retrieved his dagger from the ground a few feet away and polished the steel on his cloak. He looked towards the unconscious girl. The sun would set within the hour, and the night that followed would no doubt be cold and harsh. If she was left here alone, she would freeze before she awoke, even if she was a Hero. Or, her blood would attract wolves and husks. She would be dead by sunrise.
Jim looked up at the sunlit canopy. More memories began to play through his mind. On freezing nights, he had huddled in the tops of trees, the only safe places from the packs of wolves pawing at the trunks below. He would shiver as he hugged the rough bark close to his cheek, but the shivers were never from fear—until the wolf pack would run, and the ground below grew silent. He would often hear footsteps and ragged breathing as the true terror walked nearby. Then, when those footsteps grew louder, and the figures appeared in the opening below, that is when his shivers turned to shakes and his eyes would close tight.
No one deserved to wake in a night like that, not even this girl who had tried to kill him.
Jim walked back to the still figure in the grass. He picked her up, slung her over his shoulder, and retrieved her cloak from the nearby tree. The night was going to be long, but less lonesome than it had been all those years ago.
▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪ ▪
The darkest part of the night had passed before Emma began to stir. Every inch of her hurt; the slightest movement sent torrents of pain cascading through her chest and into her bursting head. But she was alive, somehow. After that Hero tossed her to the ground, and her world went dark, he had kept her alive. Emma opened her eyes, allowing the rude light to assault her senses and magnify the throbbing inside her skull.
A bright, warm fire illuminated a small makeshift barricade. A narrow exit between two boulders led towards the blinding shadows of the long night. At her back, Emma sat against three large trees. Their trunks had grown close together, forming a natural wall against the darkness and elements beyond. Next to the fire lay a charred rabbit, a spit sticking through its torso and into the soft earth.
Emma sat up. A quick examination revealed she had no broken bones, all her weapons had been sheathed in their proper places, and her arm had been bandaged prettily. Attempting to move her shoulder too quickly resulted in a flash of red pain that made her wince and gasp sharply.
A rustling came from the entrance to the barricade. Emma instinctually grabbed for the sword that she kept on her back. The blade felt like an extension of her arm as she held it against the noise. Two golden eyes peered at her from the narrow opening, then the Hero entered the sanctuary.
The man who emerged was tall, causing him to crouch low as he came to the place where the two boulders met. His brown hair shagged past his ears, bouncing as he awkwardly stepped and sat next to the fire. Emma watched, unblinking, at the average looking man sitting quietly a few feet away. The man stared intently at the fire, keeping his eyes as hidden as possible with a practiced ease.
Emma understood now why she hadn’t feared to fight him at first. He knew the advantages that came with his kind, so he knew that a more cautious approach would be taken if his opponents knew what he was. In the fight, he refused to look her in the eyes until she was too close to back down. Emma shivered, remembering the panic that threatened her when he showed her what he was. Sure, she had fought Heroes before, but never up close, and never alone. It was a miracle that he had allowed her to last for more than a moment.
The man sat perfectly still, never reaching for his weapons or acknowledging the pointed metal Emma held. Emma inched backwards. The coarse bark scratched against her wounded arm, forcing her to acknowledge the fiery pain with a blink. The Hero’s eyes snapped at the movement, an odd concern showing in the brief motion.
“Sorry, about earlier.” Sympathy lay heavy on his tired voice. “I don’t know what came over me.”
His eyes darted to Emma’s bandaged shoulder, then drifted back to the flames.
He gestured towards the rabbit at Emma’s feet, “You should eat before your watch.”
Emma gently laid her sword on the ground and reached for the crisp rabbit. She poked at its belly and her fingertip turned black after touching the burnt flesh. She smelled the animal; the sour scent of smoke filled her nostrils.
“You’re not much of a cook, are you?” The vibrations from Emma’s voice reverberated through her whiplashed neck, a reminder that the Hero in front of her was an enemy.
A genuine smile grew on the Hero. His face and body seemed to relax, causing Emma to also relax before she realized and tensed her shoulders again.
“I gave you the better one. My hare was mostly ash. I ate half of the spit before I realized the wind had carried away the good parts.” The Hero’s smile grew.
Against her will, Emma smiled. She was sitting next to a man who had nearly killed her, who had thrown a knife at her head, yet she was smiling. Her body still rang with sore disdain, but she had been spared from the freezing night, so she allowed the smile to stay.
Emma’s stomach grumbled, so she bit into the rabbit. The foul-tasting meat caused her eyes to water. She wanted to spit onto the ground, but she needed the sustenance. Her face must have spoken of the onslaught on her taste buds, because the Hero let out a low laugh.
Despite the horrendous taste, Emma continued to eat. She picked at her teeth with its bones once her meal was finished. The Hero stayed still and silent as she ate, his golden eyes staring at the flames between them.
The crackling fire served as entertainment as a silence grew. The Hero’s heavy eyes blinked rapidly as sleep threatened to take him.
“Do you really want me to take a watch?” Emma asked the Hero.
He looked up, slightly startled at the disrupted silence. “More than anything.”
The Hero stood and began to clear an area of twigs and rocks. Did he truly trust her, an armed stranger, to take watch while he slept? He would be helpless; it would be so easy to leave or cut his throat while he dreamt. But the Hero continued to sweep at the soft grass.
He sat upon the area he had cleared, bunching his cloak into a pillow and leaning his head into the cloth. And then, he closed his eyes.
Emma stared in disbelief at the vulnerable man. One motion, one quick slip of her sword, and he would belong to Death. It would be so easy—too easy. Emma’s body tensed.
“Why shouldn’t I kill you?” Her voice betrayed her thoughts, acknowledging what must be a trap.
The Hero shifted onto his side, putting his back towards Emma and the fire. “You wouldn’t be the first.” His reply was soft and groggy, as if sleep had already taken him. “I’m Jim, by the way. There are a few extra logs by the entrance, if the fire gets too low.”
Then, he was asleep. His chest heaved slow and deep, exhaustion overtaking him completely. His breath puffed in clouds of dragon smoke, reminding Emma of the frigid fate that the slumbering Hero had spared her from.
Emma stared at the fire as the Hero lay in the depth of unconscious dreams. Only leaving once to retrieve a few logs, she moved slow and silently so she wouldn’t disturb her companion of the night.
The Hero only awoke once, grasping at his chest with wide and fearful eyes. He looked towards Emma, the fear morphing back into calm exhaustion.
“My
