Youth

#79 - Friend or Foe?

The air tasted like old, musty perfume. The taste you get in your mouth when you playfully try on the blouse of your late grandmother from when she was in her early twenties. It was pungent, yet nostalgic. [Y/n] realised her comparison definitely didn't fit what she could smell or taste at all; all she knew was the smell and taste was familiar, yet she had become estranged to it. Or perhaps it did smell like old, musty perfume. She could no longer tell.

She sat, slightly uncomfortably, on a dead tree stump. The tree hadn't been chopped, it had been gnawed through by some mammal - likely a beaver - and so it was uneven and not the kindest to the posterior, but [Y/n] didn't care much for comfort right now. It matched how she felt internally - on edge.

[Y/n] felt alone, despite the small group of faeries that surrounded them. Initially, Al had insisted his troops should go to the front lines and that he could take care of [Y/n] alone, however Feron had said otherwise. So a group of faeries hid in the undergrowth, and Al's main body was close also.

The smaller, split-off version of Al appeared from inside [Y/n]'s pocket, his tiny glistening wings fluttering as he hovered before her.

"You need to stop panicking," Al said, his voice minuscule, however [Y/n] could just about hear him. "It's gonna be fine. You're well protected and the King doesn't dislike you either." [Y/n] hesitated, nodding her head.

"What do you think will become of Vihren after this war, Al?" [Y/n] questioned quietly. She held out her hand so the boy could sit on her finger. He leaned back and looked ponderous - or at least [Y/n] assumed he did; it was hard to work out what his expression was.

"It really depends," Al managed. "If we lose, we will lose more innocent people to Kutelo, and more of our loved ones will be enslaved," he said honestly. "If we win, we annihilate Kutelo and take back what is rightfully ours." He looked down. "But maybe someone will come along with another idea. You never know; not every war is as simple as winning or losing," he muttered.

[Y/n] was about to comment on Al's statement, but the faerie hopped back into her furry coat pocket and hid. [Y/n] then detected distant footsteps, and she held her breath. She was scared - what if whoever she encountered ambushed her and killed her in a split second? Her whole plan would be ruined.

Thankfully, these footsteps seemed rather relaxed. They weren't hiding themselves, and [Y/n] assumed whoever it was felt no reason to hide. Maybe they didn't even know she was there.

Eyes trained on the bushes the footsteps grew closer and closer to, [Y/n]'s heart rate began beating faster and faster. And when the bushes began to rattle, about to be parted, [Y/n] wondered whether she'd just drop down and have a heart attack.

The girl froze.

Worst possible outcome? Perhaps.

She stared Rayne dead in the eyes, watching as he pushed through the foliage without a care in the world. He leaned himself against a nearby tree, his green gaze trained on the human who watched him with a glare of poison and fire.

A brow raised, Rayne made sure he was the first to speak.

"Rather careless of you to waltz back without a care in the world," Rayne drawled, his tone lazy and bored, "did you miss us?" Yet he knew this wasn't the case - he could feel the magical presence around him which most certainly did not come from the mere human on the oddly shaped tree stump.

"If you're leaving to fetch some supplies or another test subject, I'm afraid you've gone the wrong way," [Y/n] commented. Rayne laughed, shaking his head.