at me and smiles a bit. I return it and immediately regret it. Stupid optimism.

“How have you been?” She asks, not making eye contact.

I’m not a sarcastic person, but I’m tempted.

“Terrible, but thank you for asking.”

She sighs. I frown. That’s not how she should be reacting. She should tell me how she feels. She should tell me off for complaining. Yet she hasn’t raised her voice once during this--admittedly short--interaction.

“Are you sure you don’t want to help make maps?”

When she first gave me the request, we were sitting in her office. I was still wearing formal clothes. I had three meals a day. It was less than a week ago, but still. Blanche was eager, and when I said no, she exploded. 

Now, she’s just looking for confirmation. She’s begging me.

“I’m sure. Your mom scares me. I can’t imagine being on a battlefield with her.”

She takes a deep breath.

“I’m going to have to kill you. You know too much, and you’re not using the information to help us win the war.”

“I won’t use the information to do anything.” 

She meets my gaze, and finally, I see her spark.

She pulls the sword from its hilt. She pushes it against my stomach.

“That’s not important! You’re unpredictable! You’ll slip up when you’re talking to a friend at a pub or when you’re bragging to an enemy!”

She rises a bit, and the sword is now against my chest.

“You’ll do something, don’t you get it? You should have just taken the offer!” She yells.

“Blanche, you know-”

“I won’t take joy in chopping off your head. It won’t be fun to put you in a sack and toss your bruised body in a river. I won’t be happy when I look at your dead, glassy eyes!”

I stare at her, my hands shaking.

“Then don’t.”

She scoffs, tossing her sword to the side.

“Fine. Let’s just run away together. Build ourselves a cottage. Or, better yet, just steal it from the witch. Use magic to cloak ourselves. Live in fear of my parents for the rest of our lives.”

“Yeah, okay.”

The stars give me enough light to watch her cheeks and forehead turn red. I grin. Maybe optimism isn’t always wrong.

She sees my smile and groans.

“What you did at the witch’s cottage was not appreciated.” She gets out through gritted teeth.

“Are you sure?”

I’m not a smug person either, but I couldn’t help myself.

She sits down again, this time facing me. She stares at me coldly for a few seconds. Then, she bites her lip.

“Stop it. It wouldn’t work.”

“I know,” I admit.

It would never be allowed to happen. I’ve been denying it, but her plan is farfetched at best, and I haven’t even made one. I’ve just been replaying the witch’s cottage incident in my head.

“But I want it to.” She says, maybe to herself.

She kisses me and stares up at the sky.

“Can you meet me in Aeston in two weeks? I need to get supplies. And a horse.”

I laugh. I’m really nervous.

“Um, okay. I’ll see you at the well?”

She beams. She reaches forward and squeezes my hand.

“Good. I’ll see you soon.”

“Uh-huh.”

She goes to get her sword. I lean against the tree. A lot of things are going through my mind. The loudest thought comes from my optimism, though. I told you so.