Rise [Bruno Mars]

Chapter thirty-three

Chapter thirty-three

His presence made me wake.

“Depending on you, we would have been ambushed.”

I grinned, putting a finger to my lips. “Don't tell Bruno.”

Joseph smiled, thin, never-wide. The light from the fire revealed the signs of wear he'd gained from his near three day long period of being comatose. His and Bruno's exhaustion seemed to differ, however. Where Bruno's was a rougher, careless fatigue, Joseph's was orderly, neat, a still skillfully managed cryptic grace. “Adrian. Claude tui oculi.”

The grin wiped from my face. “I—I don't understand.”

“You do.” He held an air of cool challenge between us. “Claude tui oculi.”

I paused. Then closed my eyes.

“Very good,” he praised, in a murmur. “Aperiam os tuum.”

Without question, I did as he instructed, opening my mouth. My wordless obedience was mostly associated with the strange thrill of knowing a language I never learned that mingled shamelessly at the joyful fact that I did not have to carry a, more or less, one-hundred and fifty pound man. He placed a smooth tiny object on the tip of my tongue, and when he ordered “Close” in Latin, and I did, I felt that it was round, somewhat firm. It popped underneath the crush of my teeth, and a cold sweetness spread across my taste buds. 

“Was that a good one?”

“Yes,” I breathed, lost in the wonderment that was sugar. “What was that?” 

His small smile was steady. “A winter berry.”

I savored the saccharine flavor. It was sunshine on my tongue. “It wasn't poisonous, was it? Never mind. Just, is there more?”

His smile widened, meaning it remained small but just a little less. He took my hand and let the rest fall into my palm. “I didn't spend all my energy saving your life for nothing, Adrian.”

“You did save my life.” I held the berries in an untight fist in order to not crush them. For a brief moment, I wondered if it was smart to save some for Bruno. “Thank you, Joseph.”

“Do not thank me.” He laid his thumb on my cheek. “I simply returned the favor.”

Then he stood, leaving me to puzzle over his words. He destroyed the fire Bruno and I had built. “Wake your singer. Ask him to lead in the dark.”

We went to the road. It was concluded as safer and easier to travel by the one and only gifted Bruno. Roots were too plentiful in the woods, particularly the ones that entailed twisted ankles. And the trees were too abundant, too hospitable for a lurking enemy. Morning neared. The ground steadily elevated as we journeyed further northeast, and atop a tiny hill one could see the mountains bordering the brightening horizon, the clouds blowing white and ghostly across them. It was a beautiful sight, vastly majestic, and tender with my future.

“Do you like them?” Joseph asked me, eyes narrowed at the faraway land structures.

Bruno huffed out an impatient cloud of air. His hatred toward the other man was still apparent as ever, and he was not afraid to let it show. As a way of warning, I hit his arm. We had to be team now, the three of us, whether he liked it or not. “What's not to like? Extreme weather. Air opposing your lungs. Fun.”