Second Born

Chapter One- Briggan

For a moment, Briggan thought he had wandered into a fairy tale. She lay on the shadowy green forest floor—a broken creature that did not belong there. He hopped deftly off his horse and unsheathed his sword just in case. He had volunteered for this patrol to get away from the chaos at the capitol, and it had been extremely quiet until he saw her.

His feet made no noise on the soft green grass, and the closer he drew to her the more he couldn't believe his eyes. A ring of light penetrated a hole in the canopy of trees above her and it cast an eerie glow upon her in the shadows of the woods. She looked like an angel. 

She was very lovely. Even though she was crumpled a broken, her softly braided hair and the curve of her hip commanded his attention, but when he drew near enough he could see her gray uniform. The mystery and awe waned into the growing shadows while foreboding and fear crept out to take their place. She was not fallen angel, but a soldier from Enelos. His kingdom was on the verge of a war with Enelos, and now he had found one of theirs over the border. 

Standing over her, he could see her breathing and guiltily cursed the fact that she was alive. Things would have been a lot easier if she had been dead, but now he had to figure out what to do with her. He nudged her gently with his foot, but she didn't wake. Cautiously kneeling down beside her, he investigated her gear.

He couldn't help but admire her beauty. With a smidge of guilt, he brushed a lock of her brown hair from her face and noticed how rough his hand was in comparison.

He sighed heavily and stood to get his gear off of his horse, Denny. A storm had come to a head to their South, blocking the way home. These storms were fairly common in his kingdom and the surrounding ones. They were violent, and often brought freezing temperatures no matter what time of year. All soldiers knew they could be cut off by a storm, and were prepared for survival. There was nothing else to do. He had to make camp out in the woods for a few days, so she would make camp with him, conscious or not.

The temperature had dropped a few degrees, but he was fairly sure the storm would stay far south of their location. With his tent set-up he carefully moved her inside and starting trying to treat her injuries. He laid her gently on the soft, grassy floor and looked her over once again. He needed to remove her uniform to truly see the extent of her injuries, and he couldn't believe how uncomfortable he suddenly was about it. Taking off an unconscious woman's clothes just felt wrong. She was so vulnerable.

He tried not to actually touch her but the rise and fall of her chest made it difficult, and more than once his fingers brushed her skin. He laughed quietly at himself when he realized his heart was pounding nervously in his chest. Briggan Castain, military leader of Naggrib, nervous because of an unconscious woman.

When his bumbling fingers finally released the button between her breasts, he was extremely relieved to see she wore a shirt and small shorts underneath the uniform. They were thin, leaving little to the imagination, but he felt much less guilty about taking her clothes off.

He gently moved his hands up and down her arms and legs, feeling for broken bones, but found none. Her skin was smooth and her body was lean. He tried not to take pleasure in the way her she felt, but he couldn't help but enjoy the feel of her thighs or her hip. She may have had a cracked rib or two, but that was the worst of it. She as very bruised and had some cuts, so he gently put bandages on them.

The light outside had grown dim, and the small lantern he had in the tent cast soft shadows on her, and after watching them dance on her skin for a few moments, he snapped himself out of his trance. He decided to let her sleep, and went to make a fire.