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I knew this. I knew all of this. But it didn’t change the routines.The dress was white, a pure, lily white and sleeveless too. It only gave me additional goose bumps. The fine hairs on my arms refused to lie down. His favourite underwear on me was no underwear so I was naked beneath the dress. My feet were bare, my dark hair tied up in a ponytail.I couldn’t look at the Christmas tree; was far too conscious of the glaring gap in the presents beneath. He must have known what he was doing. Goddamn son of a bitch. And I was just as bad. He knew me, I knew him. Curiosity killed the cat. I didn’t touch the big presents. It was just that one little one. It was like it was watching me forlornly, begging to be opened. And it wasn’t even wrapped prettily. Brown paper, white string. Not even a gift tag. He’d written on the paper in his cursive handwriting.To Eva. From Kent.I’d told myself he wouldn’t notice while knowing he would. And even then, I hadn’t tried to cover my tracks. The smart. We just have to keep our eyes open and keep pressing forward when the opportunity presents itself.” Despite the wisdom of his words, his relaxed position in such dire circumstances was beginning to grate on Silmaria’s nerves. “That’s all well and good,” she said crossly, “But what if no opportunity comes up before we really do run out of food and starve? A plan would be nice. Some sort of…” “Shh!” Rael hissed, cutting her off with a sharp motion of his hand. Silmaria obeyed without even thinking. Rael sat stock still, tightness and apprehension writ in every line of his posture. He stared into the gloom of the cave, holding up his torch, the only movement the play of shadows cast by his torch undulating across his strained face. For the whisper of a moment, a flitter of thought, she had no idea what caused him to go so tense. Then came the deep, primal, animal rumbling from the back of a cave, all gruff and sleepy and irate. The sound of two handfuls of gravel being scrubbed.
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