to sound bitter,
but it was impossible to hide.
Crash caught her wounded hand abruptly,
holding it up between them. Sora almost tripped. They came to a
halt. She turned to face him, trying not to show her nervousness.
She could handle his rebuffs, his cold shoulder and even a mean
word or two. But staring him in the face… this was hard.
“I know you enjoyed it, Sora,” he said,
firmly holding her wrist. He glanced briefly around the forest, as
though someone might be watching them. “But you understand that
nothing can come of it.”
“Yes, I do understand that,” she said
reproachfully. Another lie. “But I don’t understand why you
have to avoid me.”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“Yes, you are! The whole ship notices. And
the rumors—”
“I’ll handle the rumors,” he cut her off.
Then he added more gently, “I’m still here, Sora.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze. He sounded
stern, but a softness entered his eyes, a slight glimmer that she
recognized. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders. As she
hesitated, he swiftly undid the bandage from her hand.
“I haven’t left your side,” he repeated.
Then he turned her hand over, inspecting her palm, pressing
slightly on the reddened skin around the wound. “Does this hurt?”
he asked.
“I…uh….” she muttered, struck dumb by his
simple touch.
He grinned slightly, a wry quirk of his
mouth. “No infection, then,” he murmured.
The wound looked like a popped blister. Her
blood had burst through the fragile new tissue. Sora recalled the
excruciating heat that had consumed her body when the garrolithe appeared. She chewed her lip in thought. Will
it be this way every time I use my Cat’s Eye ? More questions
for Ferran once they began training.
Crash reached into the pouch at his belt and
withdrew a strip of clean linen, then began freshly wrapping her
hand. She wondered if he had brought the linen just for her,
anticipating that she might open the wound. Her throat closed at
the thought, and she took a deep, steadying breath. Yes, this was
what she missed—his closeness, knowing she could lean on him...and
that he wanted her to.
When he finished wrapping her hand, he
continued to hold it, looking down at it thoughtfully. He seemed to
be wrestling with himself for a moment. “Are you fond of him?” he
finally asked.
Sora frowned, taken off-guard. “Who?”
“Tristan.”
“Really?” she asked, with a slow, wide
grin.
Crash grimaced.
Now she wanted to laugh. “Not at all. In
fact, I rather detest him at the moment.”
“Good,” he said after a brief pause.
Sora blinked. Is he jealous ? Could a
man like him even be jealous, and over a clowning Dracian, at that?
The thought caused a small sense of satisfaction. She smiled,
showing her teeth.
Crash’s expression remained darkly ironic,
his thoughts turned inward. Then he adopted a slow, secretive
smile.
A sense of foreboding crept over her. “Why
do you ask?” she prompted.
He didn't reply immediately.
“What are you planning?” she asked
again.
“Why does it matter?” he hedged. “I thought
you weren’t fond of him.” His eyes glinted when he looked at her,
and her heart stuttered momentarily. He’s teasing me, she
thought. He has to be.
“I’m not fond of him,” she repeated,
flustered. “I want the rumors to end, but…not violently.”
“And you assume I would do that?”
“Well….”
Crash shook his head. His mouth twisted as
he said, “I’m wounded you would think that of me,” he murmured.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come now! Don’t
play innocent. I know how you are, Crash!”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He suddenly raised her hand and blew softly
against her palm. The brush of air sent chills all the way down her
arm. Sora’s mouth dropped open.
“Then don’t worry about it,” he finished. He
released her hand and continued along the path through the
forest.
Sora stared after him, at a complete loss.
Confusion swirled
but it was impossible to hide.
Crash caught her wounded hand abruptly,
holding it up between them. Sora almost tripped. They came to a
halt. She turned to face him, trying not to show her nervousness.
She could handle his rebuffs, his cold shoulder and even a mean
word or two. But staring him in the face… this was hard.
“I know you enjoyed it, Sora,” he said,
firmly holding her wrist. He glanced briefly around the forest, as
though someone might be watching them. “But you understand that
nothing can come of it.”
“Yes, I do understand that,” she said
reproachfully. Another lie. “But I don’t understand why you
have to avoid me.”
“I’m not avoiding you.”
“Yes, you are! The whole ship notices. And
the rumors—”
“I’ll handle the rumors,” he cut her off.
Then he added more gently, “I’m still here, Sora.”
She looked up, meeting his gaze. He sounded
stern, but a softness entered his eyes, a slight glimmer that she
recognized. Some of the tension drained from her shoulders. As she
hesitated, he swiftly undid the bandage from her hand.
“I haven’t left your side,” he repeated.
Then he turned her hand over, inspecting her palm, pressing
slightly on the reddened skin around the wound. “Does this hurt?”
he asked.
“I…uh….” she muttered, struck dumb by his
simple touch.
He grinned slightly, a wry quirk of his
mouth. “No infection, then,” he murmured.
The wound looked like a popped blister. Her
blood had burst through the fragile new tissue. Sora recalled the
excruciating heat that had consumed her body when the garrolithe appeared. She chewed her lip in thought. Will
it be this way every time I use my Cat’s Eye ? More questions
for Ferran once they began training.
Crash reached into the pouch at his belt and
withdrew a strip of clean linen, then began freshly wrapping her
hand. She wondered if he had brought the linen just for her,
anticipating that she might open the wound. Her throat closed at
the thought, and she took a deep, steadying breath. Yes, this was
what she missed—his closeness, knowing she could lean on him...and
that he wanted her to.
When he finished wrapping her hand, he
continued to hold it, looking down at it thoughtfully. He seemed to
be wrestling with himself for a moment. “Are you fond of him?” he
finally asked.
Sora frowned, taken off-guard. “Who?”
“Tristan.”
“Really?” she asked, with a slow, wide
grin.
Crash grimaced.
Now she wanted to laugh. “Not at all. In
fact, I rather detest him at the moment.”
“Good,” he said after a brief pause.
Sora blinked. Is he jealous ? Could a
man like him even be jealous, and over a clowning Dracian, at that?
The thought caused a small sense of satisfaction. She smiled,
showing her teeth.
Crash’s expression remained darkly ironic,
his thoughts turned inward. Then he adopted a slow, secretive
smile.
A sense of foreboding crept over her. “Why
do you ask?” she prompted.
He didn't reply immediately.
“What are you planning?” she asked
again.
“Why does it matter?” he hedged. “I thought
you weren’t fond of him.” His eyes glinted when he looked at her,
and her heart stuttered momentarily. He’s teasing me, she
thought. He has to be.
“I’m not fond of him,” she repeated,
flustered. “I want the rumors to end, but…not violently.”
“And you assume I would do that?”
“Well….”
Crash shook his head. His mouth twisted as
he said, “I’m wounded you would think that of me,” he murmured.
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come now! Don’t
play innocent. I know how you are, Crash!”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
He suddenly raised her hand and blew softly
against her palm. The brush of air sent chills all the way down her
arm. Sora’s mouth dropped open.
“Then don’t worry about it,” he finished. He
released her hand and continued along the path through the
forest.
Sora stared after him, at a complete loss.
Confusion swirled
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