The Core

Morning came too early. Taylon’s muscles were stiff from the dense cot; he wasn’t well rested and his head was pounding from the whirling events of the night before. When he opened his eyes, the room was dark except for the small amount of light that slipped in under the curtains. His mother, Helena, and Lark were not present in the room. Tyrion was breathing softly from his cot still fast asleep.

“I’m glad you’re awake,” Andor said quietly. He was sitting up in his cot, the worn sheets still draped over his ankles. “I wanted to talk to you.”

Taylon rubbed his eyes with balled hands, and then opened his fingers to run them through his sleep-ridden hair. “If it’s about how I shouldn’t trust her so easily, I don’t want to hear it.” There was a finality in his tone to close the subject before it was opened.

Andor sighed, “Tay, just hear me out. She’s got you wrapped around her finger!” His voice wasn’t above a whisper for fear of waking Tyrion.

The other boy shook his head. He wished silently that Andor would just realize that Taylon had no care about what Andor’s opinion was. “You don’t even know her,” he exhaled.

“I don’t know her?” he laughed humorlessly. “I don’t need to know her to know what goes on between you two. I know you so well that your face says it all. Don’t you see what she’s doing? She’s setting my mother on edge, and placing a wedge between our friendship. She is a menace.”

It was Taylon’s turn to laugh. “If you would just have a conversation with her, a civil conversation where you’re not condescending, you would see who she is truly. She’s kind and gentle; she cares about us, Andor. She wants Palimea to get out of The Core’s grasp.”

Andor made no attempt to respond. He pushed up from his bed, flinging his legs lazily over the sides so that they landed with a thump on the floor of the old house. His brother had woken from the noise and he hadn’t shown any remorse. “I’m going to get breakfast. When you actually come to your senses, talk to me.”

Tyrion looked at Taylon. “Do I want to know?”

To Taylon, Tyrion had never seemed so old. His voice was layered with sleep and as he looked at the older boy, Taylon understood where it came from. Without a father, both Andor and Tyrion had grown into the shoes. The younger boy had realized that fights between his brother and Taylon happened too frequently that it was pointless to express interest unless it included himself.

Taylon was hardly awake for breakfast. Conversations blurred around the table but he noticed that not once did Lark speak. Helena watched her scrutinizingly. At one point, Taylon caught his mother giving him a worried glance. He hadn’t touched his food. His mind was spinning. He wanted to get Lark alone again and just kiss her.

He thought back to the previous night. The slap had stung, but it didn’t take away from the feel of her gentle lips on his. He could feel the ache in his fingers to brush against her smooth skin, trace the crimson markings that spiraled along her arms and neck. He wanted to tell her how beautiful she was. It was overwhelming and abruptly, he stood from the table. Without a word, he exited the kitchen in the direction of the communal bedroom.

He needed to clear his head and knew the best way to do it. He was going hunting. Donning his gear, he rapidly pulled on the necessary. Within minutes, he was ready to leave. He wasn’t waiting for Lark to be ready. He needed one day of clear hunting without her. Having her present while he was distracting himself from her would not work in his favor.

The voices carried from the kitchen. Taylon paid no attention to the conversation until a voice spoke up from behind him. He had just laid his hand on the knob. He had almost been free.

“You’re not going to take me with you today?” she asked. Her eyes were searching and her eyebrow was arched.

He spun around, staring at the ground. “If you want to come, you can.”

Lark quickly stooped down and grabbed her boots pulling them over her socks and the bottom of her pant legs. “Well, let’s go then.” She made a shooing motion with her hands.

Taylon walked ahead of her, instead of next to her. He could hear the girl clambering through the snow as they reached the thickening of the woods. He didn’t wait for her. The boy wanted to clear his head, not have her consistently putting her presence out there. She called for him to wait up, but he ignored it.

She caught up to him in the thickening and did nothing to keep her voice down. “You have some nerve, Taylon. Kissing me like that last night and then blowing me off this morning, what was that?” she questioned.

“Would you be quiet? I want dinner tonight” was his only response.

“Tell me what your problem is and I will. Or are you just going to try and kiss me again later?”

Taylon gently grabbed Lark and pushed her against the nearest tree. He lowered his face towards her, "Are so high mighty that you'll deny you enjoyed last night?" he smirked, tilting Lark's head up. The Taylon she knew was back, his calm joking demeanor replacing his ass-like one.

"Are you so high and mighty to think you can get away with anything you like?" she asked, cocking a brow. He chuckled and his body shook against hers. Her smirk slid into a smile.His hot breath brushing her cheeks.

"Don't you?" he asked.

“Taylon, get off me,” she huffed, pushing her palms into his chest. The snow sifted from the branches at the vibrations caused by the pair. It fell on them, coating their hair with snowflakes.

The boy wasn’t fazed. “Kiss me and I will.” His eyes were squinted as if daring her to. The playfulness was still very visible. The smirk on his pink lips taunted her as she searched his face for seriousness below the joking.

She shook her head quickly, a small smile stretching across her lips as she figured out her escape. “Taylon, I would but we need dinner,” she said as she ducked from under his arm.

Truthfully, the family had enough meat for the day to be unsuccessful, which it was rapidly proving to be. Instead of letting her go easily, he reached out and wrapped an arm around her waist, lifting her off the ground and dragging her back toward his chest.

Her gentle laugh died away when a realization set in. There was no rustle in the branches from their awfully loud voices. “Taylon, stop. Listen.”

“I don’t hear anything; what is it?” he asked, furrowing his brows casting a shadow over his emerald eyes. His arms didn’t move from Lark’s waist, although his grip did loosen in the slightest.

Lark huffed, “That’s the point! There are no birds scurrying away, no foxes, nothing. You can’t hear them moving and we were certainly being loud enough to make them move away.”

“I’m not sure what you’re point is?” Taylon said, his brow still pushed together. “Animal typically run away while the noise is happening. This happens sometimes.”

“There’s no animals, Taylon!” Lark shouted. “Anywhere. No birds flying! Even your stubborn self can’t deny that!” She spun around in his arms and stared at him. “I’m not sure what going on Taylon, but I’m almost positive it’s at the hand of The Core,” she whispered.