It is odd, how one day, someone is no more than a stranger to you, a dangerous stranger at that, and before you know it, their mare presence consumes you, in such a burning manner that you wonder how it was that you ever lived before knowing them.

Rex rested his head slightly leaning backward, his heavy breathing being the only thing that could be heard in the quarters where he came every day to tend to Maia. That day was no different.

It had been about half an hour since he came to change her wound sods, but drifted into sleep as he waited for her to awaken. Unknown to him, she had been eagerly waiting all night to see him, and was so positively surprised to find him sleeping next to her bed, that she couldn't bring herself to wake him up.

As his broad chest moved up and down, that pair of chestnut eyes he held secret desires for admired him so very closely. She gazed upon his features, gently tracing the map of his being with the tips of her fingers. A tall nose bridge, well-proportioned ripe lips of a pale shade of pink, the curve of his stubbly chin.

Rex's long pale eyelashes moved slightly as she found him frowning, his white brows drawing in together in an expression of displeasure. And before she could ponder more about what she found so oddly appealing, the man opened his eyes, heavy unrhythmic breaths leaving his mouth.

Startled, but more so flustered by the possibility of having to explain whatever she was doing, Maia curled up in her bed. She instinctively brought her hand to her neck, pondering on what words would best fit an explanation, a gesture which made his expression soften.

"I am sorry if I've frightened you..." he apologized, his voice hoarse and deep. "Are you alright?"

"Did you have a bad dream?" she whispered, and felt her throat burning slightly as the words slipped through her lips.

Rex brushed his fingers through his hair and sighed, but offered no answer.

"How are you feeling today?" he asked, heading towards the entrance where he placed the water bowl. "You were sound asleep when I came earlier, and I couldn't bring myself to wake you up."

His lips turned upward slightly as he recalled her bed hair, and the puffiness in her cheeks. He washed his hands and proceeded towards her.

"Is it alright with you if I aid your wound now?"

She pulled her garments a little lower, as to reveal the stitches on her throat, and leaned forward in his direction.

"This must hurt so much," Rex said, carefully wrapping the wound sods around Maia's freshly cleaned stitches.

It hurt to see her suffering, but more than that, it hurt to know she ended up causing herself pain. For all he knew, he was the one to blame for all her agony.

"Why..." he whispered, not being able to bring himself to ask the question that hunted his thoughts for the past month.

Rex wanted to know what made her do it. How much torment she must have been under for her to resort to such means. His heart felt heavy and his emotions, overwhelming as they were, weighted heavy on his conscience. He wished he could make it all go away, her pains, her burdens and her worries.

Baby breath bloomed shyly next to them, swamping around where Maia laid down, and fescue hurried to brush between.

"I can feel them, you know," she said, and pressed her palm against the soil. "I can hear the trees whispering, and I feel the ground embracing their roots beneath us." She swallowed uncomfortably, gazing outside the tent. "The deer that are now drinking from the lake, I can even feel their heart beats."

Maia paused, and they locked eyes as she turned her head around to face Rex again. For a brief moment, she thought, that if Rex wanted, and if he dared, he could catch a glimpse of her soul, her desires, her most hidden fears. But strangely enough, the impression didn't frighten her. In fact, she relished in the idea.

"I am not crazy, you know..." she clarified, lowering her gaze, "though I do feel like I am losing my mind."

"Tell me," he pleaded, kneeling down next to her side, and tenderly placed his hand over hers, "tell me what it feels like. What torments you so."

There was so much to tell. And she knew not where to begin.

"What made you," Rex paused, his voice trembling as he recalled what she did. "What made you do this?" he asked, brushing his fingers against her neck.

"It's hard to put into words," Maia begun, consciously covering her neck with a hand. "I felt the clouds in my chest, heavy with rain." She sighed. "It's like...Like every water drop that gathered in their care weighted down on my shoulders...too heavy," she told him, pulling her hand from his grasp, a gesture which made him frown.

Rex reminded himself he should refrain from any delusions he might harbor for the young woman before him. Even though all he wanted was to bring her closer to him.

"I had awakened at dawn with the dew drops falling on the leaves and against the ground...I felt them under my skin, you know, crawling like bugs, hungry to devour at my very core."

Maia paused, and crumbled a hand of soil in her grasp.

"What frightens me most, however, wasn't just remembering what had happened." She held her breath unconsciously. "What frightens me most is that I can hear their blood calling out to me from beneath the earth." She bit her lower lip in an attempt to keep certain thoughts at bay, then looked at him once more, tears gathering up in her eyes. "I can feel every soul around us, Rex," she murmured, her voice turning into a trembled whisper, "oh, Rex, the dead scream the loudest."

She prompted her back against the hut wall, and took Rex's palm back into hers, leaving both of them with that sharp sensation to bubble up in their chests.

"Look," she urged him, opening her other hand, a small fern flower sprouting as she opened it and placed it in his. "I don't even know when this started, but I can't control it."

Rex gazed down at the dainty bloom. He brushed his fingers over the small petals, and couldn't contain a small smile forming on his lips at the little plant that she somehow grew out of a palm of dirt. He looked back at Maia, and wiped away the fine tear lines that went down her well-defined cheek bones.

"I am afraid of myself, Rex. You saw what I did to those people...even to the children." She sighed, trying to muffle the sobs that gathered in her chest. "I am afraid of what I might do to the ones around me. For all I know, I could hurt you as well."

She pushed his hand away, rubbing the back of her hand against her cherry red cheeks.

"But you never meant to hurt me."

"And is there any guarantee I won't?"

"I..." he hesitated, his eyebrows lowering substantially.

"I killed people, Rex... Your people..." she said a little louder.

Weary eyes peeked inside the poorly lit quarters, as they both rested their backs against the wall, only their breathing filling the damp air. Maia never told him, but Rex knew how they made her feel, and he wanted to shoo everyone away, a part of him wished he had that authority.

"The first time I killed somebody," said Rex, making her give him a surprised look, "I was five. I turned, and killed one of the Hallowmorian children who was seeking shelter here with his family, during the second Krayevus invasion."

His gaze pinned to the ground and he exhaled heavily.

"I still recall it, vividly," he told her, and tightened his fingers against the small plant in his hand, crushing it in his palm. "His limbs, which I tore away from his lifeless body, were scattered around, the green of his blood staining my hands, his flesh still fresh in my mouth."

Maia could hear his heart beats, his pulse. It ringed in her ears, and marked its rhythms in her brain.

B a d u m p.

B a d u m p.

B a d u m p.

"In my state of shock, I tried putting his remains back together."

"What made you do it?" she asked, curiously looking unwavering in his direction.

"It's because," he begun, raising his gaze, but upon meeting hers he hesitantly lowered his eyes. "What I am trying to say is...Killing myself wouldn't have made things easier for the ones left behind." Sighing, Rex sunk his face in his palms.

"You know how many people I have killed, Rex," she told him. "You too know that inexplicable feeling that gathers up in your gut as you end a life. Isn't that frightening? No matter what I do, that won't change."

"We can't bring back the dead. I know that much." He paused, and peaked at her between his fingers, and a part of him felt intrigued how easily he was able to share that part of his past with her. "That night," he uttered, his voice hoarse and trembling, "when that happened, I..." Rex sighed lowering his palms, and gazed at them for a little while. "I cried, trying to put his remains back together."

Maia softly placed her hand on his shoulder, almost unconsciously, and Rex could have sworn that his skin burnt under her touch.

"No matter how much I cried or how many whips I received as punishment for what I had done, the boy had died."

He felt the urge to embrace her, to rest his head in the warmth of her bosom, as her scent poisoned his mind. He knew, for some reason, that her heartbeats alone would offer comfort. Yet, he decided to ignore his impulses.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, I live, so that I may carry the guilt and so that I can repay them for the rest of my life. Death is not a solution."

"And what will I do when I kill again?"

"I promise I'll be there," he vowed, their gazes firmly linking, "I'll be there, so there will be no next time."

A thought bubbled up in her head, and despite the sharp feeling in her throat, she chuckled extending her right hand towards him.

"Pinky promise?"

Rex's lips curled upward, gently pinching her extended pinky.

"What is a pinky promise?"

"Oh, it is the most sacred vow one can make!" she emphasized, trying to keep a straight face.

"Where you come from?" he asked, attempting to copy Maia's hand gesture.

She nodded, as he rubbed his chin in a pondering manner.

"What must I do?" he said, seriously considering the said ritual.

"You hold your right hand like so," she instructed, gently guiding his larger, rough hand, "and as I do the same," she added, positioning her right pinky close to his, "we ultimately link our hands under the sacred words, "'I pinky promise'," she concluded, barely keeping a grin at bay.

"I pinky promise," Rex repeated after her, looking candidly into her eyes, leaving her to wonder once again, how it was that she lived before knowing him.