The bare branches of the enormous Slavic trees clung to the deep roots of the soil--Contrasting the dim, grey color of the sky.
There along the Ruthenian trails walked two women. Their hands clutched at a finely made fruit basket. Both then let out occasional giggles as they conversed.
Both wore heavy yet elegant leathered attire. Their hair was neatly braided and supported by a petit Ushanka (a Russian winter hat)
Eleanor...! yelled Olga, her lips curled in a soft smile as she then tugged at her sister.
"Do look!" she pressed as she gestured to her side. Her sister Eleanor's eyes flickered then landed on the wild bushes. There in between the lush trees were a variety of low hanging fruits and droves of berries.
I'm going to pick them all...! she murmured giddily and ran off--Her golden ringlets fluttering against the wind as she clutched at the hem of her dress.
The lavender thread of her dress softly grazed against the cold. Eleanor smiled and shook her head. Then she too began walking.
She then watched her little sister. Her nimble hands clutched at a fruit, feeling in the skin.
Eleanor's eyes then darted. "Olga, I will look for some more, wait here" she then began to wander around.
Her emerald, blue orbs searched every bush. Her glove coated hands clutched at the basket's handle as her eyebrows frowned. Her lips then fell in a natural pout.
The disappointment was obvious for Eleanor; she then came to a halt near a river. The ice had made the river halt as the magnificent sight of it drew her in like a moth.
Eleanor stepped in closer, her eyes ever so slightly widening as she breathed in the scenery. The low rhythmic move of the snow that clung to the leaves.
The tiny droplets which clung to the only bit of green in the pile of snow, suggesting the arrival of spring.
Winter in Ruthenia was truly something…
With a mischievous curl of her lips, she then began advancing in closer, steps careful, precise as her eyes then fell to the sapphire like ice—Her heart dropped. Her eyes widened.
There beneath the beauty was horror, a man laid there–His jet black indicating his youth, his lush lashes hovered above his reddish skin.
Eleanor stepped back in terror, hands shot up to her mouth. "Master Slav…?" a murmur broke for her as she gazed at the man.
She knew who he was. He was Slav, the infamous general of Ruthenia's army.
Shaking off her surprise she quickly went back. Her knees dropped to the pile of snow, as she then connected her palms to the raw ice.
Ah… she softly winced, feeling the brutal cold seeping through her gloves. Though she gritted her lips and pounded against it.
With a few tries-the ice broke as the cold water cracked from within. Spilling out like a terrain as Eleanor's hands quickly wrapped around his torso. With great struggle she managed to pull the man out from the ice coated river.
Eleanor then patted his face, desperately. His lips had become swollen–His body had subdued to the cold.
Yet…
her face was flushed, she had never held a man, never. She gazed at his face. At his chiseled jaw coated by ice. Then at his damp raven hair which hovered over the bridge of his nose.
They were red, burning red.
Eleanor's hands trembled. She hated wars, destructions. Even the mere cause of them. This man wasn't anything to her.
"Master Slav!" she pulled at his collar. Leaning in as she sobbed. A strand of her chestnut luck spilled out as it then grazed against his veiny hands.
Slav…
Slav…
My eyes slowly but surely began to open. My head hurt; my body ached. I then focused on the soft voice which uttered my name.
I struggled immensely to fully open my eyes as my vision was still blurred–Yet I still heard her, her nimble fingers patting at my face.
In seconds, my eyes locked onto a pair of ocean-like blues. Calm, vigilant–and undeniably feminine.
Her eyebrows held a soft frown as she examined me with ease. Her hair was covered while a strand fell on my hand.
I glanced at it, then at her small frame.
My lips curled, if this is the angel…my head tilted as I pressed my face against her palm. A thread of my lock grazing against it.
"Then I'm gladly ready to be taken by her"
Eleanor gazed at him as she suppressed a gasp. Master Slav? She then lets out something between a laugh and a wail.
You are awake…!
The faint curl of my lips never leaving me as she then held on to my shoulder blade–Her hands ever so slightly faltering as she felt my intense gaze.
Her sapphire eyes then locked with my warm blue–Her breath hitched as the space between us shrunk.
I will need to tend your wound…master…
A murmur left her rosy lips. "For that we will need to surely leave"
Leaving…? My jaw clenched as the events of last night flooded in.
Though something about her made my pulse slow. Maybe it was the natural pout of her lips, maybe, her touch.
Nevertheless, my eyes then fell as I then nodded without uttering another word.
I then got up with a grunt. She seemed taken back by my towering height. As she then locked her hands around my armored body.
My eyes shot to her, though she didn't look my way. Her face was to her right as if to avoid me.
"Eleanor"... she murmured.
Eleanor... Eleanor... I practiced it with ease as if the name was something I will daily call on.
I watched her as if to read her. Not once she looked my way.
We walked without uttering another word.
To be continued>>>>>>>>>