A/N:I owe my readers an apology. I really feel that last chapter- and this one- are incredibly sub-par. I made a critical mistake with the plot and I can't see how to rectify it, so I'm just going to forge on and hope it doesn't affect the quality of the story too much.
We traveled for days- around Lake Umacy north, then west between the ranch and Luin, and south to Hima; after that was Izoold, west to Triet, back to Izoold. We stayed there a few nights, waiting for the ship to Palmacosta. Surprisingly, Kratos wasn't as unpleasant as he usually was.
Then again, I avoided him as much as I could. He put a stop to that when we finally got on the boat; it was nighttime, and we were docked in Palmacosta, but were not permitted to disembark due to it being night. I was standing at a rail, looking over into the water, when he came up behind me, silently, and demanded, "What's wrong?"
I jumped and whirled, a hand at my rapidly beating heart. "You scared me half to death, you jerk!" I said in a harsh tone; I would have yelled, but I believed us to be the only ones awake on the ship. "I could have fallen in!"
Kratos tilted his head to the side; I could see a smirk on his face in the moonlight, but the expression reflected in the soft light in his eyes was one of kindness. A far cry from the caustic glint in the harsh sunlight. Now that I thought about it, he looked a lot... softer... in the moonlight. I shook such thoughts away. Stupid romantism. Not two seconds later, Kratos spoke, his voice hard. "If I startled you badly enough to fall in the water, you deserved it. The deck is creaky. You should have heard me."
"Well, I didn't!" I snapped.
"Anna, what's wrong?"
"Nothing," I spat at him, turning back around and staring at the water. "Go away."
A few moments passed. "You're doing it again."
"Doing what?" I asked in a disinterested tone. Ordering him away wouldn't work this time, either, I realized, so it was cooperate or let him make me miserable.
"You're treating me like- how did you word it? 'Crap,' I believe, was your verbiage. And for no apparent reason, now." I cringed; he was right. When we first met, he'd given me a hard time so I gave him one right back. But now I was doing it just because I could.
"I guess I'm holding a grudge," I said sullenly. "But you-" I stopped, sighing. Like he'd care.
He came up beside me; a sideways glance told me he was looking at me, frowning, as he leaned on the railing as I did. "But I what?"
"You're so hard to deal with!" I said, almost whined. "Like just then! You scared me. I thought I was going to have a heart attack, and all you had to say was that I deserved it? I might be treating you like crap, but you're acting like a jerk." His expression looked taken aback; I sighed again and looked down at the water. "Whether you know it or not."
"I... see." He looked down at the water as well, silent and thoughtful. It infuriated me; the least he could do was apologize! Irritated, I stomped away.
"Anna."
I looked back at him, ready to yell for real this time, but he was still looking down at the water, shoulders slumped. I couldn't see anything but his back but I could tell he was sulking. "I will try harder," he said softly."
Was that my apology? But I suddenly felt bad. He had been trying, and I knew it. It wasn't exactly his fault he had the social decorum of a boar, it was just the way he was. Jerk. Making me feel bad... "Thank you," I answered. "And I'll try harder, too."
"Thank you."
Silence descended. Our conversation was over for the night. I laid awake, pretending to be asleep when Kratos finally came to our cabin and settled down on the floor... wearing his sword. The way he was laying- one leg bent up, hands behind his head- and that his breathing never evened out told me that he was pretending to sleep, as well. Doesn't he ever get tired? was my last thought before sunlight hit my eyes.
Kratos was already at the desk, writing in his journal. Quietly I got up and looked over his shoulder, and stared blankly at the writing that was there. His handwriting was beautiful, but the words were completely foreign, didn't even look elven. "Did you think I'd let you read over my shoulder if you could understand what I was writing?" Kratos asked me, his pen not ceasing it's fluid motions on the paper.
"I didn't know you heard me," I replied.
He gave a short chuckle, punctuated it with a period on the paper, and closed the book and turned in his chair to face me. "It is the Angelic language," he told me. "Not many people know it, so I figured that my private thoughts would be safest in that language."
"How do you know the Angelic language?" I asked, mystified.
"I spent a few years in training in the church of Martel," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, and I gaped at him. What other surprises did he have? "It didn't take long for them to realize I had little potential as a priest." He stood, stretching slightly, then headed for the door. "I'll be waiting for you on the dock, when you're ready." Grabbing his pack, something he purchased in Hima, he left me alone.
Noishe pratically knocked me over when he saw me, yelping happily. I laughed as I petted his snout; the poor thing was kept in a kennel below quarters the entire time, all alone since he was so big. He didn't even have the "other" dogs to keep him company, poor thing. Kratos' lips turned up in a very slight smile before saying in that annoying monotone, "We need to keep moving," and started making his way through the marketplace. Noishe knelt to let me on and I hopped on his back, ignoring the looks we were getting from the people of the city.
We came up next to Kratos and he glared up at me. "Get down and walk."
"Why?"
"Because," he answered through gritted teeth, "we're attracting enough attention with Noishe without you riding him."
Noishe gave a low growl, but knelt. I sighed and got off his back; Damn him for always being right, I complained to myself as I fell into step next to Kratos, Noishe two steps behind.
We exited the city and walked quite a ways, heading for Hakonesia peak. It had been agreed before that our next stop was Asgard, hopefully we'd get there before nightfall. I'd fallen behind by the time we reached the House of Salvation that marked the half-way point; I didn't hear the Desian come up behind me as I felt something sharp and burning hot thrust into my back; Oh GODDESS...
I must've screamed at that point, because both Noishe and Kratos were on the Desian before I hit the ground. I heard Kratos' desperate voice and felt him shaking me before I felt nothing at all.
I wavered in and out of numbness for what seemed to be an eternity, my senses slowly coming back to me. The room was lit by candle light when I realized that I was laying in a soft bed, on my stomach, a searing pain in my back. I groaned and drew myself up onto my knees, wincing at the pain. I was bound pretty tightly around my midsection where the dagger went in; "Did you do this?" I asked the man who was sitting on the other bed, elbows on his knees and face in his hands, staring at the floor. He nodded wordlessly. "What's wrong?"
"I was careless," he said simply. "I am sorry, Anna."
"For what?" I asked sullenly. "You tried to warn me to pay more attention."
"Your negligence is no excuse for mine." His distraught gaze turned to me. "You should sleep, Anna."
"I've been sleeping all day."
"Half of it."
"Same difference!"
"Do as you wish," he caved, swinging his legs up onto the bed and laying down, hands behind his head again, and closed his eyes.
He fell asleep- or so I thought- after only a few minutes. I miffed slightly; he was really concerned for me, wasn't he? Laying back down on my stomach, I started singing very softly to myself, a song an elf had taught me a little before I was taken to the ranch. After the first two stanzas, I noticed Kratos had turned on his side and was looking at me; I immediately stopped, flushing at having woken him.
"You were not disturbing me."
I looked at him. "I didn't wake you up?"
"I was not asleep."
"Oh."
Silence again, and then, "You can sing, I don't mind."
"Do you want me to?"
"Do as you wish."
Smiling to myself, I turned away from him and started singing again, slightly louder this time. I sang myself to sleep.
When I woke, my back felt MUCH better, strangely, as if it were just a minor sprain. I wondered at my miraculous healing as we started our journey again from the House of Salvation.
I was dying. I knew I was dying. You only felt this badly if you were dying.
But I didn't have time to die in peace, oh no. I had a two-year-old demon to care for while his mother was out getting supplies. We'd stayed in Palmacosta for too long, and we already had someone who would take the apartment we were renting, as to not rip off our landlord.
Right now, my dear, sweet monster was crying in a severely obnoxious tone, begging for a bottle and refusing to drink from his cup.
My head hurt. Normally I would've let Lloyd cry, but my head was screaming for peace, and I got up, retrieved the toddler, and carried him into the kitchen. I placed him on the floor and told him to wait a minute, going for his bottle. He wouldn't hear of it; he demanded to be on the counter. Not having the energy to argue with him, I picked him up and placed him on the counter, then took his cup and poured it's contents into the bottle.
I then proceeded to remove my child from the sink, screwed on the bottle nipple, and handed him the bottle. He threw the bottle to the ground and I set him down, telling him that he could pick it up. I turned away for two seconds to get a towel to wipe up the minor spill that resulted, retrieved the boy from the garbage pail, stripped him of his clothes and diaper, and placed him in the sink and rinsed him off. Turning away again to get another towel to dry him with, I barely managed to catch him as he threw himself off the counter at the bottle.
I dried him off, reached down and picked up his bottle, carried him to his playpen a few feet from the couch and set him in it. He went far too quietly, but I wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Taking this opportunity, I went back to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. When I went back into the living room, I nearly dropped my drink.
Lloyd was laying on my pillow, on the couch, sleeping peacefully. "How the hell did you-" I shook the thought from my head, deciding that I'd rather not know and chugged my juice. I sat the glass down on the end table, very gently lifting my child off my pillow and settling down, laying with him on my chest. "Don't come crying to me when you get my cold," I told him; he barely stirred.
Kratos again found himself kneeling over the toilet. The innkeeper's wife had insisted that he attempt to eat something- he had gone a week without food- and he discovered that his body's reaction to it was just as he predicted: rejection.
Kratos managed to stumble to the bed. He had insisted that they allow him to work to pay for the room, but they reassured him that it was unnecessary. He felt completely and utterly useless...
He froze as his eyes hit the stuffed rabbit. A tightness clenched his chest; with a howl, he snatched the thing up and threw it at the mirror. The rabbit's one eye hit the mirror with enough force to crack it. Kratos stared at the damaged mirror for a few seconds before sinking down onto the bed, his face in his hands.
Why couldn't he cry?...
