Lincoln is quiet as they slowly make their way back to the village, hands still entwined. Lincoln jerks to a halt, in the distance a horn blows. He quickly turns to her.
"You must follow me. Quickly now."
And sets off. He takes them off the trails and soon he starts to speed up into a run. She is chasing after him, crashing through the underbrush, starting to get scared. What is going on? She turns her head back only to notice a yellow fog creeping through the forest and she finds herself dumbstruck, left staring as it creeps closer to her. Lincoln notices she is not following and quickly makes his way back to her, he grabs her hand and tugs her forward. They are running hard now, the fog close on their heels, when Lincoln shoves her into an opening in the rock face. She stumbles but keeps running. Lincoln is moving something into place when they are plunged into darkness. She starts to panic. Her breathing is labored and she feels herself sinking to the floor when suddenly there is light. Lincoln is crouched in front of her, looking at her worriedly. She can't breathe. She gasps in and out trying to get air to go in. But nothing is working. Tears are streaming down her face as she struggles to get air in when Lincoln wraps his arms around her. He gently pulls her into her lap and takes her face in his hands.
"Octavia, listen to me, listen to the sound of my voice. You have to breathe, can you do that for me? Breathe. In and out, in and out."
She feels air starting to flow into her lungs and tears sting at the corner of her eyes.
"That's it. You are doing great Octavia, just keep breathing."
She shudders violently and suddenly all of her fears come bubbling up and she is sobbing in his arms, clutching at him like a lifeline. His hand is warm where it rubs circles on her back and she feels his breath in her hair as he holds her. When she has finally calmed down enough he looks at her.
"Are you ok?"
She laughs, tiredly.
"Just never been a fan of confined spaces."
He nods at that, as though thinking something over.
"What can I do to help?"
"Just distract me with something, anything."
He looks nervous all of a sudden about what she doesn't know but as she looks at him she thinks to herself that he is pretty cute when he's nervous. She leans into him and presses her lips to his. He is still for a moment before he responds. He moves against her lips gently but that is not what she wants right now. She tangles her hands in his hair and pulls at him harder. He responds in like, nipping at her neck. She moans against him and whispers one word to him.
"Please."
When she wakes up, it is bare curled up besides Lincoln. His hand is tangled in her hair, tracing patterns gently on her scalp. She sits up and stretches, sore from their previous activities. Octavia shivers, as the night had progressed it had gotten much colder. She quickly dons her clothes and accepts the fur wrap Lincoln had extended to her. Lincoln is silent and she feels content to just simply sit with him. She takes the time to look around the cave. On the walls are charcoal drawings. She stands up to look at them. They are amazingly detailed, depicting from water monsters to butterflies, and well, her. She turns to Lincoln who is watching her.
"Did you make these?"
He nods.
"Oh my god. Lincoln, these are amazing!"
He looks quite bashful and murmurs something. She stands with her hands on her hips.
"What was that, I couldn't quite hear you."
He speaks louder.
"They really aren't that good."
She disagrees.
"No they kinda are."
He just shrugs his shoulders. She would fight this battle another day, she had already asked a lot of him in this first day.
"Anyways, what is this place?"
"I used to live here."
She looks stunned.
"You, used to live, here?"
He shrug again and she continues.
"But, why?"
He sighs.
"It was a long time ago Octavia, ok. Things were different then."
He looks contemplative as she sits next to him.
"Different, how?"
"Well, for one, my father was still alive."
Octavia had heard stories of his father. It was said that Luna's husband was a cruel man, a warrior and strategist, he had violently trained his only son to live up to the family name. She could only imagine what that was like. She had noticed many scars along his body earlier, ones not made by typical weapons, ones that looked like whip marks.
"Why didn't your mother do anything?"
"I love my mother very much but she too is a warrior and a leader, she only thought it was what was best for me."
Octavia is angry, very angry. How could they do this to their child, their son? Then again how could anyone lock up a small, frightened girl for the majority of her childhood?