“Snow.”
Blade of grass sticking out of his mouth, the dark eyed sylph turned to stare balefully at the girl who’d murmured his name. She lay on her back beneath the shadowy branch of a gnarly tree squinting idly at the newly appearing stars. Her toes curled into the dewy grass. She smiled sweetly at him, twirling a finger in her wild mass of black curls. Seemingly frail and bird- boned, she looked like a life-sized porcelain doll. She was pale and perfect in her white and grass stained summer dress. Lily thought that she was a fairy. She’d adopted that notion as a child and stubbornly clung on to it ever since. From the moment he first saw her, Snow thought her ethereal and ghostly … butterfly-like in her charm and delicacy. While Lily lived for moments frozen in time, Snow lived for moments spent by her side. Breathing in Lily… whispering in her ear.
Still lazily chewing, he closed his eyes again.
“Snow.”
Her voice was quietly insistent and vaguely petulant. “Snow, I’m hungry.”
He glanced toward the farmhouse across the field behind them. A family of four had lived there. At this moment, they were all – mother, father and twin girls – slumped ignominiously over their ham and egg breakfast gone cold. Not alive anymore. A cruel reward for their kindness to two beautiful strangers who’d appeared at their doorstep seeking refuge from the rain just before dawn.
“How can you be hungry already?” Vague disbelief coated his words.
“I’m always hungry. Haven’t I told you that before? Nothing ever fills me up.”
There was wistfulness in her tone – the evidence of things she tried to hide from him.
Not even me?
Snow sat up abruptly. His almond-like eyes narrowed. He wouldn’t ask her that. He couldn’t ask her that. She would lie or be truthful. Either way it would wound. A vague pain intensified in the heart region of his chest. He ignored it. There was no heart there. There hadn’t been for the longest while. Still that nagging ache remained to torment him.
Lily cast her gaze askance to where Snow was. He was so much more beautiful then she was. Willowy and lithe, he had dark, thick lashes and red lips, like a girl’s. Still he was strong - stronger than anyone else she had ever known. She had seen him laugh and kill and cry all at once. Yet, at rare moments like this, he seemed so vulnerable and child-like in his sullen silence. She suspected he knew the reason she had asked him to take her back to this place.
She wished she could ask him what was troubling him. Instead, she jumped to her feet and bent to tug on his hand. “Come, take me into town.”
© Tonya R Moore
