Saturday, July 19, 2008

No Rest for the Wicked: Part Eleven

The sun was sinking low on the horizon, as Sparrowhawk and the Green Man lingered in the garden. The blonde in leather looked up at the Green Man, her blue eyes wide and fascinated.

"Look..." she laid a gloved hand on his arm, "I...I know it's hard, but to me, that night in the station wasn't a decade ago. It was just the other day."

"You lost that decade," the Green Man shook his head. "And I lost you a decade ago, under the shadow of that old chapel. When you walked back into my life it was out of the past. You have to understand that for the rest of us ten years passed. I've met someone else, and it's serious. We never really got started..."

"Then how can you know I'm not the one?" Sparrowhawk sighed, brushing strands of golden hair out of her face. The setting sun gleamed on her hair, offsetting her mask. "I know how it must seem, my striding back in the way I did. But I can't help it. After all this time, have you really forgotten?"

She leaned close to him, her other hand climbing to his lapel. She raised red lips, her eyes closing langourously. This close, the Green Man could not fail to notice her perfume.

"Sparrowhawk." The Green Man turned away, looking up to the moon that was slowly showing above the trees. "I can't, and you really shouldn't..."
"Sure," she sighed, "but I'm a naughty little Hawkie. Besides, it's not like I've got that much to lose. You want me out of here, don't you?"
"Forty years or so ago," the Green Man nodded, "someone wearing your mask and costume let an evil man get away because they got too involved. I'm not going to let that happen again."
"And you're not gonna get too involved with me, either." Sparrowhawk shook her head, sighing. "Look, I'm in now, so what do we do?"
"We catch the guys who are about to try to kill Lord Ambrose." The Green Man spoke sternly to the blonde in leather. "You take the North wing. I'll take the South."

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