[mistral4543]

Despite the fact that her teeth were chattering and her body trembling uncontrollably from the coldness, she drew warmth from her long-lost friend's companionship. The feel of his fingers was comforting, and she marvelled silently at how their reunion had come about. Then, to break the silence, she gave a wry chuckle. "Just like old times, huh?”

Except that life was much more complicated now. In the old times, they would be spurring each other on, trying to find the best line to continue their stories. In the old times, they would be swinging wooden swords at each other, laughing when these collided. In the old times, they would be hauling each other out of the garden pool and scrambling up the servants’ staircase, rushing to find fresh clothes to change into, before they were caught for their undignified antics.

They could still do all that, she supposed wistfully. But they had grown up, especially over the last eight years. What had happened in his share of the years, she wondered, subconsciously turning her head to study his profile. Was now the right time to trade their stories? There did not seem much else to do, anyway.

“My dear Altair…” the words tripped off her tongue comfortably enough, but the sentence halted as a thought occurred to her and she blushed, before hastily continuing. “You’re tired, so you should rest.” His stories would have to wait. She could not push him like that, knowing how he must be suppressing his pain. “I, on the other hand, have plenty of energy.” The second chuckle came out more like an ironic grunt. “I’ll entertain you, for once. In repayment for those tales you humoured me with..."

And so, she began. She spoke quietly, sometimes so softly that she did not know if he had heard what she was saying. She did not look at him as she relayed her story; somehow, she could not bear to. It was as if she would lose her ability and courage to talk if she faced him, and she could not understand why. Was he not her dearest friend? It had been so easy back then, to do so. What had changed? Why did it feel so strange now, their proximity?

Hurriedly, she went on. How the years had crawled by, at first. The first couple of them especially tedious, when she had lost this best friend. How she would closet herself to her room, sulking and refusing her meals, refusing to listen to reason about family obligations and the upholding of family honour and wealth. Then, she had undergone an aggressive phase. Haunted by the image of him riding through the woods and enjoying the hunting seasons with his other companions, she had dedicated her pursuits to archery and horseriding. She avoided the forest behind Alesbridge, of course; there were enough hunting grounds in the other lords’ lands as she began to be handed around like a prize trophy for display. What saved her, unexpectedly, was her exuberance and energy; if she herself could not fully harness it, what hope had the beaux to whom she was being recommended of doing so? One by one, they admired her looks, wit and skill, only to be retreat, threatened by these very qualities. It signified nothing; she cared too little for them to feel anything. All through the years, she had hoped and prayed for Altair’s news; that was better than not knowing if he was even alive. But no news came, and she began to lose heart. She had thought that he reciprocated her trust and concern, so it was a rude awakening to know that he had disappeared without a word, not even to herself. Then, her father had sought Rehan’s help in annihilating the source of the forest’s evils. Was she not capable enough for the task? Had she not proven her abilities through those painful eight years? She had taken off for the forest, out of spite and determination to show her father once and for all that she was not a Mehlingard for nothing. Now, she had only a heart of guilt and pain to show for her catastrophic blunder. Meeting Altair at a time like this, she could not help wondering what sign it was that the gods were trying to show to her...

Throughout her soliloquy, she was acutely aware of the lessening chill and lightening of her burden. Yet in the ensuing pause, she began to doubt the wisdom of telling him her story so readily. Sitting there, her back leaning against his, she had never felt so vulnerable in all her life.