Part 2: Lack of the basics

Meg was breathless from all this running. The late autumn air entered her lungs, burning it with an intense coolness. Her red face perspired, making her look like she had just taken a bath. Her side started to hurt her, but despite her efforts of slowing Guy down (because she couldn't muster the energy to speak), he wouldn't budge. Besides, his hand was starting to become all sweaty from this.

Around sundown, they were deep in the forest. Finally having the strength, Meg released Guy's hold on her hand. Glad to stop, Meg leaned against a tree, inhaling and exhaling loudly. Guy stopped and looked at her, placing his hands his knees and breathing heavily. They were next to a sparkling dark-blue river whose flowing water was the only sound besides the two's breathing.

"I think we're fine," Meg wheezed, placing her hand over her chest. The pain entered that area. "Don't be so paranoid. We're like in the depths of the woods."

"We have to go on," Guy declared, wiping his forehead with his arm. By this time his breathing was normal. He must have burned a couple of hundred calories from this running.

"Why? No one was chasing us when we left, and even if they did, we outran them. I don't think anyone would chase us so far."

"You don't know my sister-I grew up with her. She is ruthless and will not stop until I am dead."

"Can't you just say sorry to her?"

Guy rested his hand against a nearby tree. "No, and don't even ask why, because I will not answer you." Guy slumped down, resting his wearied body against the tree, running his fingers through his jet-black, unkempt hair. Then, he rubbed his forehead, groaning, as if some pain bothered him. He looked up and took a couple of deep breaths.

Meg went and sat down next to him, smoothing on the wrinkles on her navy-blue dress. "What is going on?" There was a hint of concern in her voice.

Guy looked at the woman with his lake-blue eyes, also filled with something agonizing. He replied with a bit of malice: "You don't ever want to know. It's just something that happened when I was young, that's all. I will not go into details."

Meg noticed that Guy's face was getting redder and redder. She touched his cheek and noticed that it felt burning. Guy shivered under her hand's cool touch. It felt refreshing, like lotion on dry, cracked skin.

"Your face is not red from the running," Meg said, wiping her hand on her dress.

Guy turned his eyes towards his knees, which were up. "I was fifteen. There was a fire. It haunts me to this very day. End of story!" Meg noted the rage and yet sadness in his voice.

"Did that fire take somebody from you?" she continued.

Guy groaned. "Please! Just stop with the questions. You know way too much about me. It's not supposed to be like that."

"Why do you shut yourself out like this?" Meg paused, weighing her words, before she said: "Maybe I can help you."

At that, Guy immediately returned his gaze to the woman. "How is revealing my life story helpful? No one would understand, and everyone would judge me worse than they already d now."

"You have feelings and emotions, all bottled up inside of you, it seems. Maybe it'll be for the best if you let go of that heavy weight, whatever's bothering you inside. You trusted me in the prison, telling me about Isabella."

At this, Guy remained silent and said not a word for a while. Not bearing this awkward silence between them, Meg said:

"We have to find a way to stay warm before it gets colder." She hugged herself and rubbed her shoulders. "It's worse than the Nottingham dungeons."

Guy looked at himself, at his black cotton shirt, black pants, though thicker than the shirt, and black boots. Not exactly clothes intended for winter.

"If you had been smarter, you would have brought a coat for yourself," he snapped.

Meg rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but my father dragged me to Nottingham in these clothes. There was a trial. I was accused of rejecting my father's suitors one by one, and bribing one to get away from me."

"I don't care about your life story."

"You told me a bit about yours. It's about time I tell you mine."

Guy pointed to his face. "And does this face look like I care about where you came from, who were you parents, or what is your favorite color?!"

Meg bit back a harsh comment, stood up and looked away. "Fine! Oh, by the way, I don't have a favorite color. Now, get up. Do you know how we can find warmth?"

Guy stood up. "Don't you know?"

"No."

"No? Why, that's basic knowledge. You get wood."

"Wood, like from these trees?" Meg pointed at them.

"Yeah."

Meg looked genuinely surprised. "Oh."

"That is a story for another time, how you don't know the basic facts about things. Now, come with me, or we will freeze."

"Doesn't freezing mean your skin gets all cold, and you're hard as a rock, and you can't move, and you're numb?"

Guy rolled his eyes. "Yes. Why are you asking?"

"I just didn't know what freezing meant. I wanted to make sure."

"Well, you can experience freezing if you don't do as I say and come with me!"

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because you have nowhere else to go. I'm your best bet at this moment."

Meg sighed in compliance. "Fine." When Guy turned around to start walking, Meg made a face, like something troubling from the past was bothering her grievously. She shook her head to rid herself of some thought or memory. Then, she followed Guy, collecting dried wood wherever they could.

Better than the first chapter, but not as great. Don't worry; it'll improve.