Fairy Tale: Winter's Bite

Chapter 22: This Means War (Part 1)

Joe wasn't too concerned.

Chris's knife wound was just a scratch. And he was certainly getting enough attention for it.

Cassie had torn off the hem of her dress and was stumbling beside Chris, putting pressure on the cut. Joe was lingering behind them, pretending he wasn't listening to every word they were saying.

They had been talking nonstop since they left the marketplace. Or, that is, Chris had been talking about himself. And did Cassie mind? Of course not. She was firing off one personal question after another. And Chris was telling her things that Joe had never even heard before.

"Hey, Joe, what do you think that was all about back there?" Chris unexpectedly tossed over his shoulder. "Was there something else we could have done?"

This was his first effort to include Joe in the conversation and the only reference to the skirmish at the marketplace, which could have had dire consequences.

"Don't know," Joe clipped in response.

Cassie, then, replied without hesitation in Joe's stead. "Chris, the scene was anarchy. The territory and its inhabitants, as well as the attackers, were foreign to us. It would have been a challenge to differentiate allies from enemies. Before we could even find our bearings, you were injured. Your well-being became the priority. I'm sure your father and General Jokura would agree. Though I'm now certain that with the right care your wound will heal nicely with minimal scarring, the same cannot be said for some of your previous injuries."

"Yeah, I know. My back's a mess."

"Where did this scar come from?" she asked.

The smooth redirection of the conversation back to Cassie's favorite topic—poor mistreated Chris—did not evade Joe's notice.

"This big one here?" Chris grabbed a fistful of fabric at the back of his neck and lifted his shirt to just below his shoulder blades. Much higher than necessary. He craned his neck around to see which scar she meant. Apparently, there were a number of them.

She nodded.

"It was a third-degree burn."

"Does it still hurt?"

As Cassie brushed her fingertips over the distorted skin on his back, he took in a sharp breath.

Cassie pulled her hand away, and Chris started to laugh. "No, it doesn't hurt."

"That wasn't funny!" She smacked him lightly on his forearm.

"Ow!" Chris yelled as if she'd broken his arm, and this time both of them burst into laughter.

Joe genuinely missed his broody, miserable brother. This new Chris—cheerful and flirtatious—was getting on his nerves. If he stayed on his current course, he would be insufferable.

"Did you receive the burn while you were in the army?" Cassie probed further.

"Yeah, there was a roadside bomb in Iraq. I'm not exactly sure what caused the burn, but it scorched my skin until I was able to get my shirt off, no small feat with other injuries." He pointed to his right forearm, his left wrist, and a white spot on the side of his neck. "My shirt must have caught on fire, or maybe it was a hot liquid or chemical. I don't remember. The details are fuzzy."

"I feel awful you had to endure all of that," she gushed.

Joe couldn't believe the whole battle-wound thing was working on Cassie—like magic, and not the kind Joe had, either.

"The physical injuries weren't that bad," Chris continued. "They were painful for a while, but the aftermath was worse—insomnia, nightmares, what-ifs. A friend of mine, who was standing right next to me, died in that explosion. The difference between my life and his death was determined in a fraction of a second and by a couple of feet. It's impossible to understand, unless you've experienced a moment like that."

"I have, though," Cassie replied, "more than once."

Chris looked at her with the type of silence meant to encourage her to elaborate. But her head dropped, and eventually his did, too. She wasn't going to say anything more, not even to him.

And luckily for Joe, he didn't have to endure any more boring war stories. The hut was in sight.

"I can't believe we're here already," Chris said as he placed his hand on Cassie's shoulder. "The walk was a lot faster the second time."

"I wonder why?" Joe mumbled under his breath. Time must fly when you're the center of the universe.

Chris moved the ferns aside so that Cassie could walk by unhindered. The two of them stopped before they reached the front door and glanced at Joe as if they were waiting for a moment alone. But he wasn't going to give it to them. Whatever they were going to say to each other, Joe was going to hear it. 

He leaned his back against the side of the hut and waited in its shadow, where no moonlight could reach him. He wasn't trying to disappear. They didn't have to see him to know he was still there.

Cassie removed the torn piece of fabric from Chris's wound and shrugged. "Will you be all right?"

"I think I'll make it," he teased. "And sorry about your dress. You didn't have to do that."

"I wanted to."

"Well, thanks. Good thing you just bought a new one."

He guided her to the door with his hand grazing her lower back this time. He was about to follow her inside when Joe cleared his throat. "Chris, can I talk to you for a second?"

Cassie hesitated in the doorway, peering at Joe uneasily, and then fixing her eyes on Chris. He gave her an encouraging nod, which she understood as, "Go on without us." She stepped inside and eased the door shut with a subtle click.

Firelight soon filtered through the closed shutters and her footsteps faded away. He led Chris away from the hut anyway, just in case. What he was about to say was not meant for her ears.

When he stopped walking, he didn't say anything. He shifted his weight instead, his arms crossed, and brushed plant debris out of the way with his feet.

Impatient as always, Chris made a what-do-you-want gesture with his hands and eyes. "Joe, could you just say what's on your mind already?"

"Well, if you insist," Joe said. "You seem to be moving on quickly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You heard me!"

"I'm not moving on! I danced with her for two minutes and then told a couple of stories. I was being nice when you decided not to be."

"Danced?" Joe snapped back. "If that's what you call it! But I couldn't tell where she started, and you ended. And since when do you dance anyway?"

"Since . . . since now, okay?" Chris stammered. His face was red and his hands were shaking. "And since when did you get so possessive? I didn't know you had exclusive rights."

"I don't! I just thought you realized—"

"Realized you've been chasing after her since day one? Yeah, hard to miss."

Joe stepped closer to him. "Then why don't you back off?"

"I didn't do anything wrong," Chris stated, standing his ground. "So I don't need to—"

"Oh, Chris, did it hurt? Oh, Chris, can I touch it?" Joe said, imitating Cassie's voice and batting his eyelids. "You may not have done anything yet, but you want to."

Joe took another step forward and looked Chris right in the eye. He wanted Chris to snap. He wanted to get hit, the harder the better.

But Chris unexpectedly pulled back. "You know what?" he said calmly. "You don't deserve her."

He turned and walked away.

"Yeah, well. . ." Joe called after him, trying to get in the last word. But the door of the hut had slammed shut before he could finish.

Neither do you. . .

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