The Arena (Complete)

Chapter 14

"It'll be alright." Tarik pulled Mara towards the centaur village. It was still early, the sun barely making its way through the tree tops, but he could hear them starting their day.

She tugged back against him, eyes wild.

"Don't you want to see how Nikolas is doing?"

Mara stopped tugging. She looked so scared and confused.

"I've got you, remember?" He pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I won't let anything bad happen to you." Besides, if it came down to a fight. He didn't really think he'd need to worry about Mara.

She nodded, bunching her shoulders up to her ears.

He did his best to hide his smile as they walked into the village.

Just as he expected no one seemed to mind the extra guest. She had her face buried in his back.

Darcassan greeted them. "You're friend is awake and eating. But we thought you might like to bath and change first." He handed them two bundles of clothes. "Our seamstress mended them last night. We hope they fit."

"Thank you." Tarik took both bundles. Darcassan led them to a bath house. It was large just like everything else. Ramps went down into the water.

There was a partition down the middle. For which he was immensely grateful.

He and Mara split up, though she was reluctant to do so. After some minor coaxing she let go of him.

Tarik went through his bundle. The clothes were a simple tunic design and the shoes were leather. But his heart clamored at the sign of a razor. They had given him a small mirror as well.

He quickly shed his old clothing and slipped into the water. It was surprisingly warm. He lathered up and scrubbed away the months of dirt.

Tarik wanted to weep at the joy of being clean. He used the mirror to get the atrocious beard off his face, only nicking himself once.

Then there was the braid. He held it in his hands. The hair had grown well past his shoulders. It was thick and heavy.

He didn't known why he hesitated to cut it off. It was nothing but a reminder of the pain he endured while being trapped in the arena.

So when the razor met hair and it was just a lump in his hands, he cried. The relief and sadness all rolled up into one.

He had suppressed it all these months but his dead sister came unbidden to his mind.

Flashes of memory of him trying to protect her. The sword going through her chest. He had brought that trouble on them.

Gentle fingers resting on his head jerked him out of the memory. Mara, dressed and clean was kneeling at the edge of the pool looking down at him. She had also cut her hair, just below her ears.

He reached up and stroked her face, pushing back some of her air. Her fingers stroked the edge of his jaw.

"Do you like it?" He cleared his thick voice.

She nodded. Her smile was shy, eyes searching. He reached up and gripped her arms, pulling her down closer to him.

Mara pressed her forehead against his.

"I want to take you to my home."

Her molten gold eyes met his. He couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"Would you want that?"

Her lips parted but no words came out.