Author's Note

I thought I published this chapter like a month ago- come to find that it's been sitting in my drafts for nearly two months! I feel awful, I'm so sorry guys, for the wait and for the fact that it's a pipsqueak chapter! 

Marmalade was perfectly content in trailing behind, ahead, and all around the moving duo of man and woman. 

In one strong hand, Rowena held a torch dipped in kerosene gas and the other, she settled it on the butt of her gun. Sal followed her footsteps, sometimes forcing all three of them to a stop to rejuvenate themselves with water from a thawing spring or a few bites of his own homemade deer jerky. 

Marmalade steered clear of Rowena though, only inching into her personal space if beckoned or tricked by the promise of food. By nature, the dog was curious- she sniffed everything that her nose would come in contact with, but when she attempted to take a long whiff of Rowena, the only scent she caught was the whispers of something much more dangerous than a frail human like her. The remnants caused her to duck her head in submission and curl between Sal's legs, seeking safety from her owner, who seemed oblivious of the human threat.

Rowena wasn't bothered by the animal's obvious dislike towards her, most livestock, big or small, kept their distance from Rowena in a way that spoke of her past. She didn't exactly smell like a human anymore, she hadn't for almost two decades. 

"We're stopping," the first thing said in the stretch of two miles came from Sal. The young man stood with his dog's face between his gloved hands and his dark eyes already searching for something that could help create a fire- even though the attempt was practically useless. Covington has been blanketed with darkness for the past eight weeks, the sun wasn't due to rise for another three, and Sal did not have vision fit for the dark. 

"We've only been walking for four hours-" Rowena began with anger evident in her voice. If Sal wanted to accompany her, and he did if his consistent insisting told her anything, than he would have to keep up with the harsh travelling conditions or turn back now. 

"Four hours, Miss Maverick- we all need a break, so when we really need the strength, we will have it," he spoke. He  took out his own light- a lantern relying on batteries- and two others that lit up the surrounding twenty feet. It reviled nothing but endless and clear stretches of snow. 

"The forest is about a quarter of a mile west of us, and if we are where I believe we are, my family's hunting cabin is just a mile deeper. Of course, it'll be cold, but it offers us shelter," Salix assured the older woman as his gloved hand wrapped around the muzzle of Marmalade in a show of affection. 

Rowena opened her mouth in attempt to talk herself out of resting, but snapped her lips shut when she realized how utterly exhausted she actually was. 

Sal grinned at the obvious victory that came with her lips suddenly morphing into a tight line, obviously displeased by having to halt for the night, but intelligent enough to know that without the halt, neither of them- or Marmalade, for that matter- would ever make it to their destination. 

"We rest for eight hours," Rowena told him, and tried not to let her teeth chatter as she did. Alaska was cold during winter, but with the absence of light, it seemed ever colder- harsher. 

"Eight hours is just enough," Salix grinned. "We'll pick up any wood that can start a fire so I can really warm up the cabin," without another word, he pushed his face cover back over his mouth- the thick yarn proving to be as efficient as a muzzle, and Rowena was grateful for that. The boy was kind, but most of the words he said were accompanied by reasons why they needed to backtrack or rest- reminding Rowena she wasn't accustomed to the rough terrain like the young man was. 

*

 Rory could feel the unsettled feeling in his bones, as if the marrow was replaced with adrenaline that forced him to be alert. In every piece of his being, he was hyper-aware of seemingly anything that was inclusive to himself- the feeling of cool sheets beneath his bare skin; the dried saliva on the edges of his mouth; the warm, moving rag soothing his headache away on the teenager's temples with circular motions.

"Ma...?" He whispered aloud, blinking awake as he tried to see through his blurry vision due to only just waking up. There was light straining through his eyelashes from a nearby lamp, oddly placed as if the bulb was attempting to blind him. It was his bedroom's lamp, which was nailed to walls he painted powder blue eight years ago with his mother.

"No, just Rowan," his sister spoke. Her voice sounded like heaven, felt like it, too, due to the the obvious tension in his shoulders suddenly unwinding itself because of her presence.

Rory lifted up his hand, capturing her wrist in his in attempt to prove she was alive and breathing and right there next to him. When he felt her slender arm beneath her heavy sweatshirt, he hiccuped out something between a sob and a laugh. She was there, she was real. Rowan was right beside him, in blood and not just in his imagination.

"The crazy bastard... Dimitri- he...where is he? Did you- did you kill him?" Rory questioned with obvious hope that somehow his sister had overpowered the intruder and now, the both of them were cocooned in safety and warmth while awaiting for their mother's delayed arrival.

"Crazy bastard is beside you, thanks," the voice of Rory's nightmares spoke, evaporating every single thought of safety from the teenager. When Rory cracked his eyes open again and focused on the man, Dimitri stood rather unimpressed with his arms crossed and his upper lips stitched up into a scowl- as if he was the one forced to be in the presence of someone... or something, Rory wasn't sure, that prompted a panic attack.

"You had a panic attack, Ro," his sister whispered to him, unfazed by Dimitri's presence when the last time he was awake and beside Rowan, she had threatened decapitation for the man. "Dimitri managed to stabilize you," she smiled lightly, her grin almost shy- as if she was flustered by the presence of the psychopath at his bedside.

"What I remember," Rory seethed with as much anger he could fit into his words and squeeze through his gritted teeth. "Is that thing," he dropped his sister's wrists so he could point an accusing finger at Dimitri, which earned him an amused gaze before it morphed into a hard glare. "Going fucking insane and locking me in mom's shower, and him- him trying to calm down me down, which he didn't because- hello, that blood all over him isn't his, Rowan. Would either of you please tell me, then, whose blood that is? Who is to say it isn't mom's? Or- or, our horses? Or the cows?! The chickens?" He screamed until his throat ached; it was one of the first times he ever let himself flow free with this coped up anger. Rory delighted in the new found freedom that proved to be fleeting due to the low growling emitting from his left side.

"See?! The man is growling," Rory whispered to his sister, as if he was attempting to save her from the jaws of the intruder. He finally scooted up to his butt, leaning on the palms of his hands while he glared at the opposing man. "Who are we but fools to trust this maniac?"

"You've always been such a fucking brat," Dimitri spoke, rolling his emerald eyes as he went to the nearest breakable item and, without any other form of encouragement, viciously swiped it off of the bedside table to erupt into glass shards on the wooden floor. Rory screamed with a mixture of fear and surprise, before anger riled inside of him. His old lamp, a porcelain cartoon tiger with powder blue accents as the light's base, was ruined in front of his eyes for little to no reason.

"He does that often, I've already lost my two favorite antique dolls to the 'Dimitri's an Asshole and Needs Anger Management Foundation'," Rowan declared beside him, hardly effected by this man's brash and uncalled-for behavior.

"Dude?!" Rory was trying to find words because he was scared and wildly confused and now, one of his favorite mementos from his childhood stood shattered on the ground beneath. "Why would you do that?" He whispered as his voice began to crack from a sudden attack of unwanted emotions. Everything was moving too fast; now the man that had supposedly wanted to kill him was an alright guy who just crushed his fucking lamp and- and- a-and-

"No, no," Rory hadn't realized he was saying anything aloud but there were two hands, soft palms that had to be his sister's, soothed him with sweet 'shhh's. The apparently angry Dimitri dropped to the floor, gathering the shards of the lamp, and desperately tried to put it back on the bedside table in attempt to help sooth the teenager.

Rory's eyes only widened at the creme and blue piles of glass and curled into his own hands as he began to cry.

"I'm... uh, sorry- I forget, I forget how much humans care for their, uh, worldly possessions," Dimitri spoke from beside him, his voice only hot breath on the nape of Rory's neck- it felt as though he was attempting to let his presence apologize for him. "I'm sorry, I can- I'll fix it for you, if you want... or... I'll find another, just like it- I'm sorry, I'm-"

He was interrupted by the sarcastic tone of Rowan, her hands tight around her brother's shoulders. "Asshole, you never apologized for my damn dolls!"

Dimitri seemed lost for a moment, utterly confused before he let his expression morph back into neutral. "That's because I'm rather bound to your brother, as we previously spoke of-"

"Bound? What the- what the... you both need to explain yourselves or..." Rory narrowed his eyes, which were blurry with tears, at Dimitri, who had cut his fingers from scooping up the ruins of his lamp with his bare hands. "I won't forgive you, Dimitri."

The man looked as if he was being torn apart at the seams, like he was fighting the inevitable. The confused expression made something warm and attentive curl up inside Rory, who shoved it back down with an emotional plunger that left no room for even the slightest positive thought of the man in.

Dimitri turned himself around and sat on the edge of the bed, his close presence and his warm breath making an obvious absence that Rory begrudgingly took notice of. He blames the temperature, it was beneath seventy degrees in his bedroom.

"It'd...I- you're very important to me, Rory, and- and, unfortunately, that makes my- me, makes me a bit out of control, aggressive- and... I don't like it, but I've waited so long... and I saw the opportunity, and the others... the others saw the opportunity too," Dimitri had stood up with his musings, tracking back and forth around the mattress as Rowan and Rory both watched him in attempt to understand him better. "You forgive me right, Rory? Don't you?"

The boy stared at the man, utterly confused and lost; his mind wasn't even attempting to unravel the obvious meaning of his words. "Who the hell are you?" 

Author's Note

Can you tell that Rory has had a really stressful day? Also, that he is a bit of a manipulative shit. >:)

*Sighs* I love Salix, but then I'm like Dimitri! And then I'm like... no, the real love is for Marmalade, duh. 

What did you like? What did you not? What can I work on?

Is this becoming confusing or boring? Ugh, I'm sorry.