I opened my eyes a fraction of an inch as my mind surfaced from unconsciousness.

I glanced around in bewilderment, unsure where I was. There were three rock walls on three sides of me, with a small opening straight ahead. It took a few minutes for me to realize that I was in some sort of stone cavern.

Beside me, a fire burned brightly. I could make out the silhouette of a man sitting next to the fire, his back to me as he peered through the cave's entrance. I vaguely recognized him as the man who came to my aid earlier that day.

Though he has helped me, I felt apprehensive of him. I didn't know this man, if he was a friend or foe. He saved me from the hunter, yes, but for what reason? He could be just as appalling as the man who assaulted me. I was acutely aware that he was sitting in front of my only exit.

My qualms were momentarily forgotten, as an aching throb raked through my body. My head pounded, and every inch of my body was in unspeakable agony.

I was debilitated for a few moments as the throbbing pulsated through my body. I took a deep breath to calm myself, but immediately regretted that decision, as a sharp twinge shot up my side. It took all my effort not to scream out, as the burning white pain ran through me from what I assumed were bruised ribs.

My injuries remind me of the previous day's events. The memories I had been suppressing came flooding back into my mind, and I gave an involuntary shutter. For a moment, I felt as though I might vomit.

Worst of all, I felt ashamed. How could I allow myself to get in a situation like that? Had I provoked the man in some way? What would have happened to me if my savior hadn't shown up when he did?

I assessed my injuries and moved my body to test its movement. That's when I noticed that I was no longer wearing my favorite yellow blouse, but a black, oversized t-shirt. I was thankful for the change of clothing- I wasn't sure I could handle looking at that blouse right now, with its buttons ripped off and the blood stains.

I lifted my hand to my face, and felt a dried scab over my lip where the man had struck me. My nose was tender; I was quite certain that it was broken. Judging by the way my left eye was nearly swollen shut, I suspected it had a nasty bruise.

A bandage covered the front of my forehead, concealing an area where I was still bleeding. I moved my hand to the back of my head, and felt a lump the size of plum, which I assumed was the source of the throbbing headache I had.

Each time I moved my hand to a different wound, I couldn't help but to think of the cause of the injury. I flashed back to the gun hitting me in the face; the crunching noise from when my nose was smashed; the blow of the hunter's hand; the unbearable pain when I landed on the rock and almost lost consciousness.

The overwhelming recollections caused a quiet whimper to escape my lips. At the sound, the man sitting at the mouth of the cave turned to look at mr.

The stranger was breathtakingly handsome. I could see the curvature of large muscles along his chest and arms, contouring his olive toned skin beneath a plain white t-shirt. He looked as though he could easily hurt me if he chose to; I found myself shrinking a little at the thought.

From what I could tell in the darkness, the man was fairly young, despite his brawny build. I was certain that he was around my age, a few years older at most.

His dark brown hair was close cropped to his head. His handsome brown face had a naturally soft appearance, but was hidden beneath hard, rough features. Everything about the man screamed "unapproachable", from his stiff but powerful demeanor, to his stoic facial expressions.

The only exception was the man's eyes. He had beautiful, piercing green eyes that seemed to lure me in.

He looked very familiar to me, although I couldn't place where I knew him from.

"What the hell were you thinking!" The man abruptly yelled. "You could have been killed!"

Taken aback by his abruptness, I just looked at him for a moment.

"Who are you?" I finally choked out, my voice cracking.

"Micah," he replied, his response diminutive.

I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn't. Instead, we sat in an awkward quietness.

Without a word, Micah walked over to a pile of tree branches near the cave wall, and began stocking the fire with wood. The flames grew higher, their glow reflecting in the brilliant green of his eyes. I soon found that they were the only thing I could focus on. They were so familiar to me, and it irritated me that I couldn't remember how I knew him.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"The same area where I found you. It's not like we could get very far with you unconscious," he said bitterly.

What a delightful man, I thought sarcastically to myself, rolling my eyes at his antagonistic attitude.

We sat in silence, the only sound that of the crackling logs in the fire. In the quiet, the pain of my injuries seemed amplified. With nothing to distract me, I could feel every cut, scrape and bruise pulsating through my body.

Remembering the emergency first-aid kit Abigail had supplied, I looked around frantically for my backpack. I spotted it a few feet away, and stretched painfully to grab it.

I opened the plastic case and found basic medical items like bandages, antiseptic cream, hand sanitizer, and the one thing I had been praying for- aspirin.

I didn't hesitate to twist the top from the bottle and popped two pills into my mouth, washing it down with a swig of water from my canteen.

I looked up to see Micah staring at me, a scrutinizing look on his face.

"Are you in pain?" he asked, a hint of condescension in his voice.

"A little," I mumbled, leaning my head against the cave wall.

I surveyed my surroundings, trying to avoid Micah's unwavering eyes. The cave wasn't very long, maybe ten feet deep. The opening was big enough for one person to slid in or out, but small enough that it could be easily overlooked from the outside. It would have been the perfect hideaway, if I wasn't sharing it with a stranger.

I mustered all of my willpower and got to my feet, pain shooting through every part of me. My stiff and injured body protested the movement, and it took all of my resolution not to let out a groan.

Micah looked as though he wanted to help, but thought better of it. Instead, he turned away from me and averted his eyes to the ground, as though giving me privacy to compose myself.

I tested my legs carefully, stretching one and then the other, making sure they weren't damaged. Once I determined that they were uninjured, I walked to the opening of the cave, and peered outside.

The rain had picked up and was now a thrashing downpour, blocking my view as cascades of rainwater poured down the side of the cave entrance, and thunder rumbled violently from above. It was hard to tell, but it looked like we were approximately fifty feet from the ground.

"How did we get up here?" I asked, alarmed at the height of the cave.

"We climbed up the hillside. Well, I climbed. You were comatose," Micah smirked.

"You carried me? All the way up here?" My mouth gaped open with shock.

"Yes," he said nonchalantly, as though he carried one hundred and twenty pound women up hillsides on a daily basis.

I found herself both impressed and embarrassed by this.

"There's weren't a lot of places for shelter around here, but this cave was fairly close by," Micah continued. "It would have preferable to have traveled further by the end of today, but you were injured, and the weather wasn't very agreeable. I wanted to move us away from that scumbag, at least," he said, venom in his voice.

My breath caught in my throat as Micah's words brought unwanted memories flooding back. I distinctly remembered the man's hands on my waist, his lips on my skin. I remembered the words he whispered in my ear, and his awful smell invading my lungs.

The memory was so realistic, it felt as if I was suffocating on his fumes all over again. My breathing quickened, almost to the point of hyperventilation, and my eyes watered from the fiery pain of my ribcage. The trembling in my knees made her legs unsteady, and I squatted to the ground, trying to ignore the aching in my limbs. A clammy sweat formed on my forehead.

"What exactly happened to the, um, scumbag?" I asked in a small, shaky voice that didn't seem to belong to me.

In the glow of the firelight, I could see Micah's eyes harden into odious slits. His jaw stiffened in anger, and he balled his hands into fists, as the shadow of a smirk played on his lips. For the longest time he remained quiet.

"You don't have to worry about that guy," he finally said. "I doubt that he'll be causing problems for anyone ever again."

I took a step back, as though electrocuted by his harsh words. What did Micah do? Surely he didn't kill him...

A small part of me applauded the idea, feeling a sense of satisfaction as I thought of the man's demise. I was glad that this sorry excuse of a person received what was coming to him. Anger and resentment filled me at the thought of the man, and what he almost did to me.

I had always considered myself to be a pacifist. I was a person who believed that the universe had a plan, and would provide whatever punishments were meant to be dealt to the guilty. I felt that people shouldn't interfere, because karma had its own methods of creating a balance. But that all changes the moment my blouse was ripped open.

Still, the fact that I was glad this man was possibly killed was a new feeling for me, and not one that I necessarily enjoyed. The amount of hate I felt toward him scared me.

After everything I had been through the last couple of days, it was hard to believe that I almost lost my life to an ordinary human. I had been so consumed by the fact that I was being hunted by the Malin, that it never even crossed my mind to worry about mortals, or the fact that they could hurt me too.

I guess supernatural beings aren't the only evils in this world, I thought to myself.

Then there was this Micah person.

I was grateful for what he'd done, but he also terrified me. He was as much of a stranger to me as the hunter was, and probably as much of a danger. Shouldn't I be afraid of a man who shows up out of nowhere, and hurt another person without any remorse? Shouldn't I be worried that he was now sitting in a small cave with me, analyzing my every move?

No, I thought.

There was something about him that I trusted. As cold and detached as he seemed, I had a feeling that he was a good man. I was not afraid of him, but caution still told me that I should separate myself from him, just to be certain.

"Well, thank you, Micah, for your, umm... assistance, but I really need to move along," I said, bending down to pick up my backpack.

"Where do you think you're going?" Micah asked, getting to his feet. "You're injured and you to need to rest. We can leave in the morning."

"We?" I asked, perplexed. "I appreciate everything that you've done for me, but that's not necessary. I'm okay now. And I've got to get going as soon as possible."

"Don't you think I know that? I am your protector, after all. Where you go, I go," he said begrudgingly, an unmistaken resentment in his voice.

"I'm sorry... you're my, what?" I asked. Perhaps it was my concussion, but I was lost.

A silence fell over the cave, and he looked at me incredibly.

"You don't know what a protector is?" he asked in disbelief. "Abigail and Christopher never told you?"

"Told me what? How do you know my parents?" I narrowed my eyes, apprehensive.

"Well this just made my job a hell of a lot harder. I knew that this would be difficult, but damn," Micah murmured, taking a deep breath. He began rubbing his forehead as though he had a headache. "Sit down, Alexis. We need to talk."

I hesitated, unsure whether I should stay or go. On the one hand, I didn't know if I could trust the man. But on the other, I was intrigued by what he might have to say. If he could give me more information about the missing parts of my life, maybe it would be worth taking the chance and sticking around.

I glanced out the cave entrance where momentous amounts of water was still pouring from the sky, the rain continuing its unrelenting assault. It was sure to be flooding, and with the it now being dark, it was unlikely I could see well. There was a good chance that I would only be putting myself in more danger if I were to leave.

Seeing the conflict in her face, Micah gave a sigh of frustration.

"You do realize that I saved your life today, right? Of all of the people you should be cautious of, I'm probably at the bottom of that list," he said.

"Besides, if I wanted you dead, don't you think you would be by now? I didn't have to help you against the man down there, and you've been unconscious for at least twelve hours. I've had ample opportunity to hurt you if that were my goal."

I couldn't negate that what he said was true. Although I was still skeptical of him, judging by the hard glint in Micah's eyes, my presence wasn't up for debate.

I sat painfully on the chilly ground and glanced up to see his intense eyes scrutinizing me. I gave a timid smile, but felt foolish when he didn't return the gesture. He just continued to stare at me with his cynical eyes, making me self-conscious. I cleared my throat.

"What do we need to talk about?" I asked awkwardly.

"Where to start....," he whispered to himself, lost in thought. "Well, first of all, you are a witch, Alexis. And a damn powerful one if I were to guess."

"Yeah, yeah. That's what everyone keeps saying," I rolled my eyes. "My mother left me a note saying the same thing before she... Is this some sort of joke? Because if it is, it isn't very funny," I said, glancing around as though I may find hidden cameras recording me.

"Cut the shit, Alexis. This is no joke. Your birth parents were very powerful witches who turned dark. A lot of people are still petrified of you just because you shared a bloodline with them, if that helps put the terror your parents caused into perspective," he said.

"You were taken away from them and hidden here with Abigail and Christopher until you received your powers again, which I am assuming you have or I wouldn't have been able to track you."

"Track me?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"It's one of the few abilities a protector is given. It's like an internal radar that works specifically for one person. It's used so a protector can always find the witch to whom they are linked, to help protect them and keep them from danger."

Micah saw the confusion on my face.

"Each witch is assigned a protector. A protector," Micah began, closing his eyes in exasperation, "is an individual with magical abilities who is mentally and physically trained to defend witches. They can only use their magic to assist, educate, and protect their witch, hence the name 'protector'.

"A protector's main purpose in life is to keep their witch safe. I'm a protector, and I made a vow upon initiation that I'll defend whomever I'm assigned to, for as long as I am able. It's a supernatural contract of sorts. If I break that vow, I will be punished in the most extreme way- death. The same rule goes for all protectors. It's a way of reminding us of our duty. And it just so happens that the protector assigned to you... is me," he finished with a touch of bitterness.

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© Dawn Norwell