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Chapter Four

   A week had passed, and neither had been as close to each other since their very first night together. No passion had been divulged at all.

That night Shantee had wept in Zinc's arms gave him now a feeling of guilt. Never had he made a woman cry, nor had he ever made one happy. The situation was a double-edged sword, so to speak. Zinc hadn't left her side for an entire day. They simply stayed in each other's arms like that. Or rather, she had fallen asleep in his arms while he stayed awake, staring over her body, trying to make sense of the feelings that now inhabited his body.

At one point he stood up to stretch. He walked around his home, the safe house for all the trinkets, but even being apart from her body that long made him feel like he was abandoning her, and so he bent back down and cradled her body close to his chest, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts against him, and the calming rush of air as she breathed upwards through her long nose.

He left for small portions of the day when he wasn't asleep and left her alone. During this time she would sit by herself huddled in a corner, her knees wrapped closely to her chest, and stared at the door. It was during a point like this that her eyes wandered for a moment, and were caught by something gleaming on the opposite side of the room.

She crawled very slowly, her limbs barely able to hold her weight because of malnutrition. Since her arrival she hadn't eaten a single morsel of food. She had absolved for herself on that day when he left completely that he did not love her like she loved him, and so she was starving herself in an attempt to rid him of her presence forever. There was no logic in her mind at the time, and she was not one to withdraw from a promise to herself; so it went, for seven days now, she hadn't placed a single scrap or breadcrumb in her mouth. He hadn't noticed that she hadn't eaten; only that she seemed increasingly tired everyday.

She had nearly no strength left, and at the very end of her journey across the floor to the artefact that had caught her eye she collapsed in exhaustion, having only enough strength left to grasp the artefact and bring it close to her face. She examined it closely. Or as closely as her failing eyes would permit. There was a tiny inscription on a plate of gold on the side. It read:

  Â

Crafted by Marcus Halstread VI

In memory of my son

And my darling wife.

Marcus Halstead? She thought, the famous craftsman? Why he had something of this importance here she would never know, but attributed it to the fact that he was a thief, though until this very moment was also under the influence that he was a very mediocre one, for the artefacts he had collected looked as though they were worth less then 20 bits, a price so low mere vegetables at market would fetch higher.

She shook off the thought and then drifted into darkness, her body lying unconscious on the floor, her head propped on her arm and the artefact hanging loosely in her palm.

Zinc wandered the city. Finding nothing of interest to him anywhere. All his thoughts were now somehow related to "her." This girl had given herself to him freely, with no hint of hesitation. Surely that counted for something? And now his mind was plagued with images of her. The beautiful and curvaceous body, her dreaming gaze and her ever present smile, which showed itself only in his presence, for he could creep up to her on some days and stare directly at her stony face, seeing no hint of interest in anything but him.

He sat by a wall outside a large home, in fact one of the largest of the city, slipping down the side and sitting lazily on the ground, his hand draped out on the dust and his head leaned over on his shoulder. He stared down the alleyway across from him and didn't notice the voice from beside him until the figure was nearly upon his drooping frame.

"Sir, I must ask you to leave here. Sir?" came the voice again.

Zinc looked up groggily at the guard plated in armour enough for war. But in this peaceful country? Ran Zinc's thoughts. Unless this is...

Zinc stood up with new energy and stared at the nameplate behind the guard, taken aback by his jump.

Just as he thought. The Firnanth's. The daughter of whom was none other than Shantee. He was outside the main gate of Sir Firnanth, one of the richest men in the city. This was her home.

"Sir? You must leave here. We can't have you dirtying the streets in this part of town." Came the guard's voice once again, breaking Zinc's trance.

"No... no... which is why I must see Sir Firnanth. It is of utmost importance," stated Zinc, now peering through the barred gate at the luxurious garden and front steps of the magnificent mansion.

"I suppose this has to do with an appointment?" asked the guard, "Come back tomorrow. He sees no one after midrise."

"Tell him it regards his daughter, Shantee," said Zinc, refusing to move.

The guard looked at him in puzzlement. Then in horror and with an excitement that was quite new for Zinc to see in a face. Apparently there had been much talk of Shantee among the servants and staff of this house. Word spread quickly.

The guard opened the gate and let another lead Zinc through the main doors of the apartments and into the home.

The floors were freshly polished, and it made Zinc feel self-conscious about stepping on the tiles, for his boots were dirty and left brown smudges along their porcelain surface. They came to a study, finely furnished, with a red carpet pulled across the slippery floor, which made Zinc feel much less embarrassed to dirty, as the dust from his shoes could barely be seen on the darker surface.

"Go now," came a voice from a large cushioned chair near the wall on the far end.

The guard left and Zinc was alone with the man he new was the owner of this establishment.

"I know who you are," said the grave voice, "You're that boy... that my daughter..."

"That is correct sire," said Zinc, with politeness uncharacteristic of him.

"Why did you come back?" he asked.

"I want you to take her back," said Zinc, "With or without me."

"It would be without you. But now I must ask," and the man swung the chair on its swivel so that he faced the boy, "Why would you give her away? Does she not mean to you what you mean to her?" The man's voice was grey and foreboding, holding a tone of complete intolerance for Zinc.

"Perhaps it is best for me to explain myself to you..." said Zinc, pulling up a chair and speaking without pause to the man opposite, who glared evilly back at the boy.

Zinc came to the storehouse late that night to find Shantee sprawled across the floor. Her eyes sunken and her face a pale he had seen only in a dying man once before. It was the sure sign of starvation, and he kicked himself for not noticing it sooner. Panic stricken, he bolted for the water jug in the corner, dipping a cup in the clear liquid and moving quickly to Shantee's side, propping her head up on his one arm while dripping the water carefully over her lips. She did not come to life immediately, but there was still life within her as he checked both her pulse and her breathing.

Her lips were the first to move, as they instinctively tried to take in the water that was so generously swimming over their parched surfaces. Then her tongue, as it reached without enthusiasm for the gentle trickle that faded as quickly as it had come. She moaned weakly, her eyes fluttering open to stare at Zinc's face without thanks or gratitude or emotion. They were blank, and it frightened Zinc more than finding her near death had, for the eyes that had shown him so much of her soul had closed to him, now as empty and unfeeling as his were. Suddenly he felt terrible for making her deal with him like that. He realized now that he had pained her far more than he ever could have known, as if he had cut her legs right out from under her and left her to die in the sun.

Let me die. Is what she would have said just then had he not brought her now living body close to his. He wept, his chest heaving heavy, panicked sighs of relief. He let the cup fall to the ground and spill its contents onto the floor.

"Please forgive me," he said meekly, weeping caught on his voice, "Please don't die like this... please..."

Had she not been so weak she would have lifted her arms to bring him down for a kiss, but she could not find the strength, and so whispered back to him almost responsively: "Forgive... you."

His tail lay on the floor without any enthusiasm but trailed across the ground slowly to find hers lying just as pensively. He pressed his tail under hers and coiled it around the fluffy length.

He brought her body up and sat her on her knees, her body wavering and wobbling with weakness. He tore through a chest behind him and pulled out several pieces of meat, kept fresh in the trunk due to the shade they were kept in as well as the trunk's body being underground where it truly was cool. He bit off a piece and chewed it, moving towards her and placing his lips against hers, moving the ground meat into her mouth so that she could swallow it easily, with minimal effort. She ate it gratefully, and wept after the meal was finished as the realization struck her that she had truly tried to kill herself, and rid herself of the angel that she had given up her own home and family and title for. If nothing else, his actions now proved enough to her that he loved her as well. If nothing else, she could be happy as long as he looked at her as he had only moments before.

Feeling minutely more powerful with the surge of fullness from her stomach she leaned forward, or rather fell forward onto him and wrapped her arms round his neck tightly. They fell to the floor and she kissed him passionately.

Breaking the kiss only momentarily she said: "Forever and ever..." she said, "I forgive you forever and ever."

He chuckled lightly and smiled into the kiss, lifting her lips from his briefly as he opened his eyes, now fluid with all the feelings and emotions that she had previously shown him radiating in those two green orbs. He kissed her back, holding her shoulders with his arms. She melted then, and tears streamed from her eyes, closed as they were, onto his shirt, leaving tiny dark marks against him.

He couldn't deny it to himself any longer. It really was love. Every moment he was away was an agony, and every moment he spent by her side was bliss. He would ask for nothing else in his existence as long as he could keep her. Nothing else mattered to him any longer. He kept her close to him that night.

They fell asleep in each others' arms, neither stirring, for both were perfectly content the way they were.