THE STRANGER BY THE RIVER
1214 Words
Rhaedon stared across the river.
The water moved steadily beneath the morning light, its surface sparkling as though mocking him.
He had survived the attack.
He had escaped the wolves who had slaughtered his family.
Surely crossing a river should not be the thing that killed him.
He took a slow breath.
Then stepped into the water.
The cold struck him immediately.
Rhaedon clenched his jaw and continued forward.
The river reached his ankles.
Then his knees.
Then his waist.
The current pushed against him.
He struggled to maintain his balance, using every ounce of strength left in his body to move toward the opposite bank.
His wounds burned beneath the cold water.
His injured leg throbbed with every movement.
Still, he kept going.
One step.
Then another.
The opposite bank was getting closer.
Almost there.
Rhaedon lifted his eyes.
Then suddenly, his injured leg gave way.
His body lurched forward.
The current caught him.
"No!"
He grabbed desperately for something—anything—but his fingers closed around nothing.
The river pulled him deeper.
Water rushed over his chest.
Then his shoulders.
Rhaedon fought against it.
He kicked.
He tried to swim.
But his strength was gone.
His head throbbed violently.
His vision blurred.
The last thing he saw was the pale morning sky above the trees.
Then his eyes closed.
The river carried him away.
---
Hours passed.
The current dragged Rhaedon's unconscious body farther downstream, twisting him through the winding river until, eventually, the water pushed him toward the bank.
His body struck the muddy edge.
Then the current released him.
He lay motionless against a large rock, half-submerged in shallow water.
The morning sun climbed higher.
Birds sang from the branches above.
The forest slowly came alive.
But Rhaedon remained unconscious.
---
Lilith walked toward the river carrying a large wooden bucket.
She had been sent to fetch water for the farm before the heat of the day became unbearable.
Her steps were quick.
She wanted to finish the task and return home.
The market would be busy later, and there was still work waiting for her.
She reached the edge of the forest path and continued toward the river.
Then she stopped.
Something was lying near the bank.
Lilith narrowed her eyes.
"What in the..."
She couldn't make out what it was from where she stood.
Her fingers tightened around the handle of the bucket.
It looked like an animal.
Or perhaps a person.
She took a cautious step forward.
Then another.
The closer she got, the clearer the shape became.
It was a man.
Lilith's heart jumped.
She immediately dropped the bucket.
It landed in the grass with a dull thud.
She stared at him.
The stranger was leaning against a large rock beside the river, his body covered in injuries.
His clothes were torn.
Mud stained his skin.
Dried blood covered his arms and the side of his face.
Lilith's eyes widened.
"What happened to you?"
He didn't move.
She looked around.
The forest was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her instincts warned her to leave.
A wounded stranger in the Dark Forest was not something an intelligent wolf should approach.
Especially after yesterday's announcement.
The killer of the Valdyr Pack was still somewhere in the Western Lands.
And the missing prince was still nowhere to be found.
Lilith swallowed.
Maybe she should leave.
She took a step backward.
Then stopped.
Her eyes returned to the injured man.
He looked as though he had been through hell.
Who would leave someone in this condition?
Her curiosity won.
Slowly, she approached.
She crouched several feet away.
There was something familiar about him.
Not his face.
His scent.
Lilith sniffed the air.
Her eyes narrowed.
"Wolf."
She whispered the word.
The stranger was definitely a wolf.
That made everything more complicated.
She picked up a small stone from the ground.
If he was pretending to be unconscious, she wanted to know before getting any closer.
Lilith threw the stone.
It struck his shoulder.
Nothing.
She waited.
The stranger didn't move.
She threw another.
Still nothing.
Lilith frowned.
"Are you actually dead?"
She slowly stood.
Her curiosity finally overcame her caution.
She stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
She stopped directly in front of him.
He looked younger than she had expected.
Despite the dirt and blood covering his face, his features were striking.
Strong jaw.
Sharp cheekbones.
Dark hair falling messily across his forehead.
His face carried the kind of beauty that did not belong to an ordinary farmer or villager.
Lilith quickly shook the thought away.
What was she doing?
This man was covered in blood.
He could be dangerous.
She reached out.
Her finger touched his shoulder.
"Hey."
Nothing.
She tapped him again.
"Can you hear me?"
His eyes suddenly flew open.
Lilith gasped.
The stranger moved with surprising speed.
He straightened sharply, his hand reaching toward his waist as though searching for a weapon.
His eyes locked onto hers.
Cold.
Sharp.
Intense.
Lilith stumbled backward.
The two stared at one another.
Neither spoke.
For a moment, even the river seemed to fall silent.
Rhaedon's breathing became heavy.
Who was this woman?
Where had she come from?
Was she alone?
His instincts screamed at him to be cautious.
After what had happened at Valdyr, he trusted no one.
Not anymore.
She could have been sent after him.
A spy.
An assassin.
One of the traitors.
His hand slowly curled into a fist.
"Who are you?"
His voice came out rough and weak.
Lilith blinked.
She had expected him to be unconscious for hours.
Instead, he was staring at her as though she were the dangerous one.
"I could ask you the same thing."
Rhaedon's eyes narrowed.
Lilith took another step backward.
For the first time, she noticed how tall he was.
Even wounded and exhausted, there was something intimidating about him.
Something commanding.
But beneath that intimidating presence, she could see the pain in his eyes.
He looked lost.
Almost broken.
Lilith studied his face again.
And despite herself...
She thought he was handsome.
Very handsome.
She immediately scolded herself.
What is wrong with you?
The man was bleeding beside a river in the middle of nowhere.
This was not the time to admire his face.
She crossed her arms.
"You are injured."
Rhaedon said nothing.
"You may have noticed."
Lilith frowned.
His attitude irritated her.
She had just found him half-dead beside a river, and he was looking at her as though she had personally attacked him.
"Fine," she muttered. "Stay here and bleed, then."
She turned to leave.
Rhaedon's eyes followed her.
Something about her was strange.
She wasn't frightened enough.
Most wolves would have run the moment they saw him.
But she had approached him.
Touched him.
Even argued with him.
Who was this woman?
And why had fate placed her in his path?
Lilith picked up her bucket.
She took two steps.
Then stopped.
She glanced back.
The stranger was still watching her.
Their eyes met again.
Neither understood it yet.
Neither knew the other's name.
Neither knew what the future held.
For now, they were simply two strangers standing beside an ancient river.
One was a fugitive prince.
The other was a farmer's daughter.
And between them stood a secret neither had yet discovered.
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