Seducer (written for the prompt 'charm')
It came naturally; even baby Jet had charm. It was a common enough occurrence for women to stop and admire a particularly adorable child, but men too halted their business for Jet, stooping down low to peek at the already handsome face and that already roguish smile.
"He's quite a boy," they announced, their own faces split wide with grins.
Jet's mother smiled and nodded, admitting that yes, Jet was a fine son, and she was grateful to have him.
Girls a few years older than Jet doted on him, slipping him treats and rubbing his head and wishing he would grow up already. Other boys sniffed disdainfully, covering up their jealousy. Why didn't they get the same attention that Jet did?
He was clever too, perhaps too clever for the ordinary village folk. The boy never found out whether he would fit in as an adult. His people were destroyed and everything with them, leaving little Jet an orphan. It was his charm that saved him. People gave him food and clothing and a place to sleep for a night or two rather than chasing him away. He would tilt his head a certain way and look up at the adults, a sad expression on his face, brown eyes filling with tears. They couldn't resist.
Orphans he encountered, and there were far too many, were drawn to him; Jet knew what to do, how to do it or better yet, how to get others to do it. The older he became, the better able to seduce and manipulate he grew as well. Girls fell for Jet wherever he traveled, swooning and blushing at the very sight of that face and the sound of that voice, smooth and silky like their very best robes.
It wasn't deliberate, this seduction. But it certainly came in handy.
Still Home (written for the prompt, 'return')
A dry summer had taken its toll on the forest. Red leaves had dropped early and a deep, crunchy carpet of them covered both the forest floor and the winding path that made its way through the trees. It was silent but for birdsong and the scurry of small animals making their way to some destination only they were privy to.
Smellerbee slipped her hand into Longshot's. The archer applied firm pressure to her fingers, solid and reassuring like he was. They stood side by side for another moment, simply drinking in the site of their old home, the place they had met, the place in which their bond was forged.
"I want to see the tree house," the boyish young woman declared.
Nodding, Longshot tugged on her hand and pulled her along. Each knew every bit of the woods; the hills, the clearings, the monstrous trees that were rooted solitary, high above the rest. When they made the final turn and then stood at the base of their tree, both sucked in their breaths and shifted eyes skyward.
"Nothing's changed," Bee shouted with a grin. "Let's go up."
Longshot's smile was more subdued, but it was a smile nonetheless. In celebration, he decided to speak one of his rare words. "Let's."
Once up in the tree, the couple visited the various 'rooms', waves of nostalgia hitting them both full force. In terms of time, they had not been away from the forest and the tree house that long. But in terms of what both had experienced and endured, it seemed like eons. Their gang, the Freedom Fighters, had disbanded, perhaps forever, perhaps not. Jet, their leader, the one who had played father to them all, the one whose hurt was so great that he had temporarily lost sight of his humanity, was dead. Bee and Longshot each missed him terribly. The pain was fresh still and little things, a word or a phrase or the slope of someone's nose, could bring the memory of Jet rushing toward them like an angry mother moose lion.
Longshot threw a concerned glance Bee's way. She could read it as well as others could read characters in a book. He wanted to know if it was all too much for her, this homecoming of sorts. She shook her head 'no' and continued climbing, eventually settling down in her old 'room'. Smellerbee's eyes slipped shut but she still sensed Longshot join her and soon felt warm arms wrapping around her small body, protecting, supporting, loving.
"It's all right," she muttered. "I'm all right."
He kissed her hair and closed his own eyes. That was answer enough.
