Bite Before You Beg *One Shot*

Chapter 1 - "Ashes of First Impressions"

I heard the knock before I even saw her.

Three short, impatient raps against the door, like a warning shot.
I stayed frozen in my spot by the window for a second too long, half-hoping she'd give up and leave. No such luck. Another knock followed, louder this time, like she knew I was standing there, dragging my feet.

"Coming," I muttered under my breath, wiping my palms on my jeans. My boots scuffed against the wooden floor as I trudged to the door, each step heavier than the last.

I cracked it open just enough to see her — Ellie Williams, standing there with her hood up against the morning drizzle, her hands jammed into her jacket pockets.

She didn't smile. She never did. Not at me, anyway.

"You ready, or what?" she said, her voice flat, the kind of voice that made everything sound like an accusation.

God, why her? Why did it have to be her?

"Yeah," I lied, grabbing my pack from the hook by the door. I slung it over my shoulder and stepped outside without looking at her. The chill bit through the holes in my jacket, but the real cold was coming from the girl beside me.

We started walking toward the stables in silence, boots squelching in the mud. I kept a few steps behind on purpose, eyes low, pretending to fiddle with the strap on my pack.

It wasn't that I was scared of Ellie.

I just hated the way being near her made my skin crawl — not because I thought she was dangerous, but because every word she said somehow made me want to snap back, to prove something I couldn't name.

It had been like this since the first time we met.

Tense. Miserable. Like two wolves in too small a cage, all teeth and no trust.

"You gonna keep dragging your feet all day?" Ellie tossed over her shoulder, not even bothering to slow down.

I bit down on the first thing that wanted to come out of my mouth. Something mean. Something stupid.

Instead, I just picked up the pace, swallowing the bitterness down like sour whiskey.

"Wouldn't wanna disappoint you," I muttered.

She snorted — a low, humorless sound — but said nothing else.
Small win, I guess.

When we reached the stables, our horses were already saddled and waiting, steaming gently in the cold air. Mine — a dappled gray named Whiskey — tossed his head when he saw me, and I found myself smiling for the first time that morning.

At least someone was happy to see me.
Ellie mounted up without so much as a glance in my direction. I took my time checking Whiskey's cinch, pretending not to notice the way she tapped her boot impatiently against her stirrup.

"You always this slow?" she asked, voice dripping with false sweetness.

I shot her a glare. "You always this charming?"

For a second, just a heartbeat, something like a smirk flickered across her face.

Gone just as fast as it came.

Maybe I imagined it.

We kicked our horses into a trot and headed toward the gate, the guards giving us a bored nod as we passed through. Outside, the world was gray and wet, the trees skeletal against the overcast sky.

Perfect patrol weather.

Perfect patrol partner.

We rode side-by-side in silence for a while, the only sounds the creak of leather and the dull thud of hooves in the mud. I kept my eyes on the treeline, pretending to scan for threats, but really just trying to avoid looking at her.