Not Your Damsel in Distress

1

The only thing disturbing Auberon's reading were the sounds of an ax hitting the wood, chopping it. He was sitting on the top of a chopped down tree with his legs crossed and the big book resting on them. He had pulled the hood of his long blue coat over his face, hiding the frown he always wore when deeply concentrated. His piercing blue eyes were moving over the letters as his dark elegant eyebrows rose from time to time when he read something that he found interesting. His softly square jaw was tightly clenched. His entire skin on his face and all exposed skin on his neck was covered in burns; so were his hands, but they were covered with silky fabric that were his white gloves. The burns looked red and painful, but Auberon didn't notice them anymore. After two years he got used to a constant feeling of his skin being too tight and hot accompanied by the occasional swelling.

"Would you mind, pretty boy?" asked the man that was chopping wood in his close proximity. His frame was much bigger and more muscular than Auberon, but his face lacked the delicateness the wizard's possessed even with burns all over it. He had a short dark beard covering his strong square jaw. Emmet looked like a woodsman he was.

"I'm sure he wouldn't," mumbled Auberon and smirked.

"I'm talking to you, lazy ass," groaned Emmet and chopped another piece of wood in half.

"You can leave it and I'll do it once the sun is set," said Auberon and smirked.

Emmet rolled his dark eyes. "Come on, try to be a physical worker for once in your life."

"But I have you for that!" exclaimed Auberon and raised his hands, pointing them at his friend. "And you have me for intellectual and magical work. And emotional support!"

Emmet laughed, picking up pieces of wood from where they fell once chopped. "You forgot unconditional love."

Auberon crossed his arms over his chest, keeping a serious expression on his face. "That should come as a given."

Emmet laughed again. "How about you start getting out a bit more, hm?"

"What do you mean?" Auberon tilted his head with his arms still crossed on his chest.

"You know very well what I mean. You haven't done anything but mope for the last year."

"You'd mope too if a woman you wanted to help hit you for coming near her," mumbled Auberon, turning his eyes to the dry leaves on the ground in front of him.

Emmet rolled his eyes. "Would you just get over that? You mopped for one year, then you thought about helping a woman, who hit you with a hay sack because you just jumped next to her and started pulling work from her hands, for which I'd hit you too, and now you are moping again."

Auberon sighed and took off his hood. "Look at me!" he pointed to his face with one hand and slicked his black hair with silver ends back as it was ruffled by the hood.

Emmet shrugged his shoulders. "Could be worse."

"Could be? It is!" Auberon stood up and raised his hands in front of him as if he was performing one of his spells. "Nope, still nada," he said and put his hands in his pockets when nothing happened.

"You look ridiculous," said Emmet and rolled his eyes.

"If I were able to use my magic, it wouldn't be," said Auberon and sighed, sitting back down. "I am useless."

Emmet smiled kindly. "You can still check on the traps if you want to."

Auberon chuckled. "I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

Emmet only laughed and continued gathering wood in his arms. "Yap. Get going."

Auberon laughed and rolled his eyes. He put the book down on where he was sitting earlier and made his way deeper into the woods. He tried using his magic but just like earlier it was useless. He had been trying to use it during the day for two years now and... it never worked. He knew why and how to fix it, but he had no idea how to get to fixing it. At least not with burns all over him. He jumped over the small stream without wetting his boots. As much as it was his idea to set up the traps far enough from the house so that they couldn't possibly be linked with them unless someone were to actively follow them he hated the long walk to get to them. More specifically he hated the path to them. It was a tricky kind of path; one wrong turn and you'd be lost. So he had to think while walking even if he had walked it countless times already. At least the day was nice. The sun was bright, even though it was already close to the sunset, and the sky was without a cloud. Birds were singing, the wind was gently ruffling the leaves, a girl's panting was heard...