Storm

Outside Looking In

Ryan oversaw the care of his people, for many of them had been severely injured, the King included, and for this he cursed on person for this misfortune.

Calloway.

Thankfully, the day went by faster than normal, allowing his plan to fall into place. He waited in his tent until he counted more than ten stars in the sky, slipping his stiletto into the sheath in his right black boot and stood up, the red scarf bound around his waist lifted and fell with the sudden breeze that whooshed around him.

He snuck out of the camp with no issues, no one questioned him, not even his older friend and healer, Dante, who was watching over the edge of the camp. He offered a confused look, but said nothing as Ryan walked into the forest.

Ryan glanced around before jumping up, grabbing a sturdy branch and pulling himself up. The wound on his shoulder burned and ripped open, fresh blood stained the white bandages that were applied earlier that day, causing him to pause once he was on the branch, pressing his forehead against the rough bark of the oak tree.

Once he gained his bearings, he rose to his feet and, as silently as he possibly could, jumped from limb to limb, the occasional acorn or clump of leaves fell to the ground, but that didn't lessen his stride.

He paused when he reached the edge of the village, his eyes gravitating to a large, oak chest with iron hinges and a lock. A young boy, no more then seventeen or eighteen, with black hair and a round face lay beside it, obviously supposed to be guarding the chest, but fell asleep. He laughed inwardly, refusing to lose when he was so close to his prize, the very prize he and his men couldn't find the night before.

He slipped down the tree, keeping to the shadows, the only thing that ever showed him love and comfort all those years ago, when it was just him and his sister.

He crawled towards the chest, stiletto in hand as he pauses at the boy, he didn't want to have to kill him, but he would if the boy woke and tried to raise the alarm. He poked his arm with a finger, watching, tense, as the boy lifted his hand, swatting away an invisible enemy and rolled over on his side.

Once certain the boy wouldn't wake up easily, he picked the lock and open the chest, his eyes widening with shock as he peered into the chest.

Diamonds, sapphires, opals, rubies, gold, silver, pewter, silverware, and jewelry all glittered like the sun before him, beckoning him with a seductive grin. But there was something missing, an emerald craved in the shape of a wolf howling to a dragon, his families heirloom of centuries. Calloway had stolen it from him years ago, and he had made it his life's work to steal it back.

With a snarl of disgust, he shut the chest and ran behind the houses, just in time, it would seem. Calloway marched up to the boy, kicking at his feet with a growl. "Get up, damn ye!" He snapped, using a key to check the chest, making sure nothing was gone.

Ryan didn't pause to see what happened next, for something was, indeed, missing. A silver chain with a silver and opal, carved wolf's head, he thought of his sister when he snagged it, the perfect gift.

But he was so caught up in his own thoughts, he was ignorant of anyone around him until he collided with someone, someone much smaller than he. He instinctively wrapped his arms around the small person and twisted his body so he fell on his back, the person on top of him.

                                                                                                          XxX

Iris was out on her annual night walks, her blonde hair tied up in a braid that went down her back, catching the moons rays. She was only allowed out because he father was patrolling the streets tonight, and she would always be within shouting distance.

She held a leather bound book in her hands, and charcoal pencil in the other, she was looking for something to sketch, because for the first seven pages, it was filled with the dark gypsy from the fight, the way his eyes sparkled, his lips, the way they curl around his scar, and what she could see of his body beneath his clothing.

She shook her head and turned to the left, walking towards the forest, she was heading down a dangerous path of thinking, for if she began fantasizing about this man, she may fall in love, and thats a dangerous place to be, for that's where someone dies.

While she looked around for something to draw, she noticed something coming straight at her, she turned hr head and let out a surprised yelp, a strong body collided with her soft one, strong arms surrounding her as they fell to the ground, her head ducking, burying into the mans chest.

"Are ye aright, milady?" The mans raspy accent was intoxicating, alluring, and magical. She looked up and gasped, seeing her gypsy holding her to him.

His eyes widened in shock, he recognized her, his grip around her tightening possessively, almost squeezing the air out of her lungs. "Pl-please, let me go." She whispered, scared of her feelings and what this gypsy could do to her.

He watched her, the blue eyes that haunted her narrowed in indecision.

She squeaked as she plopped on her butt to the side of him, watching as he stood up and ran to the bridge, all care gone, he was just trying to escape, but from what? Even he did not know.