Chelsea Fine - Awry

An owl hooted in the twilight and another flock of birds ascended into the purple sky.

The girl’s eyes shifted around the forest. “Fine,” she conceded with a sharp look. “But if you try anything, I will stab you in the thigh.”

He didn’t doubt it.

Biting back a smile, Tristan said, “Fair enough.” He mounted his horse, trotted over to her, and held out a hand.

She looked at his hand like he was offering her a poisonous snake.

Cleary, she was not used to trusting others.

He waited patiently.

A moment passed and she slipped her hand inside his palm. He hoisted her up and waited until she was settled behind him.

She didn’t put her hands on him or balance herself against him in anyway. She scooted herself as far back on the saddle as she could. Tristan tried not to be offended by this as he looked back at her.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“What do you care?” she fired back.

“Must everything be so difficult with you?”

“Yes.”

He shrugged. “I guess I can call you ‘thief’ if you’d like. Or ‘girl’.”

She didn’t respond.

He faced forward and smiled to himself. He liked the girl thief, whatever her name was.

Nudging his horse, he started leading them through the trees.

“Scarlet,” came a small voice behind him. A voice that sounded more like a girl’s and less like a thief’s. “My name is Scarlet.”

Tristan didn’t turn around. “Scarlet,” he repeated. A smile spread across his face. “It suits your temperament.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Tristan asked, “Would you like to know my name?”

“Not really,” she responded.

He smiled again. “Very well. Where to, Scarlet?”

“To the east, just past the valley.”

Tristan nodded and led his horse in the direction of her home. They were silent for a long while, only owls and crickets sounding into the night. With the sun gone, the forest was now filled with shadows and creatures of the night. All of which stayed hidden.

Scarlet had yet to touch him at all, her body poised upright and distant behind him as they wove through the trees.

He wondered about her home, what it would look like. Because he delivered food to the outer villages, Tristan was familiar with the lifestyles of the poor. Would Scarlet’s home be rickety and overrun with insects? Would her roof be broken and weak?

It seemed unfair that he had been born into wealth and had never known a day of hunger or discomfort, while others were born into poverty and struggled all their lives. Maybe that was why Tristan chose to feed the hungry villagers. Maybe he wanted to make the world more fair. Maybe he felt guilty for all he had.

“Your clothes are fine.” Tristan felt Scarlet briefly touch his sleeve.

He grinned. “Are you planning to steal them?”

“No,” she answered simply. “I am merely observing.”

They moved on for a few moments.

She cleared her throat. “Your horse is well-fed and your boots are well-made.”

Tristan nodded. “More observations?”

“You have money.” Her voice sounded resentful.

Tristan was silent for a long time. “Does that upset you?”

Scarlet paused. “Wealthy people cannot be trusted.”

Tristan guided the horse on, passing by the valley. “Have I done anything that is untrustworthy in your eyes?”

“No,” Scarlet said. “But that means little.”

Tristan took a deep breath, unsure of how to talk to this girl. He wanted her to trust him, but he didn’t know why.

He tried to sound lighthearted. “If it helps, any money I have belongs to my father. I, personally, am not rich.”

Yet.

Soon enough, he would inherit land and fortune. For no reason other than birthright.

They cleared the valley and Tristan slowed their pace, following Scarlet’s instructions as they wandered through more dense trees.

When her home came into view, Tristan brought them to a stop and turned around to look at her. In the moonlight, she looked younger and more vulnerable. Her hair lifted in the night wind and her blue eyes met his cautiously.

The small door at the front of the hut opened and an attractive older woman stepped out with worry on her face. “Scarlet, where have you been? When the sun set I was so afraid—”

“I’m fine, mama.” Scarlet dismounted and walked over to give the woman a kiss on the cheek.

“Hello,” the woman said to Tristan, looking at him carefully. “I am Ana Jacobs, Scarlet’s mother.”

Scarlet gestured to Tristan. “Mama, this is…a friend,” Scarlet said. “He brought me through the forest tonight.”

“I see.” The woman gave Tristan a shrewd smile before looking back at Scarlet. “How did hunting go?”

Softly, Scarlet said, “I have no food for us today, but tomorrow I will try again. Do not worry.”

“You have no food?” Tristan asked, shamelessly eavesdropping.

Pride stained Scarlet’s face as she turned around. “We are fine.”

He looked at the scant garden in the yard and the withered boards of the small hut, his chest tightening.

Scarlet was poor. Very poor.

He swallowed back his hatred for the unfair world and nodded respectfully. “Very well. I shall be on my way.” He began turning his horse.

“Hunter,” Scarlet said, walking up behind him.

He stopped and met her eyes in the moonlight. “Yes?”

“What is your name?”

He smiled. “Have you grown sick of calling me hunter?”

“No,” she said. “I simply want to know who I should thank for…helping me today.”

He looked at her for a moment. “Tristan.”

She nodded. “Thank you, Tristan.”

“My pleasure, Scarlet.”

“No,” Gabriel began shaking his head violently, still gripping Scarlet’s hand. “No. She can’t be dead. She can’t be de—” The words lodged in his throat, suffocating him from the inside out.

He blinked back more tears and looked at Nate, whose eyes were wide and sad as he eyed Scarlet’s motionless body.

“You fixed her,” Gabriel said. “You got the arrow out. You stitched her up. She can’t be—” Gabriel couldn’t finish the sentence. Nate searched for Scarlet’s pulse and slowly shook his head. “I did everything I could.”

Gabriel squeezed Scarlet’s hand and waited in silence.

One minute…two minutes…three minutes….

No one moved or dared to speak as they stared at Scarlet’s body.

“She hasn’t disappeared yet.” Nate furrowed his brow. “Something’s wrong.”

Gabriel swallowed and traced Scarlet’s soft face with his eyes. Usually, Scarlet’s body vanished within a few minutes of her death. That was how her curse worked. She would live. Tristan’s immortal blood living inside her would kill her. She would die. Her body would disappear. Then Tristan’s blood would bring her back to life years later.

“Maybe she’s not dead.” Ridiculous hope filled Gabriel’s voice. “Maybe Tristan was wrong—”

“I’m not wrong,” Tristan whispered from his place on the floor, his green eyes flicking to Nate. “She’s not there. Her heart’s not beating.”