Crimson Rivers

Chapter 13

Regulus remembers the first-but certainly not the last-time he thought James was stupid. He was thirteen and James had just kissed a girl in front of him. It was the first time since he was ten years old that he thought James was anything other than wonderful. With one kiss to someone who wasn't him, Regulus felt very justified in finding him stupid, at the time.

For about a week, Regulus hated James, actually. Glared at him whenever he came near, not that James noticed. Stopped talking to him, not that James cared. He even called James stupid right to his face in a fit of pubescent anger, and all that did was make James laugh. But, for a week, James was the stupidest boy in the world, in Regulus' mind, and he hated his guts with a burning passion that rivaled the sun.

Then, of course, James brought him a flower he found on the ground, because he knew Regulus liked to press flowers in between the pages of his journals, and Regulus melted so quickly that being set on fire couldn't have exposed him faster. James didn't mean anything by it, just a mindless gesture of kindness that he was sometimes prone to, usually without any warning whatsoever, but Regulus tumbled right back into his feelings like the slippery slope it already was.

James has always been that infuriating mixture of wonderful and stupid, for as long as Regulus can remember. When he was very young, ten to thirteen, he was completely blinded by his feelings to see all the stupid parts. At twenty-five, he doesn't have those issues anymore.

"James, for the last time, shut up," Regulus hisses, glaring at him over his shoulder. The idiot is beat-boxing. They're in the middle of a death arena, and he's beat-boxing. Regulus should have killed him.

"Sorry," James says sheepishly, tossing his hatchet from one hand to the other. "I'm just...anxious. Do we really have to?"

"Yes."

"But-"

"James, we have to eat," Regulus cuts in firmly.

"Right," James mumbles, "but-"

"Shh," Regulus shushes sharply, reaching back to grab James' arm to yank him down into a crouch. As predicted, the wait has paid off, and there it is-a small deer approaching the edge of the small brook. It could be a doe, or a fawn.

Slowly, Regulus shifts to raise himself up from his perch, lifting his hand as he inhales. Just as he exhales, preparing to launch his dagger forward, a hand catches his wrist and James whispers, "Wait. Reg, wait, look. It's-they're a family."

Sure enough, a doe comes creeping out of the shrubbery to join what's clearly a fawn, their black button-noses meeting for a moment like something out of a wholesome child film. Regulus swivels his head to stare at James, who is looking at him with big, brown eyes and stupidly long eyelashes.

"James," Regulus warns quietly.

"Regulus, it's a baby. A little baby with its mum." James' eyes grow more beseeching, and he sounds so, so sad.

"We have to eat."

"I-I know, but...it's a baby. They just want a little water. Come off it, we have the berries I showed you."

"We need protein, and you know that," Regulus says softly.

James makes a small sound. "We have that dried meat, don't we? We can just-we'll eat that, and the little family can carry on, yeah? Please? Regulus, it's a little baby."

"Perfect size for us to share," Regulus mutters, and James looks more stricken by this than he did when Regulus admitted to killing Avery. Regulus rolls his eyes, then heaves a sigh and reaches out to grab a rock, tossing it towards the doe and fawn without hitting them, shaking his head as they run off quickly. Regulus glances at James. "Your spine has the consistency of a marshmallow. Just what the hell are you going to do when you need to defend yourself, James? Or when you're actually starving?"