The Fall Of Snow: Guard Your Heart

14. Fourteen

Fourteen

Everyone Has a Story

I lied. Huck is absolutely as bad as I thought he was. Maybe even worse.

After giving me a grace period so my wounded knees could heal, Huck has beaten me down with drill after drill in preparation to train with him over the past few weeks. Apparently, the fighting moves he plans to teach me will be ineffective if “a girl with no meat on her bones” performs them with no muscle to back them up. Although I can't disagree with him entirely, I still hate him for the drills he's putting me through.

Sprints in the forest, tree climbing, boulder hauling, hurtling thorn bushes. You name it. My body aches as new muscle forms in places I didn't even know could ache.

To my absolute delight, Huck was impressed with my archery skills so we’ve foregone training in that area for now.

Because we can't risk being seen in the training area, Huck has been training me after dinner in the woods, giving up the little free time he has each night and missing a few leadership meetings on occasion. His selfless actions are almost a direct contrast to his typical demeanor with me and no matter how hard I try, I cannot figure out this man’s motives.

We fight for daylight as the sun sinks deeper into the earth sooner and sooner with each passing day, but Huck doesn't let me off easy. Each night I get back to the cabin soaked in sweat and dragging my feet. When he offers me the bathing room first when we arrive, I question if this is the same man who has a permanent scowl most of the day. Typically, the warriors all use the showers in the center of this pod of cabins, but because it's so late when we return from training, Huck has been bathing in the cabin bathroom after me.

When the others found out about our arrangement, they were delighted at my request. Coy has taken over Huck's weekly duty of cabin check-ins two nights a week so Huck can work with me instead, which he was all too eager to volunteer for. Something tells me Coy enjoys the idea of me being able to defend myself once I'm on my own again, and I can’t say it doesn’t bring me a small comfort, too. If I am destined to live with this target on my back for the rest of my life, I'd like to be as prepared as I can, especially in a new country. And I will never let what happened at the tavern happen to me again. Ever .

Even now, weeks later, I can barely remember the thought of Bernalon using my own dagger against me without seeing red. I will never allow such a weakness again. This is what I remind myself every time I want to throw my dagger at Huck's perfect face when he makes my muscles quiver and my neck wet with sweat when he smirks as I all but give up during training. I remind myself that no man will ever touch me without my permission from this day forward.

I also resist throwing my dagger at Huck because he hasn’t mentioned my two-week deal that has passed without my payment. Despite my daily practices with my magic, I still haven’t cured Aspen. But Huck hasn’t mentioned it, and neither have I.

Today is the first official day Huck’s self-defense lessons begin. He wants me to learn this first, in case I find myself on the defense again. Then comes hand-to-hand combat for when I'm on the offense and I plan to do some damage to my opponent.

We are standing in a small open field of tall grasses and blue clover, the heartiest and last of the plants to die with the cold. The setting sun beams through the bare trees. There is a constant chill in the air now with the promise of brutal winter days ahead. But we haven't had our first frost yet, so the green of the forest still lives.

Already, sweat dampens the back of my neck from our warm-up, despite the cold bite in the air. The leather boots and vest trap the heat in my body like a brick oven, but I revel when a gust of wind hits my bare neck, sending a glorious chill down my spine. I keep my hair just long enough to tie at the back of my head, my raven locks curling around the leather tie like a crescent .

Despite the chill, Huck wears just a white shirt, not needing protection from the biting wind. His body is always running hot no matter the season. But I really wish it wasn't, because the shirt reveals too much of him and it’s distracting as hell, a small cluster of dark hair peeking out from the neckline that is distinctly male. How am I supposed to focus on defending myself when his perfectly chiseled features are on full display?

"Alright, now I'm going to come at you head-on. Let’s pretend your attacker is stupid enough to believe you won't put up a fight." I nod at Huck digging my feet into the earth, preparing for our first physical encounter.

"I'm not going to hold back on you. I want you to know how this ambush would truly feel in a real situation." I nod again, tightening my core.

Up until this point, Huck has only been adjusting my form and giving me pointers while training. But today, we will come in close contact, close enough to feel each other's beating hearts, to feel each breath taken.

My insides flip at the thought, and I curse myself for such a silly human reaction to this warrior. Like every other woman, I'm sure. And I'm sure he knows it too, which makes it all the worse. I push the feeling down and focus as he hurls his body towards me. His large frame charges across the field in a blur of black leather and brawn. My pulse quickens on instinct, not knowing whether to fight or flee, but I stand my ground.

I haven't yet decided whether to push back or try and sidestep to avoid his attack, but I've run out of time when his frame blocks the sun glaring behind him. I let my body's natural instinct take over and find myself blocking with my arms raised in front of me, forming an X. I lean into my front foot prepared to push back into him, but before I get the chance, he seizes my wrists in his hands, while hooking his foot behind my knees. Before I know it, I'm flat on my back, staring into two amber flames as Huck places his weight on top of my body, rendering any form of escape useless. He is easily double my weight and as much as I try to wriggle out of his hold, I know the attempt is futile. A bright glow emanates around my vision.

"Now I've gotten those eyes to flare."

I turn my head away from Huck as soon as he says it like that will erase what he saw. The worst part is that my magic didn't flare from the practiced attack, but rather his proximity to me. I look back at him, trying not to hide from who I am.

His eyes bore into mine with a hunger that heats my core. Part of me wants to lift my head the handful of inches towards his face and kiss him. The other part of me wants to punch that arrogant smirk right off his mouth.

"Well, that was better than I originally suspected, Snowflake. I thought you would turn and run—see if you're quicker than me." His scent surrounds me, and it's intoxicating. Pine and leather. Tenacity and spice. Damn it, he smells good too. Really?

"I never back down from a fight." Except for my mother. I lift my chin as much as the ground will allow, letting my pride show.

"Maybe you should." His words take me back and I wonder if he is referring to her, as if he can read my thoughts. Before I can contemplate it he rolls away, extending a hand to help me up. After a few seconds of hesitation, I take it, pulling myself up and brushing off the fallen leaves from my bottom.

"Now this time, I want you to step forward with your right foot, throwing off the balance between the two of us." He gestures with his body, mimicking the motions. "The attacker won't expect it, and it will give you enough leverage to break his grasp on your wrists." He raises his arms in front of him, crossing them into an X as I did, then throws them down to his sides with such power that his hands almost become a blur. I nod, not saying a word, and get into position.

When he comes at me again, I am more prepared. When he approaches me, I don't hesitate. I do as he says, disturbing the balance and I feel his grip loosen as I throw my arms down.

"You let me break away."

"I did."

"But, why? In a real situation, I could never overpower a male as strong as you." I nearly gag on the unintended compliment.

"First of all, you are right. You may never physically be as strong as I am. But your attacker won't anticipate your moves. He won't see your fight coming." I nod, not entirely convinced.

"Plus, you will get stronger. You will build up strength as you train. You may not be as strong as a warrior, but you will be strong."

"That may be the nicest thing you've ever said to me." I cross my arms in disbelief .

"Don't get used to it." He deadpans, and I roll my eyes as I tighten the leather tying my hair back.

We go again, and this time I find myself flat on my back again. Huck pins me with his hips and my insides curl.

"Flip me over," he says as if that were even possible. My brows furrow.

"I can't."

"You can. Think about it. How can you get leverage?" I try not to let his intense stare distract me as I wiggle beneath him, trying to find a weak spot. I lift my knee, gaining control and footing.

"Good, but you need more than that." The dried leaves poke my tender skin at my neck and it takes everything in me to ignore it.

"Stretch out your arm and push with your foot. Roll me off of you." I don't see how this could possibly work, my small body hauling his hulking frame over, but despite my doubt I give it a try. In one fluid motion, I do as instructed and roll. I can feel the moment I push his body off balance and he rolls away into the fallen leaves beside me. Before I can accuse him of letting me push him off, he reminds me of the importance of the element of surprise.

"With enough force, your attacker will not see this maneuver coming. Once he's off balance, you have the upper hand." I shudder imagining a scenario where it could ever get to this point. Me pinned to the ground by somebody who isn't welcome. I shake off the image as he helps me up again and a question surfaces in my mind .

"So, your necklace, it's to start a fire?" I pant through the words, exhausted from the training.

"You trying to stall, Snowflake?"

"Maybe."

"Sort of. It's a spark striker. Enough for me to manipulate. I can't create fire on my own, but I can control it. Grow it into something more. Coy actually came up with the idea when I was preparing for a mission that required minimal supplies. I needed something discrete and on my person at all times." As he speaks, I can't help but think how fitting that his eyes resemble twin flames of amber, complimenting his ability so well.

“That’s pretty thoughtful.” I follow the lines of the chain against Huck’s broad chest before dipping into his shirt.

“Coy’s a good man. Not that I have to tell you that.” He eyes me knowingly and my smirk tugs at the corner of my lips before I can stop it. For some reason, his implication makes me shy. I direct the subject back to him.

"So basically, you always have fire at your fingertips." My breathing is finally back to normal, but I still have so many questions. I've never really talked to someone else about their abilities, save for my mother.

"In a manner of speaking, sure."

"That's why you're always so hot," I mutter more to myself and immediately wish the world would open up and swallow me whole when I realize what I've just said. Huck's face makes it all the worse, a shit-eating grin shining bright .

"Shut up. Let’s train." I shake off the sticky feeling inside and anchor my stance.

After a few more lessons, the sun winks out of the sky and Huck leads the way back to the cabin. A purple haze of dusk surrounds us as we walk.

With each step I wonder about my mother’s mirror and when it will finally reveal my whereabouts to her—when my time will be up. I just hope I'll be long gone by the time that happens.

"What's your story?" I blurt out the words on the way back to the cabin. They sound so much louder in the dark, somehow.

His answer comes almost too quickly.

"I don't have a story." I nearly laugh. Everyone has a story, whether they want to admit it or not.

“Oh, come on. Give me something.”

"I did. I told you about my spark striker." He smirks to himself, proud at his diversion.

"That barely counts. Tell me something more," I say simply, with no hint of motive in my words.

"I joined the Arions." Oh, this man is infuriating.

"More," I demand. He doesn't say anything at first, then pauses for a minute, physically pauses from walking. When I stop and turn to him, he looks at me quizzically, like he's trying to solve a puzzle. Trying to calculate something.

"You really want to hear it?"

"I really do." He pauses again, those amber eyes gazing into mine. Then he starts to walk again.

"Okay, well here it is." I catch up to him as he begins.

"I was mostly raised in the barracks during my later adolescence. But before that, I had a more traditional upbringing, what some would call a ‘normal’ life. I had a mother and a father and a twin brother who was the closest thing I could identify to as a soulmate. He felt like the other half of who I was." I don't miss the use of past tense and I am already regretting asking for his story.

“When he died, I joined the warriors.” Guilt eats at me for opening this tender wound of his, but then something dawns on me.

“The picture,” I whisper to myself. The picture I found that first day at the cabin of the woman with two bundles in her arms. It must have been Huck and his twin with their mother. I think to mention it to him but then think better of it and keep it to myself.

“What?” Huck looks at me quizzically.

“Nothing,” I shake my head a bit too vigorously and my throat constricts.

“I’m sorry. About your brother.” There is nothing else to say. He grunts a response and I leave it at that.

I wake with a chill to find I am the first one up, unable to find sleep no matter how hard I try. Visions of my mother's spine-chilling looking glass haunt my mind every time I drift. So, I quit fighting the losing battle and wake. I pour the water for the coffee and notice the fire has completely died down overnight. I set my hand above the coals. Cold. Damn it. Then I notice the wood box is empty too. Really?

As quietly as I can, I don my boots and creep out the back door to grab some more wood, and wouldn't you know it—the tarp blew off the wood pile, and the logs are soaked from last night’s freezing rain. After debating what to do for about a minute, I decide I might as well bring the wet logs in to at least attempt at a fire. There's no way I'm going to ask Huck to heat the pot for me, not after everything he’s done for me.

I place the logs onto the grate and grab some dried bark from the bottom of the wood box, hoping that will be enough kindling to at least start a small flame to dry out the sodden logs. I strike the match on the stone fireplace and let the kindling catch. My breath snags in my throat as I wait for the flame to die out, knowing this task is hopeless. The bark burns as the fire spreads and the sodden logs begin to steam. An overall good sign. But before long, the fire slowly dies out, the wet logs smoldering. The last of the flames wink out into orange embers.

Great, no coffee this morning.

I blow out my breath in a heavy sigh.

Quicker than lightning, a flame tears past my face, striking the woodpile and growing into an inferno. Whipping my head around, I find Huck standing behind the couch smirking at me.

"You're welcome." He winks before walking towards the front door, leaving the cabin without another word .

I stare at the closed door, contemplating how I didn't hear him moving around behind me, how he was able to start the fire with sodden logs. Was I so preoccupied with the fire that I didn't notice him? I've learned to be a better hunter than that these past few months, out on my own. I should have heard him, detected his movements.

Perplexed, I try to shake off the feeling and continue with the coffee, all the while wondering why Huck hasn’t kicked me out yet.