Author's Note: Haha, I'm not in grade seven anymore, lol. I'm in grade nine-- almost ten now that it's summer. I was in grade seven when I started the story but I er, have... irregular work patterns... cough
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Tris had nightmares. Not just mildly frightening falling-down-the-staircase nightmares, either. More along the lines of heart-stopping tear-inducing nightmares with corpses drifting down bload-stained oceans. That day that had caused it all was so clear in her mind. Imprinted there, for all eternity. Just thinking about it washed her in cold. Tonight's nightmare was unusually bad.
She was back on that ship, with Enahar. Her lightning cracked like a whip, flickering dangerously in the air. The man had looked ragged in the storm, his eyes wild with fury. Bolts had flown from the ship as it broke itself apart. Then out of thin air he had appeared, like a ghost or an apparition, but not. He was real. Young, with olive skin and short cropped brown hair. The boy named Briar. Satisfaction crept onto Enahar's face as he plunged his dagger into Briar. She wanted to do something, she wanted to help him! She tried but her magic was gone, she couldn't move! She was only in the Hub, she couldn't get to him in time, he was dying, dying! Briar was dying and she couldn't help him-
She awoke with a start, her heart thudding rapidly, blinking away stubborn tears. Why did she keep on dreaming about that day? She wished the nightmares would just go away for good, and she could forget that day ever happened. Anger boiled suddenly, furious at herself. She could never forget that day! She had killed so many people that day, and to just forget that she had done it, forget them!
It was suddenly too hot in her evening shift and she had to get out from under her covers. Cold wind licked playfully at her cheeks and she smiled, slightly comforted. Even though she knew it wasn't a dream, at least for a moment she could forget that expression on Enahar's face as he had set out to kill . . .
Wait, Briar? Why had he tried to kill Briar? Hadn't he tried to kill Ovik? Dazily, she remembered. No. He had tried to kill Briar. She couldn't even remember Ovik from that night. He could have been in Chammur for all she knew. She couldn't remember him at all, except for at the end of the night when those still able carried the wounded back to Winding Circle for the chance to heal. He had been carried in on another man's back, blood caked slimily onto a wound on his side. A wound that hadn't been caused by a weapon, but more likely a misplaced floorboard.
Why was she even thinking about this, trying to convince herself that Briar had been there, not Ovik? She knew Ovik hadn't been there when they had defeated Enahar! Briar had! And Daja knew it, too. Perhaps if Sandry were willing to get her head out of the clouds and look at Ovik clearly she would see what the rest of them did, but no. She was too preoccupied. How had the boy weedled his way in? How had he weedled his way into Discipline, where the teachers were kind, and the food was good? Weedled his way into their circle? The one that, if she remembered correctly, Briar was a part of. Except, back then, Briar had been called Roach. It was all too confusing, she thought as she paced her room, hot and cold at the same time.
What was that? Her eye had caught something in the moonlight. A scrawny figure was lying back in the grass, looking blissful, head in his hands. Briar. She could tell by looking at him. She had seen him every day for over a month, heard his aggravating responses, bantered with him as well as she could. She didn't hate him.
Wind trickled around her ears as she watched him lay there in the grass. Watching him was peaceful, enough so that she soon felt relaxed enough to fall back to sleep.
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For reasons Briar didn't want to understand, he hadn't been able to sleep very well in Winding Circle. At first he had thought he wasn't tired enough when he got to bed, and had taken to running feverishly around the wall of Winding Circle. After many nights of collapsing into bed, falling immediately to sleep and almost immediately waking up again he had decided that the practice wasn't quite worth it. He couldn't understand why sleep didn't come. He only knew the great uneasy feeling that grasped at his chest in the hours most people slept. Eventually his body would shut down and he would sleep, but it was always more of an effort than he would have liked.
Tonight, though, something had inspired him to sleep outside. He wandered a bit, feeling much like a fussy cat searching for the perfect spot. In the near distance he felt some really happy plants. He sped up, heading in the direction of the plants. Perhaps he thought that if he joined the happy plants he would catch some of their happiness and the peace that came along with it. Maybe if he were near these plants he would be able to sleep. That would be a nice change.
Edging nearer to the plants he began to feel oddly comforted. There was a garden, but though the plants felt happy, some of them looked prickly. He settled on lying back in the grass. Head in his hands, he drifted to sleep easily. Just a moment before he drifted off to the point of no return he wondered how he ever could have had any trouble.
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The next night Tris found herself curiously waiting up to see if Briar would come and sleep near her window again. She wasn't disappointed. Wondering why he went down there to go to sleep, especially so low in the grass, she nestled into her warm, comforting bed. It was easier to sleep that night.
As curious as she had been the first night, or the second, it could not compare to the confunded bewilderment she felt on the twelfth night of this strange occurrence. After mulling it over for a time, she had decided she would confront him about it, preferably when he woke up in the morning. Every morning when she woke up, he was always gone. She had asked around a bit (well, a lot) and it turned out he was working in the kitchens. But, talking to him in front of so many people made her feel a bit nervous. He had never called her any names, but what if he was just like all the other boys, only he pretended to be decent when no one else was around? No, she would rather talk to him one on one.
So, set on waking up early she went to sleep before it was even dark, determinedly blocking the sun with her thick curtains. The whole day had been rushed, in an attempt to prepare for the early start of the next one. And start early she did. When morning gunk held closed her eyelashes, a peek at the curtains told her the sun had not yet risen. Perfect. As quickly as she could, she got into her day clothes and rushed outside. There he was, sleeping. The peacefulness in his features disheartened her from awakening him, but otherwise she never would. So, never one to be subtle, she gave his shoulder a shake. "You're sleeping in the grass." she pointed out.
Briar, instantly awake, slipped his hands into all the cracks he had held his knives. Had held. He hadn't found any yet, here in Winding Circle. Then his eyes met Tris's and he realized he wasn't in any danger, was he? "What are you doing, waking me up?" he asked in an accusing tone.
Tris placed a hand on her hip and raised a cynical eyebrow. "You've been sleeping here for the past two weeks and I want to know why." she waited for his answer patiently. Briar considered lying, a thousand ideas popping to his mind. But, this girl had cleaned around him for ages. Not exactly the most ambitious persuit, but they had talked and he quite liked the girl.
"I haven't been able to sleep too well," he admitted. Tris nodded as though this were a common thing.
"Why here, then?" she asked, her arms on her hips as she stared down at him. To her surprise, Briar-wait, hadn't he introduced himself as Roach when she had met him that night? She pursed her lips, thoroughly confused. Whatever, he had chosen to call himself Briar, and for now, she would too. Anyways, Briar blushed. Tris raised a slow eyebrow. She waited for him to speak, patient to hear his answer. Once he realized she wouldn't speak Briar begrudgingly continued.
He shrugged nonchalantly. "It's a nice spot. If I go by the Hub Gorse'll find me come morning."
"So that's where you've been since your side healed?" she asked. He nodded. "How do you like it?" she asked.
His face lit up. "It's brilliant. There's always something to eat." he grinned. Tris smiled back wryly. Before she had the time to come up with one of her dry but clever responses the Hub rang out its bells. Briar's head snapped in its direction. "I'd better get moving now." he said pleasantly. She watched him as he gathered himself and quickly walked over to the Hub.
He didn't trust her, she could tell. She didn't think he trusted anybody. But then again, neither did she.
No. That was a lie. She trusted Sandry and Daja, and Lark and Rosethorn and Niko, even if only tentatively. But Briar didn't trust her. He didn't trust anybody. For reasons she did not understand, Tris wanted Briar to trust her, if only a little. Maybe it was because he hadn't yet called her fat, or looked at her strangely, or scorned her in anything but coy humor. Winding Circle was teaching her to trust. She just hoped it wasn't in vain.
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Fleetfoot lazed on a pub barstool, slightly drunk and staring into the eyes of a bushy man from somewhere or another. He looked like Barley, a little. Something in his nose. It looked all bumpy, and its tip was round. She liked bumpy noses with round tips. She must have said it out loud, because he gave her a smug grin. He grabbed her nose gently and flirtatiously, "Your nose is quite pretty itself." he said, his thin lips curved into a smile. He gave it a tweak. She grinned. Her nose was small and smooth, but she was quite fond of it. Barley had always commented on it.
They had ended up talked for quite a while that night. And then there was some kissing. And giggling. As drunk as she was, she might have done a little more had he not noticed and given her a hug. "I'll see you tomorrow, love," he had said in his fantastic lower class Emelan accent. He had mussed her hair and kissed her on the cheek. She had blushed. Then he had left.
She had seen him again the next night, just as he had told her he would. Then the next, and the next. His sweet, prickly kisses intoxicated her. His rough hands raised goosebumps on her flesh. Now here she lay wanting, if not more, to get to know him. Properly. To see the world with him. To have him hold her again. But he was leaving, and if he left, she would never see him again. She would lose him just as she had lost Barley. She had loved Barley, and maybe she could love him too.
Her eyes drifted to where he lay on the inn bed. She had stayed with him for the past few nights. He looked so sweet as he slept. She ran a thin finger over his blonde bearded cheek. Sleepily he reached out for her, pulling her to him.
What did she have to lose? She would go with him to the Battle Islands. A smile graced her sad lips as her head rested on his chest. Maybe this would work.
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Ovik watched Briar carrying something in a wicker basket from the kitchens warily. This boy threatened everything he had gained. A life, a home, a future. Maybe even one day he might marry Sandry. She was pleasant. And Sandry was a noble. He could become a noble. But should this boy speak even a word of this, should he let the truth be known, everything would be lost. He knew the saying-A secret between two was only safe with one.
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Author's Note: Dun dun dun dun. I hope that was sufficiently long for my EXTREMELY long absence from this story. I'm still writing! I don't know why I didn't for so long actually... Anyways, all thoughts are welcome! Thanks. :D