Stranger

Hands slid and mouths followed and what were they doing?

He was dancing, drums and bells resetting his heartbeat and the girl he was holding doing just as much damage, if not more. God, she was gorgeous. He’d seen a lot of people, a lot of women, but she was something else. They met the fast rhythm of the music, strong and steady, despite not knowing the dance.

There were people around them, other dancers making a circle, children around the bonfire. The fire itself was high, wild, and the people around it seemed as dangerous. This was the Cat Festival, a tradition passed on in order to scare away the vicious mountain lions surrounding the village. It was more than that, though; it was the village’s spirit, the village’s everlasting youth.


Out of everywhere Dustan had been, this little village was the most amazing. He’d seen smaller villages, humongous cities, entire countries, but this place, nestled on the top of a mountain and totally secluded, beat them all. Its origins were old but its people youthful, its traditions possibly older but their spirit strong.

There was a special magic here, infused in the ground, in the air, in the blood. He could feel it calling, feel it pulling him, just as it pulled those around him.

He didn’t know this girl’s name, but it didn’t matter. There was something about her that screamed, Pay attention and Don’t let go, and he had every intention of listening. They drew backwards from each other, then rushed forward, and he gasped as she slid right up to him.

“Hi,” she whispered.

“Hi.”

Her mouth brushed his chin before she backed up. Push- pull- they repeated- don’t let go. There was a lot of stepping, a lot of stepping on toes, but she was laughing and it was intoxicating.

He found himself pressed up against her, arms around her waist, trying to breathe when really, it was hopeless. She didn’t seem to notice, or care, despite the fact that Dustan was a fumbling idiot who kept throwing them out of step with each other. He knotted his fingers in themselves at the small of her back because he didn’t know what else to do with them.

She leaned up suddenly, face sliding along his jaw. He jerked, but her grip around his neck tightened.

“What’s your name?”

He choked up the second he realized she wanted him to speak. His name. That wasn’t hard. But the syllables. “Dustan,” slid out without control, perfectly smooth.

She grinned. “Nice.”

He smiled back, leaned down to her ear. “What’s yours?”

She grimaced. “I don’t normally- give it out…”

Was she serious? Truly serious? He stared for a second. “But you asked first,” he said finally, because it was all he could think of.

“True enough. It’s Cass.” She spun out of his arms then, startling him. Was she walking away- oh, no, just spinning. He brought her back and held her closer.

She wouldn’t look at him,staring over his shoulder or at their feet instead. Damn it. “Cass.” She flinched, glanced up briefly. He moved forward, pulled her in, invading the space she gave herself. She held her ground, chin tightening. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know.”

“Then what are you afraid of?” They shifted outwards, separated for a moment that nearly killed his heart, and then fit back together.

“Nothing. I’m afraid of nothing.” The phrasing was weird, uncommon, and Dustan caught it. She didn’t mean that there wasn’t anything she was afraid of.

“Okay then.”

They were face to back, stomping in circles, with his mouth against her wild hair. ”Cass,” he muttered.

She groaned and tipped her head back to rest on his collar bone. ”Dustan.”

He drew a line across her thinly clothed stomach with his finger. “Will you tell me where you’re from?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because you’re interesting.” He saw the edge of her lip tilt.

“Mm. How do you know I’m not from here?”

“Because. You’re different. You’re a stranger. Like me.”

She was quiet for a minute. ”England,” she said to the sky.

“Gorgeous place.”

She chuckled. “Ireland’s better.”

“I’m from Ireland.” He smirked.

“I don’t know why you would leave.”

He held his breath as she dropped to her knees in front of him, spun. His hands twisted in her hair and stayed there when she rose. “A lot of reasons,” he whispered against her jaw. “Why did you leave England?”

She laughed once, loud, sharp. “Something like that.”

He made a sound in the back of his throat because she either didn’t know what he meant- or she did, and this pretty soul had gone through hell.

“How long have you been traveling?” she asked against his neck.

“I don’t know. A few years. You?”

“I don’t bother counting. Forever, it feels like.”

“Yeah.” He traced little patterns into the bare skin of her shoulder, fingers dipping under the loose material of her shirt where it rested on her arm. Her hands, twisted in his hair and sneaking under the hem of his shirt, were distracting him.



She mumbled something that he didn’t catch. “What, Cass?”

She raised her head. “Do you ever get lonely? Like, really, truly lonely?”

“Sometimes.” He couldn’t say how it tore him apart. How it made him regret leaving even if he would be dead if he hadn’t.

Her hand slid down his chest, resting over his heart. “And what fixes it?”

Oh, god, he wished he could fix it. “I don’t know.” She made a choking sound and curled against him tighter. “Are you lonely tonight, love?”

“Maybe. Yes.”

“I’m sorry.” He wanted to help, didn’t want her to suffer. But she was still lonely with these people, with him, so what could he do?

“It’s not your fault.”

“Can I help? I want to help.” He petted at her red-blonde hair, fingers tangling through it.

“Just dance with me.”

And they did. They danced like hell and then some, until he couldn’t breathe and neither could she. Hands slid and mouths followed and what were they doing?

“Dustan.”

He made a noise in the back of his throat. They need to slow down, let go, but bloody hell. She kept hiking her knee over his hip, taking it back. His hand was under her skirt, against her thigh, pulling her back each time.

“Dustan, we should- should stop-”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

He groaned. “We don’t have to.” They should, but why? He couldn’t remember why. He was so lonely and she was so warm.

Her mouth touched his cheek as she tried to look at him. “Don’t we?”

Maybe yes was the responsible answer, the respectable one, but there was something her voice -hope?- that made him tug her away from the people. She followed him silently, still breathing hard. She pressed against his back, hands around his waist.

He turned when they reached a darker, quieter area, caught her hands as they fell from his body. She watched him, chewing on her lip. He wanted to lean down and take over the job, but he needed to say this. “Cass-” Could he? He wanted her so bad but this had the potential to make her walk away right now.

“What, Dustan?” Her voice was low, impatient or scared, he couldn’t tell.

He couldn’t not warn her, though. She deserved better. “Cass, I’m leaving tomorrow.” It hurt now, but he had known at the beginning of festival he was leaving when it was over. It was over tomorrow.

Her face was blank, devoid of anything. He couldn’t stand how much not knowing what she was thinking hurt.

“Say something, Cass.” Before I die.

“Okay. You’re leaving. What’s your point?”

What? She- what? “My point- my point was you should know. If we do this. I’m not going to be there when you wake up.” Even if he wanted to stay, he didn’t know how. It wasn’t a choice; it was a necessity.

She laughed and leaned into him, playing with his fingers. “I don’t care, Dustan.” She kissed his jaw, shifted to his earlobe and bit down. He jerked. “I might leave before you, did you think of that?”

Someone leaving before him? It had never happened. He didn’t know what to say, though, because was she so damn distracting, and nonchalant, and he’d never met another person that just didn’t care like that.

The only problem was, he thought he might. He might care, this time.

“Does that bother you, Dustan?” She leaned back, searching his face.

“No,” he said, because what else was there to say? Yes and he wouldn’t have this one moment, this one memory of actually wanting to be somewhere. No and he was lying, but who cared?

“Okay then.”

~~~~~~~~

He woke up to the sound of shuffling and zippers, a sound he knew way too well. He kicked the sheets until they were down to his waist so he could breathe, then rolled over.

Cass hadn’t lied; she definitely planned on leaving before him. She was already halfway packed. The sun wasn’t even up yet, and that meant they had only fallen asleep a few hours ago.

“Cass,” he said groggily.

She glanced up sharply, hand stuffing a shirt into her backpack. “Mornin’.”

“Mornin’.” How could she even think of moving this early? He wanted to curl back up and sleep, but the bed was cold with just him now. Damn it. “Come here, love.”

She shook her head as she bent down to grab the skirt she’d lost last night. He groaned. “Yes.”

“I’m packing, Dustan.”

“You can pack later. Come over here.”

“Dustan, we knew someone was going to leave first.” Her voice broke halfway through and he realized- she didn’t want to go anymore than he did.

“Yeah. You can leave. Later,” he repeated. He held his arm out, waited.

She stared at the floor for a minute before stepping over the backpack to the bed. He forced his eyes from her swaying hips to her eyes, which were studying his raised hand. Her fingers brushed his, trailed over a scar. Tightened.

He pulled and she came forward, knee coming up to the bed. She was still trying to not to, he could see, still thinking she needed to leave. He shifted onto his knees and tangled his hands in her hair. “You should wait for the sun anyway, Cass.” He kissed her jaw, slid down to kiss her collar bone.

“But then you’ll leave,” she whispered.

He glanced up. “What?”

“Nothing.” Then she kissed him, hard, long. He was thinking he’d convinced her when she jerked back. “Goodbye, Dustan.”

“What? Cass-”

But she was gone, backpack over her shoulder and door swinging behind her.

“Bloody hell.” He couldn’t do anything at all and then suddenly he was moving, jerking on pants and a shirt. He bounded out the door, down the steps, and she was there, twenty feet from him. “Cass!” She ignored him and he called to her again, trying not to fall as he rushed forward. “Cass, wait.” She was slowing, not stopping yet. “Cass, wait for me.”

And then she did stop, and she turned. She waited.