Don't Let Them Catch You

3• Attachment

Aura stared at the dim lamp, casting halos against the cieling as Skye moved with restlessness.

It had been a day since they had arrived. The hours of night had sped away with nostalgic dreams. She had never spent this long without her father.

Markus had stayed with her the entire day yesterday, asking curious questions such as how she might be feeling every few hours, along with the more normal queries.

He'd fussed over her, gotten her fresh clothes, made sure she and Skye had eaten properly whenever she suggested being hungry. He'd made dolls with her out of the fresh material he brought so that she wouldn't get bored. She would have been ecstatic if she'd been allowed to leave the room.

And if she had gotten to see her father.

But of course, that wasn't the case.

So she had to put up with it. Though, she didn't mind too much.

It gave her room to think.

And so, she had been stuck for an entire day in that little room with nothing but a bed, a tray of food and the dolls she'd made with Markus. Not to mention a restless Skye who pawed at the walls with a determination to break through, her nails forcing away the paint o the walls each time her claws came back up to meet with it.

Aura stared blankly as Skye's whining persisted, her sharp claws scooping clumps of the wall until she dug through the inside.

She'd created a jagged hole,  and found panelled wood on the inside.

You could fit letters in there, Aura thought with disinterest.

With her tail flickering in small victory, she was about to lunge against the wall to see if she could break through, until a click sounded from the door.

The girls snapped to attention, in regards to the trespasser, Skye's nose lifting in the air, and Aura shifting backwards against her small wooden bed.

But it was all an overreaction.

Of course it was only going to be Markus.

The kind, stocky blue eyed man, who taken good care of her yesterday.

Though, today he lacked the majority of that warmth. And he looked like the angel of death in his attire of all black. A tank top clutching snuggly against his torso, and tracksuit bottoms hung loose at his hips.

There was a plate in his hand.

A bowl would be more of the correct term.

And his eyes were far more steeled than they were yesterday. These were the eyes of a commander, save for the tiniest glimpse of warmth he spared just for her.

Something was different.

Aura had an ominous feeling that she wouldn't be making any dolls today. Not with that look in his eyes.

The sinewy muscle of his arm shifted as he outstretched it to offer the bowl to Aura, hot in her hands. She caught the flash of ring against the dim light, a silver animal skull on his third finger beside the pinky. She was going to ask about it until her gaze wondered off to the bowl with a pale brown substance, and something flaky inside that she could only presume was porridge.

She'd never eaten porridge before.

She quickly lifted the spoon to her lips, and flinched it away when it burned her tongue.

"It's really hot."

But when she glanced up, he wasn't looking at her.

Markus had seen the hole, and he didn't look very happy.