All For Bread.

All For Bread. 5

5 - In Which There Is Much Fighting

Sometimes he walks and I ride Azur. Sometimes he rides Azur and I walk. Sometimes we both walk. Sometimes, we stop walking. Sometimes, I don't want to kick him in the netherlands so hard his voice will never come back down an octave. Alas, I keep my mouth shut and my feet planted while he hums, whistles and skips away. How he has the energy, I am not sure. All I know is that I spend an awful lot of time rolling my eyes and sighing.

"Come now, Mira!" he pats Azur as I stoke up a fire, trying to minimize the smoke.

Just in case. "What?" I spit.

"Have some fun. We're a good three days ahead of them. They'll have an entire army searching! It's exciting, no?"

"No. Not exciting. Was that supposed to comfort me? Because it didn't. Telling me that there is an entire army after someone is not a way to calm their nerves or make them happy. What were you thinking, exactly? What was running through that brain of yours when you decided to ride off into the sunrise with me, hm?"

"I was thinking that I would help someone out who didn't deserve what was happening to her. If you would like, we can go our separate ways," he seems hurt, but angry.

"Maybe we should!" I turn up my nose, as if he is just a sticky something stuck to the bottom of my foot. I start to gather my things.

"You're not actually serious."

It's not even a question. I make a noise somewhere between that of a horse and a pig, throw my stuff down and glare at him for a couple of moments before stomping off into the trees.

So, maybe I wasn't serious. Maybe I was just trying to get out some of the anger and frustration that what was once just a muse has turned into someone who is saving my life and putting his own in danger in the process. Where is he even trying to get us to? He seems to know where he's going, but maybe he's just trying to make me feel better. Oh, forget that thought. He doesn't care. He thinks this is an adventure. I convince myself not to punch a tree, and instead sit in the stream we've been following. I feel stupid, but I return a couple hours later.

"I'm sorry."

"That's quite alright. It's understandable that you're stressed."

Actually? He doesn't apologize. In fact, he just goes on being manly and cooking us a couple of rabbits that he caught in his fancy trap that I didn't understand the mechanics of. Sure, he's attractive, but he's got the personality of a two year old.

"Is this really just fun and games for you or something?" I screech unpleasantly.

He drops the rabbit onto a plank of wood that he planed out for us to eat on. It smells really good, but I keep my stance. He closes his eyes, and breathes deeply. When he opens them, I am reminded of a wolf. He looks at me, calculating. "I am worried sick about what is going to happen to us. I have a place for us to go where we will not be bothered or harmed, but we have to get there first. If I were in my right mind, I would tie you to a tree and leave you for either Ledoux or some hungry animal. Apparently, there is something wrong with my mind, because instead I am going to do everything in my power to get you to this place, because you kept stealing that damn bread!"

"Can you just try and be a little bit more serious?

"If you'll calm down a little bit."

"Yes."

"Alright."

"Why do you always focus on the bread?"

We sit in the stream together, skipping rocks and licking our fingers. Azur grazes on some lush green grass further away. I keep silent. As does he. I hum a lullaby, trying to distract myself from the fact that I am on the run, and yet I haven't sat so still in a long time. The water is part green from the trees, part orange from the sunset. Tristan gets up and stretches. Without him saying anything, I know that it's time to move on.

I fold my blanket and tie it to Azur. Tristan does the same on the other side. I try not to glare at him, but something in his demeanour makes me want to give him a swift kick in the shins. I did not ask him to accompany me. No, go back further. I didn't ask him to save me. He got me into this mess, but that doesn't mean I need him to get me out of it.

"When we arrive, I want you to stay, and I will continue on. I'm sure I can find another village."

"I agree."

I don't know what I expected, but it wasn't that. Perhaps I was hoping for him to call me an imbecile and tell me that he would be staying. After spending endless weeks sleeping under the stars beside one another, you would think that he would at least care about my well-being a little bit.

But, no. Of course he cares, or he would have never put himself in harm's way. And for some strange reason, I hate him for it. I hate that he is saving. I hate that I want him to stay. I hate that I am not dependent on some excuse for a man - Oh, fine. He is the definition of a man. I will admit that I sneak peeks at his torso when he strips before getting beneath his blanket. I think he is attractive. He has a boyish charm that makes him so desirable.

No, no. No. When we arrive wherever this place is - if we ever arrive - he will stay, and I will leave. And that will be our parting.

It is a sad thought.

He was right, when I had first encountered him. Had we met under different circumstances, we could have been great friends.