Hello,  my darlings! Sorry for the wait, but as a reward for your patience, I've made this chapter a bit longer then usual! Enjoy, and please vote and comment if you think it deserves it! ❤

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The pair decided to start making a shelter to sleep under after Clinton mentioned the gathering clouds above them. By now they were well within the forest. They had come across banana, and mango trees, and Abigail felt assured now that at least they wouldn't starve.

The sound of the ocean near told the two that they were near the place where the most palm trees would be. It was suggested by Clinton that they use fallen branches off of the trees to create a roof to keep the rain off them. Before it was achieved, both their arms ached.

"It's not as big as I thought it would be," Abigail stated uncertainly after about 20 minutes of work. She carried more branches, and dropped them down onto the ground near the shelter. She picked up one, and started weaving and layering them where rain still might get through. 

Thoughts of the two of them staying dry under the shelter, propelled through her mind, and she was doubtful if they would be able to have much space. To stay away from Clinton was proving harder then she thought.

"I don't know if that's such a big problem..."

Abigail looked up to see Clinton with arms full of branches, smirking down at her. Her heart took a wild leap, and she looked down, flustered. Choosing to ignore his comment, she focused instead on minimising what it did to her instead. Her heart raced, and she could feel him studying her. She took a big breath in, and managed not to give in to looking up again at Clinton.

Clinton watched as Abigail ignored him. He pressed his lips together, aware of the hurt and fear that was stopping her from being free about her feelings for him. He busied himself with patching up the opposite side of the tent-shaped shelter.

The sound of the tide was combined with the gentle trickling of the stream nearby. They had chosen a spot near the stream so they could access fresh water at any time. It was about two minutes from where they set up into the forest, and the beach was five minutes away.

Clinton remembered, when Abigail and he had been courting, they had taken a walk along the local beach. The water had been calm, and a beautiful blue. They had been together for about two weeks, and they had made their way into the near park. They rested on a bench, and that was the first time they had kissed.
Clinton smiled to himself as he recalled the way she had looked at him after, her face adoring.

He sighed.

He was going to need more then a kiss to convince her that nothing should have the power to bring them apart.
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The sun was setting, and Clinton could see the purple, orange, and pink colours streaming through the trees. An idea flew into his mind, and he looked over at Abigail who was finishing a ripe mango, sitting on a rock. He grinned impishly, and stood up.

He walked away a bit from their spot, and when he was sure Abigail wasn't looking, he started digging through the damp soil. After a little while, he had found a handful of fat, squirming worms. He smirked, and got up, and started walking towards Abigail. He held his hand slightly behind his back as he approached his girl.

"Taste good?" Clinton's control of his face gave away nothing.

Abigail's head turned upwards. "Yes, thank you."

"I have something for you, darling." Clinton took on a serious expression, and watched as Abigail's face turned confused. "Can you stand up?"

"Clinton," Abigail sighed, "Please, don't make this harder then it needs to be for any of us."

"Please, Abigail." Clinton pressed, the worms feeling sticky and slimy in his hand.

She stood up, and Clinton stepped closer towards her. "Abigail, I wanted you to have these..."

Abigail saw his hand come from around his back, and saw his smirk, but was too late to run. She turned and tried to get away, but Clinton used his free arm to ensnare her around her waist, and then dumped the wriggly creatures down the back of her dress-like undergarment. Abigail screamed, trying to get out of his arms. Once Clinton had managed to tip every last worm down, he bolted.

Abigail jumped around, squealing, and yelling after Clinton.

"Don't you like my present?" Clinton yelled over her screams of horror after he retreated about 15 paces away. "I picked them out especially for you!"

"Clinton, wait till I get my hands on you! Just wait!" Abigail shook out the last worm, and now she sprinted for Clinton.

Clinton laughed and raced away. He heard Abigail behind him, and picked up his pace. He ran towards the beach, and just as his feet hit the sand, Abigail landed on top of him. They both fell to the sand, and Clinton had the breath knocked out of him. He gasped as he felt Abigail's fingers find their way to his sides, and with alarm as she started tickling him furiously.

"How does it feel to be on the receiving end?" Abigail was now laughing at Clinton as he writhed beneath her.

"Abigail, you're awful! Stop, I can't breath!"

"Oh no, it's payback for that lovely surprise, my dear," Abigail giggled.

Suddenly, Clinton was on top of Abigail, and before she could struggle, he had found her weak spot. Her sides ached from laughing, and Clinton kept on tickling under her knees, unmercifully. The sound of their laughter rippled over the water. Clinton finally stopped when he got Abigail to promise not to tickle him if he let her up.

"You beast," Abigail gasped, and she grinned after she slapped his arm. "You're horrible! How could you do such a thing? You know I hate worms!"

"But they were friendly worms," Clinton insisted.

Abigail rolled her eyes, and laughed.

The two sat on the sand, and became quiet. The beach as it rolled onto the sand was enough to just listen to for the moment, and Abigail hugged her knees, and rested her chin on them. Clinton looked over at Abigail, inches away from him, out of the corner of his eye. They made eye contact, and this time Abigail didn't look away immediately. Behind them, the birds chirped quietly as they settled in for the night in the trees.

"It feels so peaceful out here." Abigail's voice broke through Clinton's thoughts.

A few more moments passed, and Clinton noted with disappointment that the sun had almost fully disappeared behind the horizon. He was just about to suggest they head back before it got too dark when Abigail spoke.

"When I thought you were dead, I knew I could never survive without you by my side. I felt so dead inside. You don't know how scared I was to live life without you." She paused, and Clinton stayed quiet. "The thing is, I've already been living my life without you. And it just gets worse as time goes on."

"You know nothing's stopping you from being with me everyday of your life."

Abigail turned to him. "You see, that's where you're wrong. I can't be with you, not ever. It would never be safe, it would never be something which your family and friends would understand, or tolerate. You know that better then I do."

Clinton reached and took Abigail's hands in his own. "You are my all. I can't go on without you, and anyone who doesn't understand that can be damned."

"You know it won't work."

"If God doesn't care about race, why should we? He created us to love one another, and I won't walk away from the woman who defines that love. We belong as one, and I can tell you, we will fulfil this love, and to hell with the demons who see it as anything but beautiful!" Clinton's eyes never left Abigail's as he spoke. "I promise to make that as clear to you as I can before I let you walk away from this."

Abigail tried her best to crush the hope rising within her, and found a dangerous yearning in her tone as she whispered, "Clinton, I wish things would turn out as you say they will..." Her eyes misted as she spoke next. "But one day you will see me for how your family do: a coloured woman, whose worth is no more then a wretched dog." She pulled her hands out of Clinton's, and got up.

"If we want to find our shelter, we must move now." She left him behind, grinding his teeth with anger and frustration.

When they got back to the shelter, the trees blocked out most of the faint orange light, and Clinton realised how cold it had gotten. Abigail continued to walk in the direction of the stream. Clinton knew better then to follow her. He sat down on the rock Abigail had been on shortly before, and rested his head in his hands.

He had felt how close he had gotten to her heart before she had slammed it's gates in his face.  He held onto the hope that had been created by their conversation. He just wished she would let him take her into his arms and tell her how much he loved her, and that everything would work out fine.

Clinton sat there, pawing through the day's contents. He sat up suddenly, and thoughts connected with one another, snapping into place as he remembered Abigail had gone off into the dark and had not come back.

The man stood, and walked briskly towards the stream, heart pounding. He hadn't forgotten about the men he saw earlier. Had they found her out there, alone, and done something to her? His fists curled in anger at the thought. Had she slipped and knocked her head on the rocky bottom of the stream, and was now lying there not able to breath?

"Abigail?" Clinton shouted, his head whirling with the possibilities of her whereabouts.

He searched for a couple more minutes before he remembered his knife was back at the shelter where he had left it after they had used it to cut the fruit up. The faintest glow of the sunset guided him back to the direction of the place. He tripped twice in his haste, and by the time he came within sight, his throat was tight with unshed tears.

"Who's there? Don't come any closer, I'm armed!" Abigail's trembling voice rang out.

Clinton swallowed and sighed with relief. "It's only me." He walked closer, and he saw she had his knife. "You can't go running off like that!"

"Running off? I came back and you were gone!" Abigail's temper ignited at Clinton's angry one.

"I thought somebody- something might have hurt you." Clinton caught himself. "I was just thinking of you laying somewhere alone!"

"Well I wasn't any less scared! How was I supposed to know you were looking for me?" Abigail's voice rose. "I thought you were someone else, and I was so afraid."

Clinton checked himself at her tearful voice. He came closer, and took the knife away from her, and sheathed it. Abigail struggled to draw in a breath without giving away the fact that she was crying. The night had fallen, and not a minute too soon. When the shape of a man appeared, she could make out no facial features, and when he didn't speak, she assumed he was a stranger. Abigail felt weak from the amount of fear that had coursed through her veins in the moment that followed.

"I'm sorry I startled you." Clinton tried taking her in his arms, but Abigail stepped back. Clinton let his arms fall to his sides.

"I'm sorry I ran off, too." Abigail rubbed her face.

"Let's call it a night." Clinton headed towards the shelter, leaving Abigail to follow.

Clinton lay down lengthwise under the shelter, and tried to get comfortable on the palm leaves they had laid on the floor. He could tell already the night's sleep wouldn't be as good as he had hoped it would be. He heard Abigail come under the shelter, and her frame press against him as she laid down beside him. There was barely enough space for them to fit with their shoulders touching, and Clinton knew if Abigail had the choice to distance herself more from him, she would. Already she was laying on her side, with her back to him.

"Goodnight." Abigail sounded tired, and she shifted.

"Night."

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