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|• Never stop writing •|

Lyra felt her nose snuggling against something cosy and warm, she let herself sleep amidst the silence which engulfed her until she sensed fingers on her hips. She jostled awake, afraid of what she'd see, afraid of what might have happened to her, but she only found Lincoln; sound asleep. He looked so peaceful, like a toddler in a crib. Then it hit her.

Why the hell did he have his arms around me?

"Lincoln!" Lyra roared, "Wake up this instant."

He looked disoriented from being dragged out of his deep slumber, Lyra almost felt sorry but then again, it was Lincoln; they had a love—hate relationship. Although, their feelings mostly remained in the middle, not falling to either extremity.

"W-what happened?" His head moved around like a lid on a bottle, twisting right and left. Lyra couldn't stop the smile creeping up on her lips, but then she remembered his arms around her.

"Why the hell did you have your lanky, bony arms around me?" Lyra implored.

Lanky and bony, really Lyra? She mentally face-palmed herself.

"Lanky? Girl, calm down, I wasn't the one who was strangling you to death like I was a teddy bear or something!"

That made Lyra angry.

How dare he call my hugs 'strangling'? She thought.

"Excuse me, but I'm a baby and I can't sleep without hugging anyone and usually Emma is there, but now I'm stuck with you." Lyra huffed.

Lincoln rolled his eyes and scoffed, "Oh please, you're nearly seventeen. You're no baby and besides, there are plenty of rocks over here for you to hug, it doesn't have to be my precious body."

"Rocks?" Lyra raised her eyebrows, "You want me to hug a rock?"

"Yes." Lincoln nodded, "at least then I wouldn't have breathing problems all night."

"How dare you!" As hard as Lyra tried, she couldn't conceal the creeping smile that invaded her lips. "You're dead." She lurched forward just as Lincoln spoke.

"You wore it?" His eyes scanned Lyra's neck, where the chain her father had given her hung. The green crystal Lincoln had gifted to her had a hole in it, through which she had threaded the chain to wear it.

"Yes." Lyra whispered sheepishly. She could feel the heat rising to her ears.

Lincoln grinned at her with delight.

"What?" Lyra asked, flustered.

His smile widened, "You're blushing."

Embarrassed, Lyra awkwardly mumbled, "Whatever, we need to get a move on. I'll prepare breakfast."

Well done, Lyra. Absolutely well done.

—

Lyra served the two of them with dry oats which she had brought from Emma's hidden stash of food that only she and Lyra knew of. Lincoln gobbled down the food as Lyra washed it down with some water.

"Where did you find this?" He asked, his attention largely on licking his bowl clean.

Lyra answered casually, "Don't worry, eat up. You may never find another bowl of oats again."

"Hmm." Still his concentration was focused on the food.

"I'm going to go and pack up, we need to leave in half an hour so we have enough time for another break by midday." In return, Lincoln grunted, acknowledging that he had heard Lyra's words.

Once Lyra packed everything, she sat on a rock to admire the rusty, golden badge, engraved with the letters T.P.R.P. which she had found. She wondered what the abbreviation meant as she examined the smooth edges, hoping to discern any recognisable markings. As soon as her fingers glided over an inscription, she scrubbed the area with her sleeve to clear the dirt from it.

Scrutinising it, she discovered a combination of numbers — 52454249525448. She didn't understand it, yet it felt familiar, like she had seen it somewhere, like she knew what it meant. Lyra was concentrating so hard that she didn't notice Lincoln approaching her; he pulled a bundle of her locks, causing a burst of searing pain to attack her scalp.

"You son of a daredevil!" Lyra screamed at the top of her lungs and stuffed the badge in her pocket. She grabbed her rucksack and sprinted after him furiously. "I'll kill you and serve you to the wolves!"

Lyra trailed his footsteps whilst dodging trees. Lincoln was clever to choose this path as it was jam packed with obstacles. She selected the route behind the bushes and found herself catching up to him.

She was so close, her fingers inches away from his shoulder. Finally, her fingers touched him — more like shoved him as Lyra's feet tripped and she lurched forwards. She felt her forehead make contact with Lincoln's shoulders as he tumbled down with her.

The air from Lyra's lungs was snatched away as she felt herself being lifted up in the air. She kept her eyes shut, all she felt was something soft beneath her. When she opened her eyes, she was shocked to find Lincoln beneath her, their limbs intertwined. But to Lyra's horror, beneath Lincoln, the ground was a good few feet away. She could see the forest floor through the nets; they were trapped.

"What the f-" Lyra clasped her hand over his mouth, she picked up a noise in the surrounding. It was footsteps, she could hear footsteps. She lowered her mouth to Lincoln's ear and whispered.

"I can hear footsteps." His eyes widened in response. Lyra tried to pull herself off Lincoln but she failed miserably. Instead, their noses collided and their lips were mere inches away. The space between them was dangerously close, too close for Lyra's liking.

In the distance, they heard clapping. Both their heads swivelled around in a manner which was threatening for their necks.

"Well well, isn't it the sweetest couple in the world." A foreign voice chuckled.

Lyra could sense herself blushing at the stranger's remark but there was no way she could get off Lincoln, instead she managed to choke, "Umm we're not a couple," Lincoln immediately frowned upon hearing Lyra's words.

"Could you help us get down please?" Lyra asked, observing the strange man.

"Of course my lady, as you wish." Lyra didn't appreciate his tone, not one bit. As the man advanced towards Lyra and Lincoln's mangled bodies within the hanging net, Lyra was unable to perceive his actions. A slashing sound engulfed her ears after which gravity pulled them to the ground.

"Ouch!" Screamed Lincoln. Lyra was surprised by Lincoln's cry of pain since she hadn't felt any but she understood why she wasn't hurt when Lincoln continued, "Get off me Lyra."

Oops. Lyra thought.

"Now, let's be civilised and follow me." The man who freed them said.

"Why should we?" Retorted Lincoln.

He smirked, "Because if you don't, it would take me approximately six seconds to kill both of you." Lincoln raised his eyes challengingly. "You don't believe me?" The man stuffed his hand into his pocket and drew out something Lyra hadn't seen in a long time; a gun.

"Now are you ready to follow me?" Neither Lyra nor Lincoln uttered a word, their eyes fixated on his gun.

"What's your name?" Lyra blurted out unconsciously, the stranger seemed awfully familiar to her. She feigned a smile to make her question look genuine and hoped it would work.

He smiled back, "Croy. My name is Croy." Then he started walking, both Lyra and Lincoln followed suit, like his shadow.

—

Thoughts?

Finally, I have reached to chapter twenty, let me know what you think of the story so far!