Dark Heart

I

The only sound between them was the crunching of the snow beneath their boots as they forged onward. The sun was just dipping below the bare trees, when the wind picked up and pulled hair loose from her braid. It would be a cold winter, the coldest of the decade if that fortunetelling hag was correct in her predictions. If they had time, they would have made camp before the sun set completely and there was no light to gather firewood. Unfortunately, they didn't have time for campfires and freezing to death while snow piled on top of their sleeping bodies. Nothing would have felt better than to stop and rest their legs, but moving is what kept their blood flowing and their bodies warm. They had ventured far from the guidance of the Trader's Road that spiraled through these woods. Without the cover of spring leaves, it was too dangerous to be near the Trader's Road, a passerby would've seen them, and word would spread. But now, there would be no one to find their bodies when winter passed and the snow melted.

Elowen shook the thought of dying in these woods from her head. She had to survive. For the smile she would see when she arrived. For the crinkle in his eyes. For the way his chest moved up and down as he laughed. He grounded her, kept her from jumping to swift actions that lead to sweet revenge. She hated him for that, for calming her when all she wanted was to strike against those that hurt her. But he wasn't here now, no one was stopping her from doing what she wanted, what she desired.

She looked over at her travelling companion.

Woodson's travel cloak was tightly wrapped around his body, trying to cling to the thought of body heat. His mouth was covered by the collar, allowing his breath to keep his face warm. His sword slapped against his outer thigh with every step as he trudged forward. A few trees separated them, but she was quick, and quiet. She could bound toward him, pull her dagger, and open his throat before he had even looked over his shoulder.

It would be perfect.

She could leave him here, she could tell everyone they got separated, that she didn't know what happened to him. She could say she assumed he was ahead of her in the storm, but when the sun came up and the wind died, he wasn't anywhere to be found. She could say she didn't have time to look for him. She smiled at the thought. Her hand twitched toward the knife at her hip.

It would be perfect.

 She would feel a wave of relief wash over her, knowing he got what he deserved. 

It would be perfect.

The wind picked up again, her hair whipped forward, breaking free of the pleat that was supposed to secure it back away from her face. At that moment the bastard turned. She took her hand off the hilt and tucked her runaway strands behind her ear. He barely looked at her, he wanted to die just as much as she wanted to kill him. It would be perfect for them both. She placed her grip back on the hilt of her dagger and waited for another moment when his guard was down and she could strike.

It would be perfect.

He stopped, his back was stiff and he held his breath, gripping the sword by his side, as if he was waiting to catch a hint of a sound before he moved again. She mirrored him, scanning left to right, looking for a hint of what startled him. The last light rays made everything look like shadows, the trees surrounding them appeared to move. Or was that her imagination? She took one step closer to him, careful not to let her boots crunch against the snow. He jutted his chin toward the left, but she swore she could see a puff of warm breath on their right. After a beat, they both took off toward the right, drawing their swords.

Woodson's sword required both hands to hold, hers was smaller and allowed her to move swiftly, like water flowing from the river, while his strikes were more like water falling from a cliff, hard and powerful. They had trained together since childhood, they knew subtle signs of when the other would attack and when they were going to block. They knew each other's clever tricks to get out of sticky situations. She liked to switch hands and slice arteries, while he liked to feint and spin. They made the perfect pair, balancing each other's weaknesses with their own strengths. They won countless partner duels, even travelling to the farther kingdoms when competition was sparse.