Woman of the Woods

Ch. 2 A New World

Celendria's mind was reeling. She was pressed against her captures chest, clung onto like a bag of stolen loot. The flesh of his bare torso was rigid and cool against her. He ran like water falling from a steep fall. Oddly enough, even with the insurmountable speed his breath and strength bore no evident labor.

"Are you going to kill me?" Her voice was soft yet firm in form. She understood the likelihood of her surviving this. she was nimble and fast but lacked brute strength, he could overpower her in a second.

The man slowly descended from his blistering pace to a steady amble. After what felt like an eternity of being jostled about in his arms she peered upward to see a decently sized village. The quaint town was quiet except for a few rugged built but alluring women carrying oversized pitchers of water from the river down the hill to the right of the village.

"Good morning, Alpha Fyre!" The women chimed in unison occasionally scowling at Celendria laying in Fyre's arms. He ignored their greetings and kicked in a dense wooden door, attached to a cabin slightly larger than the others pocking the plane of the village. She allowed her deep purple irises to wander the shelter. A large bed was visible through a doorless entryway from the main room of the abode. The main room was bigger than expected and housed a quaint wood stove with cooking range. To the far right was a crowd of roaring flames sheltered by an intricately placed masonry, a bear fur rug laid before the fireplace.

Fyre threw her effortlessly into one of the primitive yet comfortable chairs on either side of the rug. He turned to the few shelves lining the opposing side of the room. He swept up a bottle of earthy brown liquor that was otherwise surrounded by various dry foods. The cork was abruptly flicked from the bottle and he leaned with his free hand against the solid cherry wood table centered between the shelves and wood stove.

As he chugged down the spirit Celendria naively gazed at him from across the room, attempting to read any body language that could point to her demise. The final drivel rolled down his chin as he clanked the bottle atop the table that groaned beneath his force.

"No, I'm not going to kill you little one, but they might." He amused, Languidly flinging his hand in the direction of a medium sized rough built window housing the clear image of a gaggle of women spying within the house from a distance.

"Alright then, if you don't mind, I have enjoyed our adventure, but I really must return home." Celendria stands from the chair hoping the liquor dulled his senses. She makes her way quietly towards the wrought iron accented door, yet is hastily pushed to the wall with the weight of Fyre's body. He leans above her one hand pinning her wrist above her head and the other firmly against the wall on the other side of her waist. She cowered beneath his perplexed gaze.

"You certainly are a spirited one aren't you." His thick eye brow arches presumptuously over his left eye. She sinks into the woodwork as far as she can manage as he leans closer and inhales deeply.

"Gods you smell like a thunderstorm, it's what pulled me off course to you." His cavernous voice sent prickles of fire through her ribcage. She had no understanding of the feelings she was enduring.

"And you smell of alcohol and burnt wood."

To no avail she presses the pads of her palms against him, attempting to garner any distance between them.

"Ha...well I won't deny that one, sweetheart." He spins away from her with an all too confidant smirk.

"You can try your luck out there, but I can't guarantee they will be as kind." She mimics his line of view out towards the snickering women once more. Defeated she slinks into the chair closest to her.

"Then why am I here?" Her ear tips flicker tossing light strands of her verdant hair as a shiver overtakes her.

Fyre saunters to the chair opposite her and settles himself into its creaking frame.

"For my amusement, I have grown rather bored of the same old faces. It doesn't hurt you are quite a vision yourself."

A fire once again coursed through her veins that she struggled to quench.

"Aww look the hot headed pixie has caught quite the flush."

She quickly flies her fingers to her face and involuntarily attempts to wipe away the crimson taking over her flesh.

"I'm not a pixie, I'm an elf of the woodlands and I'm betrothed to the elders son. My absence will be noted."

Her features scream confidence but her core withers as his still ringing voice echoes through her body.

"Good, hopefully they do come after you, Some violence sounds rather thrilling honestly."

She shuts her mouth knowing whatever she says, he will walk upon. She pulls her knees to her chest and curls in on herself. Attempting to forget her predicament.

I should have turned back when they called the first time, I could have avoided all of this mischief. She speaks quietly within the confines of her mind. All the while gratefully taking in the warmth from the flames dancing below.