Chapter 4

T he hedges surrounding the cottage, as thick as an opaque wall with evergreen blossoms of various colors dotting the leaves, are rustling when I return from the feast. My mind immediately jumps to the least likely conclusion that prowlers somehow crossed through the barrier and came to get revenge on me for failing to save their fallen friend. But not every whistle of the wind or knock at the door is a threat. My fists clench anyway.

I creep forward, one silent tiptoe after another, and survey the area to find the source of the movement. It appears to be contained within one spot beneath the center hedge. The leaves are shaking like they're being hit repeatedly in a spot low to the ground, much too small to be caused by a human. Could it be a conco?

"Hey!" I shake a branch in an attempt to coax the creature out, though I'm not sure what I would do in the event that it attacked. Probably a stupid move. "Hey!"

Much to my relief, a dog, tiny and docile, pops out of the shrubs. I almost laugh at the fear that I felt, all for this harmless little creature. He sits in front of me, tail wagging delightedly in frenetic sweeps, and waits for me to pet him. His wide smile opens, letting his tongue slump playfully to the side, bouncing with every pant.

My voice becomes nearly unrecognizable – jumping up an octave – as I bend down to pet him and ask, "Where did you come from?"

His long, floppy ears shake with every wiggle of his butt. His panting breaths run ragged as he tries to get my attention. He must have crossed through the barrier. How long was he out there wandering?

"Do you have a name?" Despite needing a bath, his fur is soft. He rolls over to his back, begging me to pet his belly. I scratch and rub his golden fur without hesitation. And once he's satisfied, he sits up and stares expectantly at me. "Are you thirsty? Do you need some water?"

He barks his confirmation.

"Well, okay then. I need to go to the well. Wait here until I get back." I head inside to grab a jug, but he follows right behind me. Without even pausing to gauge my reaction, he sits underneath the table and curls into a ball. Hardly a minute passes before he lets out a long, bellowing snore. I'm not sure if I should be concerned for the little guy's health or impressed that such a powerful noise could erupt from such a tiny animal. It sounded like a… "Moose." It came to me. "I'll call you Moose."

"I guess you're here for the night, then." I can't help but smile as I watch his tiny body rise and fall with each breath. Watching him sleep so peacefully is like a sedative, bringing a comfort I didn't know that I needed. How scary can the world be when such a fine peace exists?

I run to the well to fill a pale, ready for whenever he awakes.

* * *

Swords clang together, shrieking their shrill cries in every direction. Blood and carnage spread wide in every direction, stretching on as far as the eye can see. These once-green hills are littered with bodies – some still fighting for their lives, others already passed to the gods. The pungent smell of smoke, sweat, and death wafts through the air, so thick that it coats my throat and stings with every breath. It's difficult to breathe, difficult to see, difficult to move. But I cannot let my guard down, not even for a moment.

A man advances on me, sword aimed at my throat, but he's not fast enough. My heels press into the mud before I leap behind him, pivoting in the air and plunging my dagger into the soft spot in his neck. It sinks in so easily, cutting past layers of skin and muscle, until it hits bone. I use all of my force to plunge the dagger deeper until he falls at my feet, splashing mud onto the hem of my trousers.

A quick flash of light streaks from sky to earth. Thunder booms a bellowing roar, and a chorus of screams erupts like a war song. The sound builds to a dizzying crescendo as my eyes connect with a man covered in dried blood. I can't tell whether that blood belongs to him or another. And, for a moment, even in the midst of this chaos, time stands still. For just one moment, we acknowledge each other's presence like it's a sweet gift from the gods.

He is alive.

He is breathing.

He is well.

He is familiar, yet I can't seem to latch onto the memory that might explain who he is. It's just out of reach. His name… What is his name? I can't recall, but I feel that my heart might belong in his hands.

His tunic, which loosely covers his broad, muscular shoulders, is slashed open across the center, exposing a bloodied gash across his abdomen. The dark hair that now falls into his eyes is caked in filth. And yet, he is the most beautiful man that I have ever seen. I can barely stop my heart from leaping out of my chest.

He advances towards me, leaping over the bodies that litter the ground like a dance choreographed for the two of us. A bloodied knight makes a move on him, but his sword brings the knight's life to a swift end as it plunges into his gut. He removes it as quickly as it went in before continuing the dance, even more focused and determined now.

When he finally reaches me, my arms instinctively wrap around his neck, and he sweeps me up with his free arm in one graceful movement. His body feels hard and warm against mine. All of the carnage falls away as I lean into him, turning my chest to press flush against him.

I stare at his chiseled jaw and the dimple at the tip of his chin, admiring the features that feel so familiar, before he presses his lips firmly to mine. It is hard and passionate, as if he's entangling our souls together with every sweep of his tongue. The swell of want and need rolls through my body and knots in my core, begging to be released.

The kiss feels so pure, so right.

I would die for this kiss. I would part the seas and skies for this kiss.

When he pulls away, he angles his forehead to meet mine and holds me like this for several heartbeats. We share each breath until he moves to press a kiss on my cheek. Is it possible for two hearts to beat in tandem? It's like invisible strings succumbed to the tension and pulled us together, tethering our hearts for eternity.

"Don't ever leave me," he whispers into my ear, the fine hairs covering his jaw tickling my cheek, before setting me down gently.

"Behind you!" I squeal as my knees wobble.

A knight swings his sword at the man's head but isn't quick enough. He dodges the blow and then sweeps his sword clean across the knight's tender neck. Blood spews in all directions and a drop of sweat lands in my eye, obscuring my vision. I clear it with the bottom of my tunic, but by the time I look up, he is gone. Lost to the swarm of bodies swirling around me. I desperately move in the direction where he last stood, fighting for another moment in time, but he is no longer there.

The moans of dying men swell in my ears, sending me to my knees.

I lost him.

I wake up heaving and gasping, completely inconsolable and stuck in the throes of an imagined loss. This felt so different from the usual nightmares – devastating but not frightening. It felt like finding the missing piece of the puzzle only to lose it once more.

For the first time in my life, I willingly try to return to the land of sleep. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to conjure his image, pleading desperately with the gods to give me one more moment, one more chance. I beg to see that ruffled brown hair and his tall, sturdy figure again.

Hours go by, and my pleas go unanswered. Once the sun begins to flood in through the window, beckoning me out of bed, I accept defeat.

He is gone.

Slipped through my fingertips before I could hold him in my hands. It was only a dream. But why can I still feel that tether pulling, desperately seeking for our hearts to be intertwined once more?

The dog in the corner barks a simple reminder of his presence. I had forgotten about him. He seems so at home here. More comfortable, perhaps, than me.

"I suppose you can stick around here if you want," I tell him.

* * *

In the two weeks since the prowler first appeared, my mind has refused to quiet. Like a mantra for my sanity, I remind myself constantly to stay clear of the barrier, to ignore the snapping and howling of dogs as the guards usher them along patrol, and to stifle that insatiable desire to go searching for whatever is out there. My curiosity is playing me for a fool.

I took a walk to clear my thoughts, but it was a futile effort at best. The scattered daffodils, clustering along the trail like pops of golden humor or the massive camellia bushes sprouting up from the dirt are nature's best remedy. But then I see a log burnt to a crisp and remember the way that the prowler's body turned to ash.

Will I ever be able to forget his face?

I freeze at the sound of a twig cracking in the distance, and my spine goes rigid. The trail goes still as if it shares my nerves, and only the ruffling leaves fill the silence.

Did I imagine it? Gods, maybe I did. Given the absurdity of the last couple of days, it could be my paranoia creeping up on me.

Something grabs my shoulder from behind, and I jump so high into the air that my feet are nowhere to be found when I slam down onto the dirt. Pain streaks from my tailbone to my back.

I look up to see Oren staring down at me, barely able to conceal his amusement. He must have hidden behind the camellias to startle me.

Of course, it would be Oren. After my mother died, we began a relationship… of sorts. Not the lovey-dovey, future-marriage type of relationship that most women gravitate towards. Ours was both brief and strictly physical. It was all that I was capable of at that time.

I flash him a venomous look as I dust the dirt off of my soon-to-be bruised backside.

"I'm so sorry! I thought you heard me coming!" The look on his face shifts to worry in a fraction of a second.

"Obviously, I did not." As I get up from the ground, I wince at the shooting pain. But when I stand, I find myself surprised that we see eye to eye now. He used to be rather short, compared to me anyway, but now he surpassed my height. And what was once a body of skin and bone is now muscular and taught. His dark skin is smoother, unblemished by the acne that once gathered in spots around his forehead and chin.

"I'm sorry!" He stutters as his eyes flood with nervous regret. "I saw you running over here, and I… I don't know! I wanted to say hello!"

He's so clearly frazzled that it cools the jagged edge between us. Perhaps the attraction that's stirring in my throat eases that friction, as well. "It's fine," I tell him. "It's my fault. I've been far too paranoid recently."

His shoulders relax a little, but some remnants of panic remain sketched onto his features. "Is everything okay? You seem tense."

"No, really?" I bite as I readjust my sleeves.

"You jumped so high that I worried the birds might steal you." There's a sincerity in the softness of his nervous expression that convinces me to be honest with him. He doesn't deserve my venom.

"Watching a man decimated by the barrier will do that to you." I almost stop there, but the words come out too easily like a much-needed release of built-up tension. "Soon after, I spoke with the trader from Alium – the one that sells the coffee?" I search for a sign of recognition, but he only raises an eyebrow. "Anyways, he turned ghostly and absent like his soul escaped from his body for a moment. Then he started talking about a homecoming and nations bowing down, or something like that. And then… and then… guards found him with a knife in his chest only a few hours later."

The words sound so ridiculous that I wonder if he thinks I'm lying. But who could be demented enough to concoct a story about a man turned to dust and a murdered old grouch? Tana, maybe. But not me.

"The jumping makes sense now." He sighs and searches the ground with his eyes as if he's decoding something written in the dirt."What did he – the man that died – mean about the homecoming?"

He knows just as well as I do that there can be no homecoming. I have no family to return to, no home outside of these walls. The only homecoming that exists for me is the greeting that Moose gives after fetching him some water.

"I have no idea," I say quietly.

"Do you think he's a seer?"

The thought crossed my mind. I've read books about seers, mystics, and prophets, but I've never spoken to one. Not knowingly, anyway, since seers are banned in Mendacia. "Maybe, but I wouldn't know a seer from a farmer. Have you ever met one?"

"No, I don't know that I believe in them. Seems like a load of quackery to me."

"On that, we can agree."

"Were you two close? You and the trader, I mean."

"Oh, no. It's not like that at all. He was quite crotchety and abrasive, and I only ever saw him when I ran out of coffee." I start to consider why his death bothers me so much. Sure, he unsettled me with his words, but maybe he had gone mad. Maybe all I witnessed was the musing of a man whose mind had been stolen from the gods. "It's just the timing of it all seems strange with the prowlers lurking beyond the barrier."

"That's true, but don't let it worry you too much," he says with a softened smile. "Are you doing alright? Other than that, of course. Last time I saw you…"

I don't want to think about the last time that he saw me.

I don't want to think about that time in my life at all.

It was filled with too much pain. Too much hurt.

Forgetting about it completely is the only way to heal.

"I should go." I turn to head back to the cottage as the fear of slipping back into that dark, miserable place seeps into my bones and pulls me down, down, down…

He places a hand on my shoulder, which causes me to shudder. "Sorry, I know that touching you from behind didn't go so well last time. But if you want to talk, I'm happy to listen. I mean it."

"Thanks." I know that I will never go to him, but I smile anyway, instinctively shoring up the walls of my heart once again.