RUNAWAY

     ❝And yet you still consider yourself fit to lead your armies.❞ Blake crawled away from him on arms and legs, clutching tightly to her aching side. Her voice was filled with the firm resolution and purpose she knew she was put on this earth to fight for. Wearing radiant confidence– newfound, refreshed and it looked so good on her. She knew was losing this fight– wasn’t underestimating him. She knew she wasn’t strong enough to take him on all by herself. Still; no longer would she hold herself back with him. Instead, she’d tell him the truths she’d started realizing when she began to distance herself from him. The truths she’d always condemned to her mind, for fear of hurting him. For she had nothing left to lose now, except her life. He spoke that he was damned like he was proud of it. And she wanted nothing more than to vanquish the monster from his countenance. ❝Turning against your own kind. And for what–? They don’t agree with your way of thinking?❞

Pinned against the wall now– there was no place to hide, no place to run. Slowly, she untied her bow and let it fall, her eyes never leaving him. ❝I haven’t forgotten who I am.❞ Her voice was close to crumbling, but she maintained her tone– even as he approached, ❝Although maybe you have. Right now, you’re just wasting precious time. Justifying what you’re doing by calling me a traitor.❞

❝’Violence is the only method that yields results.’ Well, look around.❞ She gestured to the fighting amidst them– the tortured screams and howls, ❝Is this the world you envisioned?❞

Fighting trembling, aching bones– she pulled herself back up to her feet, arms lifted at the ready to defend. Eyes glimmering with an unspoken challenge. She was asking him to take a long, hard look at himself. To search through the dark, gaping void his soul had become, for just a fragment– a piece of his past self.

     ❝Funny.❞ Blake mumbled– despite the utter lack of humor she found in this coincidence. She shifted half a step back, closing her book as she risked a glance up at him. Wearing a golden gaze, sharpened to dissect his intentions– when she sees only his mask and not his eyes, she fastened her stare pon the mud at their feet instead. She wasn’t surprised– why would she expect to see anything different this time? Her words towards him neither carry hostility or a lilt with her commonplace wit– rather, they’re quiet. Contemplative, small, as though they could disappear. She used to share her dreams with him. Now, they were an eternal prisoner in her mind– forever unspoken. Hinted only on her countenance. ❝’Cause I had a nightmare about you.❞

Perhaps the things he dreamed about and the things she had nightmares about were the same exact thing. T’was just their minds– framing the same world through different eyes. A future world drowning in deep shades of red that reminded her of him– alit with the fires of revolution he spoke so resolutely of. 

     She’s quick to try and hide the fact that she’d been feeling melancholic– albeit fooling him, even with their recent estrangement, was a challenging feat. After he’d left on a task that morning, she hadn’t anticipated his arrival for at least another four to six hours. It’d taken her by surprise and he’d caught her in a vulnerable state– one she reserved exclusively for hours of privacy, the few moments she had all to herself. The time she took to breathe and try to sort through everything she kept bottled up inside. For the pages of her books no longer offered sanctuary– rather, her thoughts strayed to bloodshed. To questioning her own morality, to whether or not it was okay to stay here, pretending to turn a blind eye. Recently, she’d been deliberating running away. And the more she thought about it, the more she craved it. A life free of the White Fang’s influence and violence, a life where she could strive to achieve their goals in a way which she deemed just. And, perchance, she’d been mourning over the fact that she could no longer tell Adam everything. He used to be the person she’d entrust all her thoughts to. But as he changed, the space between them grew– as did an uncomfortable silence. She missed him. But there was no way in hell that she could tell him what was on her mind. It’d hurt him. And worse, she feared that it’d make him angry. She’d seen him deal with ‘traitors’ recently– and, well, with the thoughts of running fresh in her mind… she’d be one soon enough. 

The idea of speaking makes her sick to her stomach. If she confided in him, would he tangle and twist her values, use them against her– persuade her to discard them like he had? He had a way of doing that, embellishing his views to a point where they seemed so irresistible. And for that he could lead armies. And she cared about him so much that maybe, just maybe he’d convince her to believe a lie he’d been telling himself all this time. So many words inside her remain unspoken, each one hurts. Yet she knows they’d wound him more. And thus she carries them only in her mind, a place where he can’t find them. In part she knows the longer she delays this encounter, the worse it will be. Yet the consequences and the future are swallowed by fear in the present.

She fights away at her sorrow and puts on a brave face. The fear, and she shakes her head. (No– I can’t. I can’t tell you anything… not anymore.)

When she first started wearing her bow, it was for the sole purpose of going into populated areas to scavenge for information– pretending to be human, utilizing the advantages of sharing their race. Upon returning, there was a flurry of emotions rattling around in her chest, the lingering aftertaste of acceptance. Living in a temporary world where she hadn’t been looked down at, was offered common decency without having to fight for it. That she actually walked the streets feeling relatively safe– which was never usually the case, whilst surrounded by humans. It was unfamiliar, it was different. Of course, this change was purely because they all assumed she was human. Funny how all it took was a silly little bow to deceive people into thinking she was deserving of equality. The fact that she had to hide drained all the satisfaction that came with being looked at as an equal for once in her life. She burned on the inside with hurt, she still felt queasy about disguising her nature.

After giving her report, she found that Adam lingered at her side for longer than normal. It went without saying that he wasn’t particularly fond of the fact that they were sending her out among humans by herself. (there were only so few of them who could get away with it, after all) She understood what he must have been feeling rather well, as time and time again she’d been left behind herself– watching him walk off to far more violent tasks. Even after giving the details, he seemed to have more he wanted to say– and yet he delays bringing his queries to light. She feels him staring, although she cannot see his eyes. So to fill the uneasy silence, she confided in him about how different it felt to walk the streets without being tormented. Yet he doesn’t say a word in response until she unties the bow on her head. Her ears were sore, stiff. (she was scared to death of moving them even an inch, for fear of someone noticing) The troubled slope of his shoulders lower with relief once her nature is exposed– and she realizes that hiding it seems to bother him just as much. Even if it was for the cause. I think you’re beautiful. He says it and he directs it at her– at who she really is. It grants her warmth and melancholy in a mixed package– she responds with a sad smile. His hand brushes behind one of her ears, a gesture meant for comfort– he can tell without her having to speak that there was an ache that accompanied binding them.

Ears atop her head were slumped– she didn’t like to roam about soaked for this amount of time. He’d occasionally look over at her, wordlessly– never asking if she needed to stop, but never insisting that they couldn’t stop. She knew he could tell she was pushing herself, they shared a certain amount of stubbornness when it came to the cause. And as a mentor, perchance he wanted to see just how far she could go. Her ankles burned, the cold was biting against her skin. But she wouldn’t let herself slow them down– she managed to make it through the entire night, up till the sun began to rise. It was when she was at her limit, involuntarily dragging her feet  that he decided it was time to set up camp and rest. 

The fire they managed brought out the gold in her eyes and it slowly thawed the numbness from her skin. Shivering, cold– it was a true discomfort for her to be drenched, but she wouldn’t let a single complaint slip. Adam had made it just as far without exposing a single sign of weakness. (He must have felt cold and exhausted too– he must have– but he never once let it show.) Leading was a serious responsibility and he did it with poise. She admired that. When he finally made his way over to rest alongside her, she feels the thick, warm fabric of his coat as he drapes it over her shoulders. While in part she wants to say he shouldn’t, the instant comfort and warmth that envelops her is too great to refuse. She lets herself lean against him with intent to transfer some heat, nuzzling gently against his shoulder– a habitual, catlike way of saying thanks without needing words. Her eyelids feel heavy and she feels like she could drift off to sleep safely– right there next to him.

There’s no festering emotion that can betray her now, she’s wearing a stone-cold stare as she looks at him ‘cross the way. He is no longer the mentor she’d once respected (maybe even loved– but now clearly wasn’t the time to ponder.) Something inside him died, leaving only a ruthless killer behind. Yet he’s still deceptive– his orders promise heaven when he’s really bringing hell. Persuasion is an art he controls like his blade and she’d fallen for it one too many times. No longer. His words are designed to claw deep into her skin, to remind her of her betrayal. She doesn’t feel the sting. She doesn’t give him that satisfaction. He’s seen her squirm enough, seen terror grow in her eyes like an untamed forrest fire. Now she had nothing to lose, having left everything and everyone behind. It’s just the two of them now, with no company but surrounding trees and the enveloping darkness of nightfall.

She wasn’t going to challenge him. He was too strong, that was a fact she was willing to accept. Last time he’d called her out on running, she was determined to prove that she wouldn’t run again. And she didn’t need to repeat the course of events in her mind for the millionth time to know it was a mistake she’d never be able to take back– one she’d carry eternal guilt for. There were other ways to claim victories. And she had gathered all the information she needed from the White Fang. Now, it was a matter of living to tell the hunters and huntresses who would benefit from knowing their strategies.  She stood in the way of his revolution, she was going to throw water on the fires he intended to light. With his plans in jeopardy, he couldn’t afford to let her go this time, lest she release all of their secrets. If she stayed to fight, he’d kill her. He says she can’t escape like he’s so sure of himself– she wants to scoff at his arrogance. 

She’d do what she did best. She’d outrun him. And she would escape.