Haven Moonwater's Arc

Chapter 2 of 4

Haven stayed on the wet stones, her breath caught in her throat. The river whispered between them. Above the trees, a bright line of stars stretched across the sky, lighting the small clearing where he stood. It felt like the world had drawn a circle around this exact spot, just for them. Their eyes met. Her pale blue locked onto his grey, and the night went still. The water seemed to hush. Her lips parted to speak, to say the thing she had practiced a hundred times in her head. I know your face. I have drawn it. A soft snort cut the silence. A dark horse stepped from the shadow of the rocks beside him, its black coat shining under the starlight. Haven flinched back a step. She had not seen it arrive. She had not heard hooves on the path. The horse watched her with calm, knowing eyes, as if it had carried him here from somewhere far beyond her small world. The stranger narrowed his grey eyes. He tilted his head, studying her face the way one studies a word in a language almost forgotten. "Who are you?" he asked. His voice was low and even. No warmth. No recognition. Just a question. Haven's mouth closed. The words she had rehearsed died on her tongue. He did not know her. Whatever pulled her here, whatever pulled him, it had not given him her face the way it had given her his. She lifted her chin, swallowed the ache, and said only her name. The dream was hers alone to carry, for now.