Invisible String - Cregan Stark

Twelve~ Flattened

My breath caught. My pulse hammered. I saw the faintest flicker in his gaze—down, to my mouth—and I felt it like fire, like a brand pressed into my chest.

What are you doing, Visenya?

What are you not doing?

I could have spoken—something witty, something sharp, something safe. But words abandoned me. Every clever thought fled, leaving only the roar of my heartbeat and the thrum of his beneath my palms.

I lifted my eyes to meet his again. Storm-dark, unwavering, serious.

It was dangerous—this closeness, this stillness. Not silence, but something sharper: a taut, humming tension, like a bow drawn to the limit, ready to snap.

Until a familiar voice called out—dry and smug:

"Shall I come back later?"

We both froze. Cregan groaned softly, head dropping to my shoulder.

I tilted my head and saw Finan Cerwyn leaning against a tree, arms crossed, eyebrows far too expressive.

"You were supposed to check east," Cregan muttered into my shoulder.

"I was! Then I heard the lady screaming," Finan said with theatrical concern. "Imagine my relief to find you both alive... and tangled."

Cregan groaned again. I covered my face with my glove, laughing helplessly.

He climbed off me, offering his hand. I took it, still breathless with laughter, cheeks burning red.

We stood, brushing snow from cloaks and knees, and I looked up at Cregan once more. His ears were red, but his eyes still carried laughter.

"Well," Finan said, grinning ear to ear, "I leave you two alone for half an hour and you're already tangled in the snow like rabbits in spring."

Cregan gave him a flat look. "Finan."

"What?" he said innocently. "It was beautifully timed."

Cregan sighed. "Let's go."

We started walking back through the woods — a trail of broken snow behind us — but my heart was still tangled in the moment we had left behind.

Because the moment before Finan's voice broke the silence— before I remembered to breathe—for one terrifying and beautiful heartbeat, I thought he might have kissed me.

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We came upon the creek at midday, its voice a silver ribbon threading through the hush of the forest. The horses' ears pricked forward at the sound, and Cregan slowed his pace until we reached the bank.

The water was narrow but swift, breaking over smooth stones with the sound of a lullaby half-forgotten.

Cregan dismounted first, his boots sinking into the frost-softened earth. He gave Frost a low whistle, and the direwolf padded forward, drinking greedily from the icy flow.

I lingered in the saddle, letting Ōrbar's steps carry me closer.

When we reached the edge, I slid down and loosened his reins, giving him room to drink. The air was sharp enough to sting, but the creek pulled me forward.

Snow clung stubbornly to the bank in thick white patches, melting at the edges where the water lapped like an animal worrying its prey.

I knelt at the edge, careful not to wet my gloves, and leaned over the mirrored surface. My reflection stared back—clearer than I expected.