"Your memories are resurfacing, and if you remain here..." I paused, attempting to dissuade Rose from accompanying me, though deep inside, I desired nothing more. I yearned to have her by my side, her delicate, often chilly hands in mine, gazing upon her captivating moon-like visage. However, her nightmares were intensifying, and her energy seemed scattered. She kept her dreams mostly concealed, but I had a vague understanding, and it would inevitably lead to dire consequences. It is entirely my fault.
"No," she asserted firmly. "It was different back in Lunar Valley. There, at least, I had some idea of where you were and who you were dealing with. But here, out alone, I can't stand here not knowing, sitting and waiting for you to come back while you fight—heaven knows what—all alone out there."
I stared at her, my heart pounding as her words sank in. A surge of elation burst forth within me, manifesting as a chuckle. She worried about me despite being angry with me. I was certain she still harbored anger, but the fact that she worried... I hadn't known. She was beside herself with concern for me. In that moment, all I wanted was to hold her close, to shield her, and to assure her that she didn't need to worry about me. The thought of her grappling with her own thoughts was unbearable compared to the events unfolding around us. I had witnessed her risking her life for my people. She was not one to back down from a fight, regardless of the opponent, the prospect of death, or the odds of victory. She couldn't remain silent when something wrong was transpiring, even if it meant sacrificing her life. I had nearly lost her once, and I couldn't bear to risk it again. I would rather face a thousand deaths than witness her lying on the ground, bleeding.
"I will come with you as we investigate,"she stated, accompanied by a frustrated huff.
I struggled to find the right words, shaking my head in frustration. I let out an exaggerated sigh, my carefully composed demeanor slipping away—a frequent occurrence since she entered my life. She enjoyed testing me, and I met her fierce gaze, noticing a hint of color returning to her pale cheeks. She appeared so vulnerable when awakening from her nightmares. Stubborn, untamed Rose. Seeing the color in her cheeks was a positive sign, yet my racing heart and constricted breath betrayed my worry.
"What am I to do with you?" I chuckled, observing her set, defiant lips and her fiery sea-green eyes. Oh, how I longed to stroke them. I preferred this side of her—the one that worried and challenged me. It both troubled and enlightened me. She radiated a profound beauty when she fought for something: her freedom, her beliefs, or to protect someone until the very end. And now I saw fear for me hidden behind her eyes. I considered myself fortunate that she worried for me. For over a century, she was the first person after my parents to truly see me beyond my celestial bloodline.
Unable to resist, I pulled her closer, burying my face in her partially dried hair and pressing her warm body against mine. A sigh of relief escaped me. She had grown accustomed to being close to me without startling herself. Unlike her initial response, she didn't stiffen; instead, she leaned into my touch. I inhaled her scent—it resembled her name: roses. It soothed my frayed nerves, which had been on edge since this morning. I had anticipated her fear, believing she would pull away from me, but her anger made me content.
"I'm still cross with you," she attempted to convey with her arms firmly at her sides, emphasizing that all was not well between us. Yet, she relaxed in my arms, and I reveled in the sensation. A sense of relief washed over me.
"I know," I breathed.
"Xen," she called my name in a warning tone. Had I ever told her that when she addressed me as Xen, it felt like the missing pieces of myself had finally been found since I met her?
"You have to talk to me if you're coming with me," I insisted. Will taking her with me make her feel better? Or it would stress her mind futher?
She shook her head. "I can just observe. Investigation doesn't necessarily require talking to you," her intelligence surpassed her own.
"Is there no way I can talk you out of this?" I made one last attempt, pulling away slightly to look into her eyes, gently caressing her cheek. Her soft skin flushed beneath my touch, her freckles seeming to darken beneath my gaze.
I listened to her, knowing she seldom vocalized her concerns. I wanted to understand, to alleviate her burdens. Ironically, I was the greatest trouble she could encounter. Before losing her memory, she never used to remain confined at home. I knew she sneaked around behind my back, thinking I was unaware, but I always knew. Lunar Valley was my domain, built by my ancestors using their powers. The same magic that allowed us to shape-shift, to protect my tribe, also bound us together. Beyond my need to safeguard her, beyond my desire to claim her, there was a longing to make her happy. I didn't know what tormented her mind, but I would find out and guide her out of this darkness that seemed to cloud her eyes with trouble. She wouldn't remain embroiled in this battle forever.
"No," she replied firmly.
"So be it," I relented
****
As Rose and I made our way to the houses of the injured survivors, a heavy sense of unease hung in the air. The village seemed quieter in the chilly morning, as if the recent tragedy had cast a shadow over its inhabitants. We approached the first house, its door slightly ajar, revealing the flickering glow of candlelight within. A girl of twelve years came outside with a bucket of laundry. Upon seeing us, her brown eyes widened, and she hurried inside, with a man coming out. He was Mr. Henderson, whose son was missing, and his wife was with him during that time.
As we reached the house, Mr. Henderson bowed slightly. He was in his prime, but his eyes looked like they had aged a few decades.
"Mr. Henderson," I said. Rose gave a polite, small smile, looking at me, unsure of how to approach the man. Today, even I was at a loss.
"The chief informed me that you might come by, but my wife refuses to talk. All she does is cry," he said, his shoulders slumped.
"Do not worry; we are here to find your son, but we must try to talk to Mrs. Henderson," I assured him.
He led us inside. As we entered, there was a small parlour with a tea table and a fireplace. The bed was hidden by a curtain.
"Poppy, my dear, there are some people who would like to meet you," Mr. Henderson called out.
The girl came in and parted the curtain. We heard a few muffled whispers before she emerged and nodded at us warily.
"She is awake," Mr. Henderson said.
I looked at Rose.
"Would you mind if we..." Rose asked, and the girl nodded, going to her father's side. Rose parted the curtains, and we entered.