Born Enemies

Chapter Twelve: Cel

His head was pillowed on something hard that kept rising and falling gently and evenly under his left cheek. His arms tightened around the solid pillow as his legs squeezed. He was comfortable despite the hardness of the object he was hugging. He felt warm, secure, and safe. Come to think of it, he may have felt a little too warm. His eyes peeled open and for a second he couldn't see anything. After blinking them into focus, it took a few minutes for what he was seeing to register. Cel stiffened, his heart freezing in his chest. He killed the impulse to jerk away, remembering that the body he was held against was injured. Breathing through his nose, he forced himself to remain calm and collect himself. It looked like he'd rolled towards him sometime during his sleep. He was surprised that he hadn't shoved him away. No longer panicking, He slowly withdrew his arm from around his waist and detangled his leg from between his, and slowly began to pull away. He forgot the arm around his waist. It tightened when he began to move. He was pulled even closer to the solid body that was half lying on top of him. His arms and legs returned to their position as his attempt to try to keep some distance between them failed miserably. For an injured person, he was still freakishly strong. He thought, annoyed. At least I know he's not going to die on me anytime soon. Stuck for the moment, Cel waited with bated breath till the arm around his waist relaxed. He let a few heartbeats of stillness go by before he slowly untangled his limbs from his. Instead of trying to pull away like last time, Cel carefully maneuvered himself around so that his back was facing him. When he felt the muscles of the arm he was lying on flex, he stilled promptly and waited with still breath till the limb relaxed. This is simply too stressful. He was annoyed that Amara, although asleep, was making what was supposed to be a quick escape more difficult than it should have been. He was beginning to suspect that maybe he was awake and was playing with him. The very thought angered him. Cel rolled quickly but gently forward, finally freeing himself. He breathed a sigh of relief as he shoved his disheveled hair from his face. They were trembling and his breath shook as he clumsily rose from his bedding. He nearly tripped in his haste to get away from him, but corrected his balance in time to stop himself from falling. He yanked up his robe and tied it closed around his waist with the sash as he marched over to the dying fire to rekindle it back to life. He was shaken from awakening to that situation, and he knew deep down that he couldn't blame it entirely on Amara. Regardless, his eyes glanced towards the bedding, lingering on the half-naked body wrapped in bandages and sleeping peacefully. He had been too busy yesterday and too worried last night to fully see his body.

It was glorious.

He didn't have a single fingertip of fat. The one uncovered leg was made up of long, thick muscles. The skin was weathered and worn, with scattered scars of various sizes and shapes. It was covered with a light dusting of black hair up to the knee. His torso was wide, solid like a tree trunk. His abs weren't flat because of the eight columns of muscles which pulled his skin tight. More scars covered most of the skin there. His chest, smooth and thick with more muscles, wasn't flawless. Even his muscular arms were covered in scars. The healer's side made him frown at the number of scars that covered most of his skin. He could guess that most of them were the result of his rigorous training and they were all healed. There really wasn't much reason for him to worry. Dragging his probing eyes away from the powerful body sprawled on top of the bedding, he poured water into the kettle then hung it over the fire to boil. While the fire was working on the kettle, he took out some crushed herbal medicine and scooped out a spoonful into a cup. He added half a spoonful of honey so that the medicine wouldn't be as bitter. Cel put some leftover veggie soup on to cook, then papered more bandages and medical salve.

"You're up." He committed when he lifted his head to find him awake and watching him work. Amara didn't respond. Cel, already used to it, simply returned his attention to his work. He moved the whistling kettle from the fire and using a rag to protect his hand from getting burned, he grabbed the handle to pour the boiling liquid into the cup he'd prepared. While the tea steamed for a bit, he began to carry the prepared breakfast, bandage and salve to his side.

"Are you planning on feeding me again?" His voice was thick and husky from sleep. Cel took a moment to reply as his breath stupidly decided to hitch. He cleared his throat, his eyes narrowing into a sharp glare at his jab. "Seeing that you are well enough to be an ass, you can feed yourself." He held out the bowl with a spoon stuck inside and his cup. He ignored the faint disappointment that flashed across his hooded eyes and impatiently shoved the food and cup towards him. Amara took them.

"How did you sleep? He asked as he lowered himself onto his knees beside him, his hands reaching for the bandages wrapped around his torso. "Fine." He answered with a mouthful of soup. Cel hummed softly, the memory of being held in his arms buried deep and forgotten in his mind as he checked his injuries and applied more salve, then readjusted the bandages. "You're going to be stiff for awhile, so just stay in bed until the swelling goes down." He patted his side, his hands lingering until he realized what he was doing. He yanked his hands back as if they burned and quickly rose onto his feet, his fingers clutched tightly in his fists. Cel tidied up the place as he waited for the medicine he drank to take effect. When he glanced towards the bed for the hundredth time, Amara had fallen into a medically induced sleep. He wouldn't wake up for a long time. The sleep allowed the enhanced herbs to work faster since his body was still and relaxed. Cel moved over to draw the blankets around his large form, tucking stray limbs, feet, and arms under the covers. He fixed the pillow under his head, his eyes involuntarily drawing down to his slumbering face. He really was so very handsome. Just because he hated his guts didn't mean that he was blindlied to his attractiveness. He got up and borrowed one of his smaller blades. He tucked it into one of the deep pockets of his robes and pulled on his boots. He left the sanctuary of the cave.

Cel stood still, with his hands planted firmly on his hips. He surveyed the scene before him. It was a daster, like a storm had blown-unnoticed by them-through. Trees lay splintered, broken, and uprooted. Huge boulders were smashed into huge and small chunks or powered dust. This wasn't what he was expecting.

At least he wouldn't need to go hunting for fire wood or stones. Cel had come up with a reasonable, non-dangerous way to explore while expanding their living space and creating safe zones. First things first, while he still had light, he began to walk towards what he could remember was the direction they came from a few nights ago. While he walked, he used a short but strong stick to mark the ground from side to side with a two-yard gap between each side. It took him a while. He had to walk, stop, squat, and write down each and every symbol with careful precision before repeating the process all over again and again and again. He had to make sure that the symbols were etched deep enough into the dirt that a light rain wouldn't wash them immediately away and that they were all properly connected. It was a long and tedious job that had to be done. By the time he made it to the small grove where they landed, his hands were covered in soil, his back arched, the joints of his knees and fingers were stiff and aching, his body was covered in a light sheen of perspiration and his hair, damp with sweat, clung to his neck and his face. The sun was slowly sinking behind the tall trees and three full moons were beginning to grace the pale pink sky. It was a beautiful sight, but he couldn't stop to enjoy it. He was able to judge that the time was evening, which meant night was fast approaching and he still had two or five more symbols he needed to complete He finished them in quick succession, the strokes coming to him easily from having to write them repeatedly for the entire day. As soon as he wrote down the last stroke of the final symbol to complete the formation, Cel took out the short dagger he borrowed from Amara from the depths of his pocket. He drew the sharp end of the blade across the left palm of his hand. Blood welled up fast from the two-inch cut. He gingerly held his bleeding hand over the last symbol to activate the shield and felt the shield he spent hours creating activate with each drop of his blood. Cel bled over the formation until the flow slowed to a slow trickle. He wrapped his bleeding hand in a rag, then lifted his hand to test the shield. Between the symbolic formation and his blood sacrifice, he created a protective shield that would keep any unwanted guests out. Satisfied that it had taken effrct so quickly and powerfully, he turned his attention to investigating the grove. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he looked anyway. He carefully searched every inch of the grove in the ever fading daylight. He crawled among the grass and studied the empty air. Although the result left him empty handed as when he started, he did come across some very interesting plants he couldn't help but pick. He made sure to wear gloves and packaged them in separate pouches to study later. Done with what he set out do, even though it was disappointing, he still felt like he had accomplished something. Cel turned to return back to the cave and froze. Every muscle and breath in his body lost function when something clamped tightly over his mouth before he was dragged back into something hard. "Don't move", the words accompanied by warm breath were breathed into his ear. The hushed growling voice was familiar. Cel rolled his eyes but slowly nodded his head in acknowledgement. The hand fell from his mouth, falling to wrap around his waist, holding him against his body. They remained still, watching the shadows and hearing the leaves rustle. The bright light from the three moons allowed them to see the creatures sniffing and prowling along the edge of the shield he'd erected. Cel released a relieved sigh, glad that he had activated the shield in time. Now that he didn't have to worry about the creatures prowling along the edge of his shield, he turned his attention to the arm wrapped comfortably around his waist like it belonged there. He pushed it away and turned around to face him, his eyes sweeping from his feet. His boots were untied as if he had been in a hurry. His powerful legs were encased in clean leather pants. He'd only pulled his cape over his wide shoulders, leaving his chest and torso bare. Cel tilted his head back in order to meet his gaze. "What are you doing here?" He inquired, surprised that the drug had worn off so soon. He should sleep until the next morning. "Let's continue this back in the cave." Amara turned away from him, the cape blowing back with the movement. Cel saw him stumble slightly as he began to walk back to the cave. Without thinking, he rushed to his side, his right arm wrapping around his waist as he wordlessly made him lean into him. He grunted slightly when he draped his arm around his shoulders. That single limb was enough to weigh him down. He cut his eyes on him warningly, but Amara stared straight ahead, his face expressionless. They made it back to the cave in silence. The sounds of the creatures prowling on either side of them accompanied them.

"You know, for you to heal faster, you shouldn't have been moving." He panted heavily as he lowered him back onto the bedding. "You drugged me," Amara committed bluntly, as he peered up at him from his set position.

"Yeah, well, so much good that was." Cel bent down to remove his boots.

"How did you know?" He asked. He stood up and went to the bathing corner to wash and change. He gave the growing heap of dirty robes a distasteful glance as he swiftly wiped himself down.

"I may not be good with plants like you, but I've been trained to detect any drugs that would immobilize me." Amara's voice flowed from the other side of the blanket.

"I only did it to help you. I didn't tell you because-"

"I know that's why you're still alive." Cel scuffed at his words. "I can't kill you." He stressed, not adding: even if I wanted to. He finished washing up and pulled on a clean pair of robes he took out of his storage pendant.

"Besides," he stepped around the curtain, his eyes doubting him. "How many times do I need to tell you?", he tossed the cloth he was using to dry himself down at him. An evil smile curved up the corners of his mouth when he used his injured hand to catch the cloth. It wasn't a full smile because he didn't wince or show any other signs of discomfort. Still, he would take what he could get. "You're more useful to me alive than dead." He poured himself some tea, then carried it back to his bedding. "Aren't you hungry?" The question took him by surprise. "Why do you ask?" He asked hesitantly after taking a sip of his hot tea.

"I haven't seen you eat since yesterday evening." Cel was honestly taken aback that he'd noticed when he himself completely forgot about his own basic needs. "I-" he began to say, then stopped when his eyes landed on the huge, beautiful, shiny golden red apple, half a beard and a small pot of honey, which Amara silently placed in his lap. "Like you've said, you're more useful to me alive than dead." He nonchalantly repeated his words back to him. Cel chuckled softly at that. He glanced at him, his eyes taking in the warm gleam in those black depths. He paused, his mind going blank as his eyes involuntarily dropped to his lips. Heat pooled inside his gut, growing and spreading throughout every corner of his body. "I wonder if they're soft." He blinked, returning to himself with a jolt, his cheeks flushing at the ridiculous thoughts. Cel forced his gaze away, his fingers picking at the soft, fluffy bread. "Fair enough." He cleared his throat and tore off a chunk of bread. He bit into the honey-topped chunk, his mind racing. He didn't taste a single bite of the food.