And then her voice—
 It hadn't left him since.
"You want me to name you?" She'd said it like it was a curse. 
As if she knew the weight names carried. Did she already know the weight his name carried?
He sat now by a crooked stream, the water glinted like spilt silver under the distorted sun.
The forest was cruel, yes. But it had a beauty to it.
Unnatural. Dangerous. And somehow, still... captivating.
Like her. 
He hadn't gone far from where they spoke.
Just far enough that her scent wouldn't cling to his thoughts. Just far enough to breathe again. To breathe again without her prominent presence.
He picked up a smooth stone, turned it in his hand. Cold. Forgettable. Very common.
 Unlike her.
She unsettled him.
 Not because she was a threat, though she was. Clearly.
 But because she made him speak. Too easily.
 She made him smile. Too brightly.
 He hadn't done that in weeks. Maybe even months.
And the worst part?
She made him talk. Too carelessly. He'd meant every damn word.
"You're the only real thing I've seen since I stepped into these cursed trees."
Fool!
He hurled the stone into the stream.
He knew. There had been no flower, not really. That had to be just the lie. This whole mission was ridiculous. The palatable version of the truth. He believed that from the very beginning.
But her reaction made him question his belief. Was there a truth to this 온라인카지노게임? The immortal flower. 
Whatever it might be. One thing was still sure. 
He had to be there.
 Whether he wanted to or not.
The trees whispered it at night. Wind echoed it in silence.
 He owed something.
 And the forest wouldn't let him leave until it was done.
She hadn't named him. She didn't need to. Still, her refusal felt like a tether.
 A string tied tight.
"Maeve."
 He whispered it now, as if testing the shape of her name on his tongue.
He hadn't asked. He'd heard it, faintly, from one of her soldiers before they'd run.
 She hadn't called out for them once. That had unsettled him, too.
 A woman who didn't flinch.
 Who walked into a cursed forest alone?
 Who didn't ask for help?
She reminded him of—
No. Not now.
Naming you will tie me to you. Wise words!
Just like thinking about her will tie him to her. He did not plan on being tied down either.
He picked another stone. This time, slightly bigger, even rougher. His fingers brushed around it to clear his head. He needed to focus.
Focus on why he was there.
And then another voice tried to rise again.
Finish what you owe me.
He stood, glancing back toward where he'd left her.
He could still smell her - ash, hint of sweat, and something softer. Something he felt she'd never admit to wearing.
Some people meet to part again. 
But not them. He felt he wasn't done with her.
And he knew she was not done with him either.
~*~*~
Please vote, comment, and share.
Thank you all!!!