" ITS ENOUGH TO MAKE YOU FEEL CRAZY "

LAUGHTER SPILLED FROM the depths of the young girl's chest, her small figure shaken with the high pitched sound of blissful joviality. The world around her was at peace, the laughter of her parents echoing in the distance. The grass around her shortened figure tickled the length of her short legs, her black hair swaying against her hips with each small stride. "Shh, Firefly you are going to get us caught!" A boy of the an older age than the girl seethed through his whitened teeth, his hand reaching outward to take hold of the young girl's hand.

The nickname echoed in the girl's ears, the sound pushing through the laughter of the girl to plaster against her skin. The nickname held the strength of the strongest man, a kindled fire only the laughing children had grown accustom too. It was the nickname the boy had given her the moment he stumbled into her presence, for the night they found one another was alive with the glowing bug.

Unwilling to give her name to the stranger of the dark, the young girl stubbornly kept her name hid behind her teeth. "Are we going to get in trouble?" The girl of black hair asked with a halted laughter, her grey eyes widening as she peered upon the boy who held her hand in an tightened grasp. It was ridiculous now, to think her laughing parents would care much for the playing children that raveled in the distant meadow.

"I don't believe so," The boy murmured, his warmed chocolate colored eyes devouring every aspect of her features. "Stop being a worrying wart, Firefly." He hummed with an genuine laughter, his finger reaching outward to lightly tap her small nose. The action rewarded the boy with a wrinkle of her nose, her slender lips forming a playful frown. It was a simple banter between the girl, and the stableboy.

It was a forbidden friendship, one only given in the unseen folds of privacy. For the parents of the girl held no status to ones name, only of their work ethic, and persona. They knew the girl found comfort in the lower class boy, for he made her laugh, even release a girly giggle. "A wart!" The girl screeched with wide eyes, a look of horror overtaking her doe-shaped eyes. Glancing downward the girl was quick to examine her hands, jerking her own hand away from his grip in a fluttering examination.

The boy stumbled to a halt, his eyes no longer on the girl who frantically searched her youthful skin. Skin unscarred by the hand of man, skin as soft as velvet, the skin of a young child. "Run, Firefly." The boy murmured beneath his breath, his head tilted to the side in an effort to pick up the distant sounds of the predatory animals that lurk in the cover of the trees.

The girl remained planted on the earth beneath her feet, unable to hear the boy through her rambling of warts. "Firefly," The boy raised his voice, his chocolate colored eyes constricting as he caught the slightest shimmer of steel. "Run, damnit!" The boy shouted this time, his voice cracking with the curse. Turning toward the girl, he pushed her forth toward the direction of her parents laughter.

The girl seemed unknowing, her eyes constricting as she focused on the boy who had his hand in a thousand pranks. The girl couldn't help but roll her eyes, ignoring the faint taste of fear that tingled on her tongue. He sounded so serious, the curse that left his lips sending a chill down her spine. With the look of terror that rested on his childish features, she found herself bending to his command.

"Run, Augustina!" The boy shouted behind her, leaving the running girl to turn her head toward the unmoving figure of the stableboy. Her heart squeezed in her chest, her tongue growing dry as the image behind her shattered her beating heart. An arrow laid pierced through the boy's shoulder, the glistening shine of its serrated edge sparkling against the suns luminous rays. The boy's mouth had parted, droplets of red blood falling from his lips to cascade down his chin.

The look of deepened confusion twisted his features, his hand raising to lightly touch the arrow that laid lodged in his shoulder. The boy's hunting eyes drifted upward to watch Augustina Aron flee, the look of encouragement flourishing in the depths of his brown eyes.

Brown eyes of the stableboy that saved her life...

"Augustina, babe." A voice of genuine concern broke through the memory of the grown woman, her whole body awakening to light shake of her sleeping figure. Augustina jerked upward from the feathered mattress of her bed, her forehead glistening with the beads of worked up sweat. With gasping breathes the woman parted her lips with a need for oxygen, her eyes examining her surroundings rather than the man who hovered over her with an worried expression.

"Augustina," Cato's voice broke through her haze, her eyes finally faltering to his chiseled features. "It's okay." The silver-haired man added, his hands holding firmly onto her biceps. His frosted eyes laid softly upon her, the distant look of hatred for her fear lingering behind a wall of shielded despair.

Augustina leaned forward, burying her head into his clothed shoulder. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." She whispered into his shoulder, ignoring the light murmur of forgiveness that left the bastards lips. The salty weakness of sorrow began to press against her eyes, the watery liquid cascading from her cheeks to glue against the cloth she pressed her face against.

Nights like this were the ones she found herself craving the man who held her, the man that dragged her away from the unforgiving depths of her mind. "Shh, Darling, I am here." He whispered into her hair, his hand raising to run up and down her bony spine. The image of the dying boy remained in her mind, his small figure falling into the emerald grass below his feet.

"Sleep," Cato whispered, his arms bringing the weakened woman back to the mattress she abruptly jolted upward from. "I will fight the bad dreams off, Oraíos." He used the nickname in the softest of manners, letting the woman he held nuzzle into the depths of his body. Her tears plastered against his shirt, clinging to the skin underneath. Her body felt fragile in his arms, for the first time she felt delicate in his hold.

She was broken...

___

A/N: Thank you for reading!

Who do you think the boy is? Do you believe he is truly dead?

I would personally love any feedback!