In Between Seasons

Chapter 6

In the morning I opened my eyes to see the light of the sun dancing between the leaves of the trees, and I instantly felt the stiffness of my muscles. I blinked as I was reminded why I was sleeping in the middle of the forest, why my muscles were frozen and finally, that I wasn't alone.

"Tired still?" the man asked as he looked down at me with his brows raised.

I yawned and stretched my arms with every muscle in my body was screaming.

"Exhausted," I replied as I cracked my neck.

He smirked and the tease met his eyes as he said, "You're out of shape."

"Hey! I kept pace, didn't I?" I replied as I sat up.

"If you think so."

I shook my head as I noted an air of arrogance slipping off of him as he stared at me. He showed me the previous night that he wasn't all arrogance and power, though. Somewhere deep inside of him he was fighting the same battle I was. He hated the lies of this world as much as I did.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"Sure," I replied as he handed me a piece of whatever he had toasting over the fire. "What the hell is this thing?"

"It's a toaster pastry. They're easy to make, and they stay fresh for quite some time. I know it's not eggs and sausage..."

"You think I'm a spoiled brat, don't you?" I asked, taking a bite of the frosted pastry and burning my tongue. I didn't say anything; he didn't need to know how bad that gooey middle had hurt me.

He tilted his head from shoulder to shoulder before answering, "I guess that was the preconceived notion..."

"But?"

"You don't quite seem the part. You haven't complained once." He handed me a bottle of water. "That should help with the burn. I should've warned you."

"Thanks," I said as I took a big gulp. "You're lucky you didn't grab Sara. She'd be biting you and screaming right now."

"Then she'd be dead already."

Exactly as Mother had said. If you're too much of a burden or risk to the kidnapper, you might as well be dead.

I swallowed and looked up at him. "Remind me why I'm not?"

"We already went over this yesterday. Why does it matter? You're alive, don't complain, Kate."

"How do you know my name?" I asked as my breath caught in my throat. I knew logically he knew who I was by the way he talked about Father, but to hear him say my name so casually was a shock to my system. What was even more shocking was the fact I liked the way it sounded as he said it.

"Well, your father has two daughters so you were either Sara or Kate. You filled in the blank for me."

"I think you have some additional explaining to do," I said, eating the last piece of toaster pastry and staring him down.

"I have no explaining to do," he replied as he stood and kicked dirt over the fire.

"You won't tell me what this is about?"

He looked down at me, and his heavy lidded eyes showed he was miserable.

"I know you suspected what was going on in your world, but you don't understand the depth of the betrayal. I'm not even sure how much they betrayed you, and I don't really want to be the one to tear that down—to tear down whatever love you have left for your family."

I grit my teeth as I searched his eyes and thought of the clearest betrayal I knew of—of Sara pretending to care when all she wanted to know was what I had been doing with my time. I was sure by now she had told them, and that they had found my books.

"I know they didn't love me," I said, my eyes searching his. I knew from his tortured expression he had the answers I was searching for. I also knew he didn't want to tell me. It made me wonder how many questions he could actually answer. Maybe he had just accepted things as they were, too.

"How do you know that? Some people seemed to care," the man replied as his eyes carefully darted over mine.

"If you won't explain, I won't either, because I'm sure each is equally as personal," I snapped, standing and tripping over a log into his arms.

I tried to tell myself to keep breathing as his strong arms grasped my hips, and his laughter shook his chest against mine. His scent of woods and earth wafted over me, and I pulled away knowing I smelled nothing like that.

"That would've seemed a lot more meaningful had you not just tripped over a twig again," he teased as he covered his grin with one hand.

"Thanks..." I said, as I yanked at the hem of my once-white shirt. "I smell like something died, how do you—"

"Smell so good? It's just natural," he replied, a slight smile creeping into the corner of his mouth. "Actually, I have extra shirts in my pack."

"Well, give me one!" I ordered as I grabbed the edges of mine and pulled it over my head. His eyes widened. "Oh, come on! As if you haven't seen a chick in their bra before."

He shook his head and reached into the pack before handing me a black shirt. "It's going to be a bit big."

"Better than smelling like that," I commented as I threw my shirt at him.

"Here's some deodorant. It might help," he said, shoving my shirt into a plastic bag and putting it into his pack.

"Thanks," I said as I used the white crystal-like rock to mask my odor and then handed it back to him.

I watched as he put it in the front pocket before standing and watching me tie a knot in the back of the shirt so it would be less likely to snag in the tress.

"What's your name anyways?" I asked.

"Hunter."

"So how long are you going to make me run today, Hunter?"

He held out his hand, and I placed mine in it.

"As long as you can take, darling."