In The Night

CHAPTER EIGHT

~VIII~

The sun was setting and the wildlife started to settle as darkness crept over the land and more daring creatures began to lurk. They stalked through the looming trees of the forest and hunted their prey quickly and efficiently. They ensured their distance from the wooden fortress standing frighteningly close to their dens, for far more menacing monsters resided there and not even mother nature's most deadly predators dared to cross such cursed beings path.

Inside the unknown building, as high as the furthest floor from the ground, a rugged man sat hunched in the darkened corner of a tiny room, his injured yet bandaged leg stretched out in front of him and his un-trusting eyes locked securely on the small, sleeping figure beneath the thin bed sheets. The grand, wooden house's residents were collected outside the room speaking in hushed whispers, voicing their concerns towards their new guests.

When Ainslie awoke for the second time upon the comforting softness of a bed, inside the same bare room as before, she did not struggle to sit and felt no fear piercing her heart. She distinctly recalled Allister standing above her, with his sturdy arms wrapped around her weak frame, preventing her from crumbling harshly to the ground as she lost consciousness, and trusted him enough to not let her come in any harms way.

A wavering breath escaped her chapped lips as Ainslie relaxed into the mattress, her wide eyes staring blankly up at the plain wood panelled ceiling. It took a few seconds for her sight to adjust to the dim lighting but Ainslie was sure of where she was. So far, from what little of the house she had seen, the building seemed to be dreadfully dull. Perhaps these rooms were not used often and that was why she and Allister had been placed in them. Regardless, the natural appearance had a calming effect on Ainslie's mind, it was startlingly refreshing not to have colossal portraits hanging on every wall or random, unneeded statues lining each corridor to ungraciously remind others of your wealth. Her home seemed purely materialistic where as here there was little else but the people to bring the place alive.

A heavy grunt from the floor startled Ainslie out of her musings and had her shooting painfully to a sitting position.

Slumped in the corner of the room - seemingly guarding the door with a dark scowl etched on his face - sat a mountain of a man with bulging muscles, inky hair and skin so pale it was almost translucent. For the first time she could clearly see his face; his thick, wild hair was brushed back and the filth and grime had been washed from his otherwise flawless skin.

Ainslie inhaled sharply - awed by the difference she saw in Allister after only a few simple changes. He was far from perfection, his nose was crooked, his lips uneven and his dark eyes seemed so haunted and emotionless as he gazed heatedly away from her - unaware that she was conscious - that Ainslie felt a compulsion to discover his past horrors, to somehow help him, and yet despite it all Ainslie believed him to be absolutely faultless.

His battered qualities showed his strength and will to survive, his astounding ability to persevere through the darkness. He was her guardian, her protector; everything a man should be and everything her past acquaintances were not.

"Why are you sat on the floor?" Ainslie's voice was nothing but a rough whisper. At the unexpected sound Allister's body jolted. He turned to blink his earthy eyes up at her slowly - as if vacating a trance - and attempted to sit straighter, wincing as his leg jostled against the cool, wooden floorboards.

Instantly Ainslie's gaze shot to the injured leg, her concern doubling when she saw the cloth wrapped tightly around his bare upper thigh. She was tremendously relieved that no blood was visible, assuring that his traumatic injury was heeling, but a troubled frown marred her innocent face none the less.