Chapter 4—Lotion

Paris couldn't breath. And it wasn't from the fall. At least, not anymore. The woman in front of him was beautiful. Her hair was a strange mix of brown-red streaked with black, her eyes were golden and shone in the moonlight.

The wonder in her eyes held him. She seemed as transfixed by him as he was by her.

He heard Heath as if from a distance, and the noises her horse made, but it didn't seem to matter. He only continued to stare at her bright eyes and pretty features.

"Are you alright?" she said softly.

He ground his teeth together and turned his head to look back up at the stars, then tested his muscles and bones. He was sore, and he was sure he'd pulled something in his lower back, but nothing was broken or badly damaged.

With a slight grimace, he pushed himself up, rubbing the back of his head as a black wave rushed through, blinding him for a moment, then leaving a headache behind.

"I'm alright," he said, then looked at her. "And you? You're not hurt, are you?"

She shook her head, but as he looked her over himself, he didn't believe her. She was bruised. Badly. There was a long bruise that marred her flat, boney stomach and an ugly looking one on her bare shoulder. Her arms didn't have specific places he could call "bruises," instead her arms seemed to be swollen all around with inflammation. She looked sore and tender to the touch, but didn't seem to notice the pain.

"You're bruised," he contradicted.

She looked down and seemed shocked to find the purple and blackish marks on her skin. "I'm not hurt from the fall... You…you caught me."

He remembered that. He'd felt her arms, her skin against his as he'd caught her and they'd fallen together. It'd been a strange, uncalled for bliss, until he'd hit the ground. Surveying her still, he noted that she wore Gerudo clothing, but was not a Gerudo. That was odd.

"It was nothing, really," he said.

She looked away as if embarrassed or shy. "But…I appreciate it. It was very good of you."

"If it means that much to you, then you're welcome," he said, pushing up to his feet. He looked down at her and she looked up. They stood and sat there for a long second, then he offered his hand. "My name is Paris."

She took his hand and came to stand next to him. "They call me Savannah."

"Why do they call you that?" he asked, noting that she didn't claim it as her name.

"Because I was forged in the desert."

"Ah," he mumbled.

One of the horses neighed, drawing both of their attentions. They turned and together went to where the horses stood. Examining each with slow deliberation, they both concluded that their animals were alright.

Taking his horse by the reins while he rummaged in his saddle pack, Paris said, "This is Heath. He's a bit mulish."

"I can respect that," Savannah said as she petting the horse's head. "Shadow is rather stubborn, too, but he learned from the best, so I cannot complain."

Paris chuckled slightly. "The best being…?"

"Myself," she answered.

Paris found the bottle he'd been looking for and showed it to her. The glass was blue and it shone mystically in the moonlight.

"Rub this on the bruises. It will speed healing and ease the pain."

Savannah eyed the bottle warily. She couldn't remember the last time someone had given her something without wanting something in return. It shocked and frightened her. Her body did ache, the bruises did hurt…but….

Paris sensed her hesitation and unease. He uncorked the bottle and shook some of the smooth cream out into his hand. He re-corked the bottle and with one hand, rubbed the white mixture into the bruise that was forming on his shoulder from the fall.

Savannah watched as he applied the white cream to himself. If he was willing to use it on his own injury, then it must be safe. But, still. When he offered the bottle to her again, she took it tentatively.

"What do you want in return?" she asked, looking down at the bottle.

"Nothing. I can get more. And you need it more then I," he said, emphasizing his words with a pointed stare to some of the visible bruises.

She looked back down at the bruises again, then mumbled, "Thank you, Paris."

He nodded, pulling Heath toward him as he gazed up at the sky. "I should return to my base. They will wonder where I've gotten to."

She nodded and followed his lead, mounting Shadow.

"Should I escort you home?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I know the way."

He nodded again. They went together to the closer end of the Woodland Haven. She could have gone the other way, but she didn't want to jump the ditch again.

Savannah's head was spinning, partially from the fall and some because of him. Paris. Her tongue burned with the question of what he was; she'd never seen anything like him. So strong, strange. Enthralling. She wanted to say beautiful, but it didn't describe him the right way.

Paris was still mystified and the ride out of the small forest gave him the chance he needed to recover. The mystery of her made his soul dance. She was not Gerudo; he was sure of that. Yet she wore Gerudo white. He was dying to ask her why, but refrained from it.

When they reached the outskirts of the woods, the moonlight shone slightly brighter and the stars were more obvious. They stopped and faced each other.

Paris studied her for a long moment. He hadn't really expected her to agree to his escort, especially considering he was sure she would go toward Gerudo Valley.

He smiled suddenly, faintly. "I'm glad to have met you, Savannah." With that, he turned and trotted away.

Savannah was lost for words; she tried to think of something to say, but found nothing. But the tingling in the pit of her stomach told her one thing: she and Paris would meet again.

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Later that night, Savannah sat in her room in Gerudo Fortress, watching the moonlight play through her window. The slight light that the celestial orb illuminated cast shadows by way of the objects in her room. She stared blankly at the night interaction as she felt the pain of a large bruise on her ribcage ease. It had been an immense, throbbing wound that radiated pain through her body. Now, by slow degrees over minutes, the pain eased. The lotion's texture was smooth and light against her skin and somehow the smell of the white cream reminded her of Paris. It was fixed in her mind that what she was smelling was his scent.

The lotion worked and was a priceless gift, she concluded as the last of the hurt faded away. She longed to ease the pain of her other bruises, but the Gerudo would notice if she walked among them tomorrow without disfigured skin. Holding the bottle to her chest for a moment, she savored the unexpected friendship that was represented by that bottle.

Then she tucked it away in her large wooden chest.

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Spiritual Stone and Thawn716 thank you both again for your reviews.

And, Merry Christmas, everyone:)