The three travelers, Anchor, Arrow, and Eye, decided to spend the night’s remainder huddled together under some contraband military shelters in the giant cave. This makeshift home was adequate for rest and renewal. Arrow’s health and body abilities were fast restoring. The usual back-from-the-dead side-effects of aggressiveness and talkativeness were most unbearable for Anchor and Eye. Anchor eventually slipped Arrow an herbal sedative. It was fast-acting and had the side-effect of slight inebriation making the already uninhibited Arrow warmly affectionate toward Eye. Not that he minded. For the youthful intellectual Anchor, the passion display made her ill or better said panicked. She feared such madness might consume her mind, too, one day. Anchor took a sleeping potion and left the others helplessly exposed to the dangers of the heart.
In the darkness, the slightly drunk Arrow snuggled up to Eye. He stared up out the open tent door perusing the real-life dangling steel anchor at the caves peak; the symbol of Anchor’s name.
“How long have you known Anchor?” asked Eye.
“You should be asking tender questions about me,” responded Arrow, as she inspected his eyes too closely for his comfort.
“OK. How long has Anchor known you?”
“That’s the same question. Only reversed.”
“Right. Please answer,”
“Are you in love with Anchor?”
He laughed nervously and squeezed her closer.
“I’m in love with the both of you, but you especially. Now that I’ve found you, I only know I’d be lost without you. All I’ve ever wanted, all I ever needed has come true, now that I’ve found you,” said Eye softly, “Is that what you want me to say to you, Arrow?”
She winced. “I deserved that musical stab. So you know that old love song, too. Tragic.”
“Will you tell me about Anchor? I really want to know about her. Will it harm anything?
“I will tell what I know which is almost nothing. But first I must say I’ve a strong liking for you, Eye. Even affection. Maybe more. I want to find out. Will you be patient and wait for me to return, should I be forced to leave you?”
“Whoa! That’s fast! You are asking for a big commitment. What are you willing to commit?”
“I can’t make commitments to anyone until I’m free from my bond as a royal bodyguard.”
“A one-sided deal, eh? I guess, in reality, I’ve nothing to lose,” he said as he stared into her dark eyes, “OK, fine. It’s a deal. Now, tell me what you know about Anchor.”
“You are persistent. Anchor is born of royal blood. Anchor was to perish along with millions of other innocents during Lamia’s military takeover. Anchor miraculously survived somehow. When she ventured out of Morgan, the Butcher’s cave, she had lived alone with the dead for along time. She then faced the ocean’s extraordinary power and won a battle over nature. This gave her incredible wisdom and credibility with the people. Some rumor the ocean is her mother and Anchor is supernatural.”
“I protected the royal family, except for the renegade depraved Lamia and her traitorous outcasts who returned to destroy all. Anchor was my ward. After surviving the massacres, I defected to the Resistance. When I heard Anchor was still alive, I returned to protect her. The Dragoness and her henchmen wish to destroy her to maintain their ill-gotten power. I’ve been with Anchor hunted and running ever since. That was nearly three years ago, she was just 14-years-old then. Anchor is an inspiration to the people.”
“She sounds like the Wise Old Man. People practically worship him. How many times has Anchor brought you back from death?”
“Three times. Once I almost didn’t make it. Too much tissue damage. You can see the scars still.”
She pulled back her shiny red hair showing the injured scalp behind the left ear.
“It was a close-range direct head shot. Nobody lives after those but Anchor brought me through. We couldn’t move from hiding for four weeks while I healed. Dangerous days.”
“Has Anchor ever been wounded?” Eye asked.
“No. She just escapes somehow. She has potions and elixirs for any ailment. She is full of trickery, like doing the pig’s blood stunt. That was her idea.”
“So Anchor attracts destruction to you but she heals your wounds afterwards. What an arrangement! Is she a witch? She commands like a military leader.”
“If she is an enchantress, may more witches lead us for I love and trust her dearly.”
“Arrow, I was curious. Have you dispatched many enemies while protecting precious Anchor?
“Too many. I never counted. They fall one at a time. It is my job to protect the throne, kill when necessary. The personal part is protecting Anchor.”
“But you are trained to kill, are you not, in highly efficient methods?”
“Why are you asking me this?”
“I guess I’m adjusting to loving someone who can beat me and snap my neck with her ankles?”
“Oh then. Let me demonstrate the gifts of a vigorous maid. Ready?”
“Wait. At the moment, snuggling close is just fine. Really.”
“Sure?”
“Yeah. Good night.”
“Remember our deal,” she suggested.
“No problem. Good night again.”
It seemed too simple for Arrow’s liking.
After a pause of silence, Arrow spoke softly.
“Do you want to braid my hair?” she asked with a guileless tone.
Eye hadn’t noticed even if Arrow’s red hair was long enough to braid. He noticed now that she had twisted it back in a tight pony tail.
“Sure. I guess,” he responded. It sounded interesting anyway.
She tottered over to the supplies to drag back two dining chairs obviously ransacked recently from somewhere nice.
Reversing one of the chairs so they were front-to-front, she staggered a bit straddling the front chair. She released her wound hair. Shivering long hair cascaded over her shoulders like red shadowy liquid. Resting her temple on her propped and outstretched arms she smiled affectionately at her timid friend.
“You’ve never done this before have you, Eye?” she teased.
“No,” was the faint response.
“Come on. You can’t handle me from over there,” she said while wagging a “come-closer” index finger motion.
He threw a leg over the chair behind her and admired the sea of red, dancing before him. There was no barrier between them. Her beauty and the openness of the moment caused his hands to tremble.
Arrow looked over her shoulder with one twinkling eye.
“Go ahead,” she said sensually, “Braid me.”
She giggled quietly at his silly uneasiness.
He cautiously picked up a strand of her mane. He swallowed in a dry throat.
“Are you sure you want to do this intertwining bargain?” Eye asked.
“It was your idea,” she fibbed, pouting melodramatically.
“Was it? Sorry.” He pretended not to remember.
After some time of weaving and interlacing, the resulting pattern pleased them both. She balanced two signal mirrors and inspected the work.
“You know this won’t stay forever. I’ll be needing you to braid this all over again soon,” Arrow said in a pretended demanding tone.
Eye understood the hidden meaning in her words. He felt her unspoken acceptance. His service was a two-way cooperative gift. It was his turn to relax and smile.
“A tradition of luxury for us both then,” Eye said. He mentally skipped into paradise imagining future braidings.
They were soon asleep enjoying the radiant warmth of being close. In the dark, Eye stroked the braided pattern he had created in Arrow’s hair. In her dream state, she mumbled unspoken desires. Eye struggled an internal battle between weakness and strength. He wondered if Arrow was sent deliberately to tease and taunt him. She was unquestionably the finest diversionary tactic he ever encountered.