A Raging Storm - M. Jade Glock (sight word readers .txt) 📗

Nealan and Aracane were quickly being soaked through to the bone, the relentless torrent having no mercy on their mortal bodies. With no horses they only had their own two feet for transportation, but to their dismay it wasn't getting them anywhere anytime soon, especially with the weather surrounding them. Both endured, refusing to complain to the other, letting their loathing and hatred burn and boil in their veins. They continued in silence, not even daring a glare, but instead letting the rain growl for them.
“This is entirely your fault,” Aracane said suddenly.
Nealan looked at her for the first time in hours.
“My fault?” He was trying to keep down his habitual rage. He breathed out roughly and did his best to stay calm.
“Yes, your fault. You didn't even think did you?” She held her arms more tightly crossed over her chest, trying to keep the shivers at bay.
“Well, I apologize for saving your pathetic excuse of a life,” he said sarcastically, automatically averting his gaze. The words sent a stoney feeling running through her chest but she kept it well hidden.
“If you had any mind or common sense at all, you would have at least brought horses.”
“We would have been seen with horses.”
“What's worse? Pursuit, or this blasted rain?” Her voice was shouting and pushed Nealan towards the breaking point. He turned to her with a speed he didn't know he possessed and grabbed her by the shoulders, hard.
“I should have left you there to rot and die you ungrateful stubborn woman,” he yelled above the roar of thunder. His heart hammered with fiery speed at his biting words, but he immediately regretted them and it showed on his face, though she wasn't about to forgive him. His grip hurt and she bit the inside of her lip, trying her best not to cry out. She swiped his hands away in a fit of wounded pride and feelings instead.
“Why didn't you then?” Her voice cracked as her resolve slipped away.
“Why didn't you leave me in that forsaken place to be tortured and beaten? It would have pleased you greatly to know the agony I would have suffered and endured.” She didn't bother waiting for a reply. She bolted into the distance, not daring to let that monster see her welling tears, her weakness.
“Aracane!” He called to her, but the thunder beat his voice in volume. Stubbornly, he tried again.
“Aracane, wait!” This time he went in pursuit of her. Though she wasn't faster than him, he was at a great disadvantage. He had been wearing his armor and she, conveniently, had a cotton shirt and breeches, making herself significantly lighter. She had hoped to lose him. She didn't want to see his face anymore, watch his eyes looking at her and seeing nothing but a worthless and incapable woman who couldn't hold her own, much less protect the royal family.
She ran as hard and as fast as she could until her chest burned unbearably. She slowed her gait some distance away from where she started and couldn't help but notice just how cold it was. She crossed her arms over her chest again in a feeble attempt to retain her heat, but her body wasn't the only thing drenched, so was her face that poured tears from her eyes, previously unbeknownst to her.
“Why do you continue to mock me?” She cried to the heavens. “Did you lead me out here just to have me die? Did I deserve what you're doing to me?”
She fell to her knees.
“Show me my wrongdoing!” She didn't want her life to be saved, she wanted to know what it was that she could have done that was so bad as to give her the poor life she had lead.
“Take my life! Strike me down so that I may finally be free!” If only she had her weapon, she would have done it herself, but she was at the mercy of the lightning that became more and more frequent with each passing hour.
“Do to me what you will,” she whispered, defeated. Her arms shook, hands grasping the dirt that surrounded her viciously in her fists, head bowed, tears falling to the ground.
“Aracane.” She didn't bother to look. She fully expected Nealan to be there, staring back at her, a devilish smile creeping on his lips relishing her vulnerable state.
“If you're foe, do with me as you wish, but if you're a friend, please, leave me be.”
“Aracane, Aracane.” The cloaked figure said softly, soothingly.
He came towards the girl.
“Please,” she whispered.
“Aracane, look at me,” she looked inside the hood, recognition absent in her features. The man slowly took the hood down, revealing his face. Aracane's eyes widened into a look of shock.
“Ranger?”
His smile was warm and pleasant, as if he was looking into the eyes of his own child.
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” He asked, his eyes holding a mark of pain. Aracane couldn't speak in his presence, as if the very sight of him made her temporarily mute.
Suddenly she reached out and embraced him, holding onto him like her only lifeline. His cloak swished around them, its heat inviting. She wept into his chest.
“Shh. You're alright now, I'm here,” he spoke into her hair.
“I deserve to die,” she moaned.
“Let me protect you, let me be your comfort.”
Aracane shook her head vigorously, a lump in her throat made her incapable of anything above a whisper.
“I am not worthy.”
“Why don't you let me decide that?” The sound of his voice calmed her and slightly reassured her.
They waited in the silence. The only sounds that Aracane could hear was the patter of rain droplets hitting the cover that Ranger so efficiently protected her with.
“Come, I don't want you falling ill because of this rain.” Ranger said, as if she wasn't in such a desperate position, but a lost traveler just caught in the unfortunate storm.
She didn't question him. He rose, releasing his covering and putting it on Aracane's shoulders.
“Follow me.” All she did was nod and complied with his demand.
They weaved in and out of the trees that seemed to thicken the farther they reached into the forest. It didn't take long before Ranger lead her to a hut that was hollowed out of the side of what looked like a hill. Ranger approached the door and held it open, beckoning her to come inside. Once both were inside, Ranger closed the door on the storm.
Light had filled the place because of the fire that blazed in a modest hearth. It took her a few minutes to get adjusted to the sudden change, but soon became comfortable.
“Why do you keep saving me?” Her question wasn't a surprise to the mysterious man.
“Why shouldn't I save you?” He countered.
“What have I done to deserve it?”
“Nothing,” was his simple answer.
This baffled Aracane, and Ranger could see the confusion written on her face.
“You are worth caring about, Aracane. Not because of what you do or what you've done but because you were created.”
Though the words didn't make sense to her she was still strangely at peace with what he said.
“In time you will understand,” he brought her into another embrace. “But for now you need to rest.”
He stroked her hair, his touch gentle and kind. It didn't take long before the rhythm of the rain beating outside, his soothing words, and the touch that accompanied them put her to sleep in his arms.

~`~`~`~`~

“Aracane!” The day had slowly turned into night but Nealan refused to end his search. He had lost Aracane hours ago and his tracking skills were useless in the madness he was forced to trudge through.
“Aracane!” Though hoping was practically futile Nealan swore under his breath that he wouldn't stop until he found her. The wind had picked up bringing Nealans limbs to the point of immobility. The lightning raged, drowning out his voice with the thunder that closely followed, but still, he pressed on.
“Where are you blasted woman?” He growled.
Concern seeped under his skin and into his heart which he covered by his rough expression. He didn't have much time to dwell on it before lightning hit a nearby tree, sending it crashing down and forcing Nealan farther into the forest. The wind pushed at his back, forcing him forward and farther into the wood. All the way he yelled Aracane's name. Soon another flash of lightning felled a tree near the human man, throwing him to the side, slamming him into a door. Nealan could feel the look of surprise paint itself across his face, quickly replaced by determination. Nealan swiftly and quietly entered the little alcove that was carved out of a tiny hill, so hidden away from the rest of the world. Upon entering, he held his breath. There, lying on the floor, cloak wrapped around her shoulders was the one he had been searching for. “Aracane?” He knelt beside her and brought her into a sitting position, practically ignoring the room itself altogether. She felt frozen to the touch and Nealan began to panic.
“Aracane, wake up,” she only moaned.
“Woman, if you die on me, so help me heaven I'll kill you again in the next life.”
She didn't respond to his threat. Nealan knew far too well about the consequences of cold this severe, if she didn't find some sort of warmth soon, she would most likely die. He himself wasn't far from the state that Aracane was in, and he could feel it creeping into his body.
“Hold on,” he tried reassuring her, though she was in no position to be able to care either way.
He stared at her water ridden clothing and how it clung to her body, draining her of her life source.
For the first time since walking into the room he noticed the hearth that was crackling contentedly in the corner. Though it provided warmth, Aracane was too far gone for just sitting next to a fire.
He knew what had to be done. Though his cheeks burned red, there was no time to think about the scandalous act he was about to perform. His and Aracane's life hung in the balance; his strength was leaving him, which tore down his resolve and reluctance even further. Expertly, he unhooked the many pieces of armor attached to him, throwing them aside as if they were nothing but a pile of useless junk rather than his protection in battle. His cotton shirt was what remained. Nealan's covering was just as wet, if not, more so than Aracane's and it clung to his toned skin, making the room seem even colder.
He closed his eyes and sighed, trying to calm his beating heart.
“You better appreciate what I am about to do for you.” His attempts at calming himself were thwarted as his heart continued to race and beat like a warriors drum. He reached for the edges of his shirt. In one swift motion it was off of his chest and over his head, his torso finally free of the cold confinement. His hands then shook and a chill went through his body as he worked on Aracane. He knelt and carried her to the fire, laying her practically at its