Eventually, we did get on to the actual basics of safely throwing a blade without injuring one's self or someone else accidentally. Personally, throwing it from the handle was a lot more difficult than throwing it from the tip of the blade. For some reason however, the blade just kept slipping when Rhyse held it, so in the meantime, we gave up on that method.

The afternoon arrived, and it was time to get on with my climbing practice. Time for Rhyse to laugh hysterically at my pitifully pathetic attempts to scale a tree... or even cling on to it for more than ten seconds. My hands were sore as hell when I was done, and my arse felt like it had been kicked a thousand times.

On cue, my belly grumbled hideously. My ears blazed fiercely and I was definite Rhyse heard it as he was up in the tree in stitches once again. It wasn't even funny. Why was me being hungry funny? I wanted food. I needed food.

"A bit hungry love?" He teased annoyingly from up above.

"If I could climb that tree, I'd kick your arse. Come down here!" I demanded threateningly.

"Sorry, Rhyse Amstell isn't available at the moment, please- hey!" The rock I threw hit him square in the chest. "Oh look, you're smiling. How adorable, dear Miss Hester."

I wasn't smiling, I was grimacing. I was hot. My fingers dug sorely into my palm as my hand clenched into a fist. I exhaled heavily, composed myself and courageously attempted to climb the tree. I naturally followed the stages Rhyse had earlier instructed and found myself already halfway up the tree before I realised what I was doing. Just another half to go...

I reached over to the branch Rhyse was sitting on, his legs dangling over either side childishly. He flashed a devious grin at me and scooted back farther down the branch where it began to thin down.

I sat the same way Rhyse did and slowly edged my way over to him, being cautious not to fall and break myself. Just as I was about to reach out for Rhyse and punch him, a discomforting crunch from the branch I was sitting on rang out, followed by a nerve-wracking lowering of the branch.

Oh, snap. It was going to snap!

"The branch is going breaking." Nice one, Sherlock. "Stay there, don't move. I'm going to jump down and then you drop and I'll catch you. Okay?" He outstretched his hand, warning me to stay still as he spoke slowly and quietly as if that would coerce the branch to take a little longer to do its business.

"Oh, oh. I was just going to grab a coffee and come back- of course, I'm not going to move, you divine idiot!" I retorted promptly. He really must've taken me for some unique kind of imbecile, because that's how he constantly treated me. Now I was probably going to break my neck because of him.

Rhyse lowered himself off the branch so he was holding on with two hands, he then looked below him briefly, calculating the distance between him and the exposed ground, before letting go and landing swiftly on his feet. Perfectly fine.

Now it was my turn. The thought of being caught didn't reassure me at all, especially since it was by Rhyse; I still didn't completely trust him. It was a long way down.

I had nothing to lose by that point as another snapping sound echoed throughout the desolate forest surrounding us. Either I could break both of my legs, or I could land on Rhyse and potentially break something of his. I knew which option I preferred.

"Swing your legs over slowly, and then slide off. I'm stronger than I look. I won't drop you... hopefully."

I rolled my eyes and reluctantly did as he said. Definitely not reassuring for my anxious heart that felt as if it was in overdrive. My nervous stomach churned aggressively for the two or three seconds I fell and landed with a thud. Not in his useless arms, not on the filthy floor, but on top of him!

The wind got knocked out of me and probably out of Rhyse since neither he nor I moved an inch, just made painful groans sounding like a struggling pair of seals.

"What kind of catching do you call this, eh, Breeze?" I forced out, still unable to move. It was amusing to replace his absurd name with anything that sounded remotely similar.

"I stopped you from breaking your weak twig legs, don't complain." A deep chuckle emerged from Rhyse after a few seconds. "You're still laying right on top of me. Aren't you getting a little too comfortable?"

I gasped and rolled to the side and from on top of Rhyse who sat up had hovered over me, his gentle brown eyes looking pensively into my own. I stared back up at him, what did he want now? Couldn't I be in agony in peace without him disturbing me?

"You can't just stare at people all the time. It's weird you know?" I merely murmured, opting to look and branch I just fell off instead. On cue, my nose itched, and I had to relieve it.

"Why? The people on television always do it."

"This isn't TV..." I muttered.

After a few agonizing moments of recovering my breath, I stood up and dusted myself down from the decayed leaves and dry mud coating me like I was the ground itself.

I went home to get food, and Rhyse did the same. He suggested we ate outside, so we could get back to work straight after but I told him no, simply because the ground was filthy, and I was in sore need of washing my hands which were equally as filthy.