Lucian's eyes flickered open. Above him stretched an unfamiliar ceiling. To his left, a cold breeze slipped through a half-open window, tugging the curtain back and forth.
The night sky outside was clear, painted with stars. The moon hung bright, full and pearl white it shined down on his face.
Lucian rubbed his forehead and pushed himself upright, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Where am I?"
"You passed out in the woods," came a voice, soft, elegant, like it was carried to him on clouds. "Reluctant as I was to leave you lying there, I brought you to my home."
Lucian turned toward the sound.
There she sat. Amira's silver hair shimmered under the moonlight, each strand kissed by its glow. Her crimson eyes gleamed in the dark as they searched his face, brighter than before. She lounged gracefully in a wooden chair, legs crossed, dressed in a fine black nightgown that hugged her slender frame.
Only then did Lucian notice his chest was bound in fresh bandages, his forehead treated as well. His body felt cleaner somehow, the weight of blood and dirt washed away.
"Why go so far for a stranger?" he asked quietly. "Are you not afraid of me?"
Amira rose, untying the loose bun in her hair. White strands spilled over her shoulders as she crossed the floor, bare feet whispering against the cold wood with the grace of a cat.
"My hair," she said softly, handing him a steaming bowl and a glass of water, though her hands trembled, "why did you call it beautiful?"
Lucian set his feet firmly on the ground, still sitting at the edge of the bed. For the first time in weeks, his gray eyes stirred with a faint spark of life as he watched her silver hair stir in the breeze like angel wings.
"Because I've never seen hair so white… so alluring," he murmured. "It's like snow kissing the highest peaks. Paired with your crimson eyes and face as delicate as porcelain… how could any man not be intrigued?"
Uncertainty lingered in his tone. He didn't yet know her motives, nor why she had helped him. His guard remained high, his gaze sharp.
Amira's cheeks colored faintly. His words seemed to twirl in her ears, leaving her momentarily speechless.
"That," she said at last, with a stuttering smile that revealed a flash of pearl-white teeth, "is why I helped you." She tied the ribbon previously used to hold up her hair to his wrist, a well worn black piece of cloth.
"What's this?" He asked curiously.
Amira twirled her hair slowly "where I'm from," she said softly "it's a symbol of protection. So until you leave please wear it." She said with a practiced formality. "And to track you in case you get any ideas." She added quietly.
Lucian drank from the glass, then rose slowly. He bowed his head, eyes lowered.
"Thank you. You are not only beautiful… but kind." When he lifted his face again, he attempted a smile. It was crooked, awkward and born of a man raised by war rather than warmth. "I am forever in your debt. How can I repay you?"
Amira, startled by the sheer height difference now that he stood close, unconsciously studied him. Her gaze lingered over the sharp lines of his jaw, the short, messy brown hair, the storm-gray eyes that seemed nearly lifeless, yet the longer she looked, the more she glimpsed something hopeful stirring within them.
And then his smile, crooked and unpracticed, it made her laugh. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
"There's no need for repayment," she muffled through her hand. "It's rare I have visitors. Talking with you is enough." more confidently this time.
"Then I hope my conversation proves fulfilling," Lucian replied as he sat back on the bed.
"Anyway… I didn't mean to disturb you. I was only curious about something. When you're ready, I'll show you the way out of the forest, back to the road."
"Curious about what?" Lucian asked.
Amira's eyes lingered on him for a long moment, her gaze drifting over his moonlit bandaged torso, the muscles beneath, the scars. She smiled faintly instead of answering, then turned and left, shutting the door with quiet finality.
The next morning, Lucian woke to the sound of birdsong. Fresh clothes lay folded for him, which he donned quickly. He smelled clean, the stench of war scrubbed from him, Amira must have stripped and washed him while he was unconscious he guessed.
He wandered the house. Room after room proved empty, silent, but neatly decorated with paintings and simple antiques, yet filled with a faint aura of loneliness.
One room, however, stood apart. Clutter filled it, half-woven baskets, flowers pressed between books, jars of jam cooling on shelves. On a leather chair lay a pile of clothes with a bookmarked book resting on top.
Curious, Lucian picked it up and opened to the marked page.
"Being unloved is the most terrible poverty. It often walks hand in hand with loneliness and solitude. I only hope to one day find someone who can be my rock."
He set the book down carefully with a little sigh.
From the pile of clothes, a flash of red lace peeked out. Without thinking, he lifted it, only to realize too late he was holding a delicate pair of women's panties.
Lucian's face burned. He dropped them back into the pile as if they'd scalded him.
"I'll just… pretend I didn't see that." He left the room at once.
Outside, Amira sat atop a stump, weaving a basket.
"Do you live in this house alone?" he asked.
She looked up as if startled to remember she had a guest.
"Yes. My brother built it for us when I was young. We planned to live here together with maids and family." Her voice faltered, sorrow flashing across her face. "But… he was killed many years ago."
Lucian nodded bluntly. "I'm sorry. Many of my brothers have died as well."
Amira brushed her lap, stood, and bent briefly to clean up her things. Lucian's gaze, unbidden, followed the curve of her long legs. He remembered the red lace from earlier, and his imagination betrayed him. Heat crept into his face.
He'd never felt attraction like this before, not because he lacked desire, but because war had consumed his life. There had never been room for it, and now with such a beautiful woman in front of him, his mind had nowhere else to go but Amira.
Unsure what to do with this strange new feeling, he looked away quickly.
"So… it seems you're feeling well after sleeping for three days. Are you ready to go?" Amira asked as she walked toward him.
"U-uh… yes. Well, actually—" He turned to face her again.
Her eyes caught his, and she tilted her head slightly. A loose strand of silver hair fell against her cheek. Lucian froze, lost in the depths of her ruby gaze. He forgot what he was about to ask, that he wanted to stay one more day.
"Yes?" she prompted softly.
"…Never mind. Let's go."
The woods proved a maze of twists and turns. Lucian followed Amira carefully through the dense paths.
"Three days? Really?" Lucian asked.
Amira giggled "yes!" She turned toward him "you even snored at one point, shaking the whole house."
Lucian rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"Why live so far from everyone else?" he asked.
"That's a secret!" Amira lifted a finger to her lips in a playful shh.
"Such a craving for solitude. Are you not lonely?" Lucian asked.
She laughed lightly. "You're very blunt, aren't you, um…" She stopped walking, frowned slightly, then tapped her head with her knuckles, sticking out her tongue in a silly gesture. "I never even asked your name, did I?"
The moment made Lucian's chest feel strangely warm. Her laughter, her little expression, it disarmed him completely. A faint blush crept into his cheeks.
"…Lucian," he said quietly. "My name is Lucian."
"Lucian?" she repeated with a smile. "What a gentle name."
He blinked, staring down at the hands that had taken thousands of lives.
"Gentle? Thank you." he whispered to himself.