Brayden's Dream

He woke up next to a stream; somewhere in the forest; he had no idea how he got there, but felt a sense of dejavu. Aside from some bruising and some minor cuts he seemed fine physically; except for the pounding in his head. Craving relief for his dry throat he rolled onto his stomach and swished the water from the stream into his mouth. After satisfying his thirst he began to stand so he may begin to try to figure out just where exactly he was. His head began to swoon and his eyes blurred causing him to stumble forward. Catching himself on the tree just a small distance from the stream, he managed not to fall completely; however, he knew he needed to sit for a bit and get his wits about him.
As he sat propped up against the tree he began to remember; maybe it was the distinct similarities in where he was now to where he had first encountered her. She was on the battlefield, he remembered that; how long she had been there was unclear. What were her intentions? If she meant to kill him, she easily could’ve done so; so why spare him? It was all too much for him to think about; he needed to focus on where he was and try to figure out how to get back to his kingdom. “Let me just rest here a bit and gain some strength,” he thought to himself; it would do him no good to try to figure this mess out with his head as foggy as it was. Closing his eyes, intent on resting for just a bit, he fell sound asleep, as dream images began to fill his head.
He woke up feeling a sense of anxiety as his eyes scanned the room he was in. There was a small chimney straight in front of the small bed he awoke in, the window to his right allowed bright rays of sun shine through and allowed him to see a beautiful array of colorful flowers outside in what seemed to be a garden. Other than that there was nothing spectacular about the room, it was clean but plain; unlike the huge four poster bed with handmade quilts and goose feather blankets he was used to. Remembering vaguely being at the stream, hurt, and the woman that was there was nursing his wounds. Ahhh, the witch; he remembered now, it just took him a moment. As he tried to sit up his head became woozy and the sharp pain in his stomach reminded him of his injuries; letting out a loud groan, he fell back onto the bed.
Harper entered the room carrying a tray filled with a small wooden cup containing chamomile tea, a bowl of soup and some homemade ointments for his wound. Not saying a word she set the tray down on the stand next to the bed and left back out the door she came in. Brayden lay still as he stared at the door, both nervous and curious as to exactly what the witch was doing; he wasn’t about to touch anything on that tray just yet.
He watched as she re-entered the room; this time carrying what seemed to be healing supplies of some sort; and he began feeling uncomfortable. Trusting a witch was not something he tended to do, but he knew of her abilities to heal him so he decided to go against all of his beliefs, “what kind of boogity boo taboo are you planning on using, witch?” he asked as he wiggled the fingers on both his hands, mocking her.
Inside she felt anger build within her spirit, but she would never allow him the satisfaction of seeing it. He felt the smack of the cloth hit his face as she tossed it at him; her feistiness intrigued him. Smirking a bit, he pulled the cloth off his face as he watched her continue in silence; she stirred the paste mixture in the bowl and sat down on the stool she pulled next to the bed. Pulling the sheet that covered him down slightly, she pulled up the dirtied shirt he was still wearing in order to gain access to his wound. The cloth she had put on it earlier was filthy with a mixture of sweat dirt and dried blood; surely it would be stuck to the wound. She got up and walked to the basin she had poured hot water into and doused the rag with it; wetting the cloth would make it easier to remove.
Returning to the bed she began to dampen the dirtied cloth on his wound and gently eased it off. He never winced nor blinked as he continued to watch her as she worked to nurse his wound. When she finished she stood back up and gathered her pastes and ointments back onto the tray and left the room. He lay there expecting her to return, but when she didn’t, he turned his head and stared at the bowl of soup and cup of tea. It did smell wonderful and he was famished; tossing all of his worries out of the window, he devoured the soup.
Some time had passed and she still hadn’t returned. Feeling a bit better, Brayden tried once again to get out of bed. He began to stand slowly; and before he knew it he was standing in front of the window peeringout at the flower garden. He couldn’t help but notice how beautiful and tranquil it seemed; she must tend to it faithfully, he thought. He caught her out of the corner of his eyes, just to the side of the cottage; she had her arms full with what seemed to be vegetables and herbs as she made her way back inside. Deciding to venture out of the room; he found himself walking quietly down a barren corridor to the opening of a room where he saw her standing at a counter organizing the vegetables she brought in. “Finally decided to stop being a baby and get out of bed, I see.” She never turned around as she addressed him, continuing to clean the items from the garden. “As you are well aware, witch, I am direly injured and more so I am definitely no baby.” Turning towards him, she lay down the herbs she had been working with and grabbed a cloth from the counter to dry off her hands, “Witch I may be, warrior, and a baby you may not be but it is what I see your actions as,” she stood defiantly across the room as they stared at each other in silence. She began walking towards a cabinet next to the cottage door; weary of her intent, Brayden never took his eyes off of her as she pulled out several long cloth pieces. “There is a basin of warm water and a cleaning bar waiting outside near the cedar tree, you can wash up there. Give me your clothes when you are done and I will see to it they are cleaned,” she firmly told him as she thrusted the linens into his hands. Grinning, knowing he was about to annoy her yet again, he answered, “and what shall I cover myself with while my clothes are being cleaned?” He was testing his limits with her, they were both aware, and he wasn’t quite sure why he enjoyed flustering her but he did. “Do not worry, I’m sure you will find a small fig leaf out there to cover yourself; the rest can go bare,” and with that along with a smirk she turned and left him to himself.
She returned to the counter to continue her herb and vegetable cleaning; out of the window she saw him in all his glory, by the basin washing. Her thoughts began to consume her mind as she couldn’t stop looking at him; he really was a beautiful man. The sun seemed to glisten in golden light off the water he poured over his head and massive, hairless chest. Looking at him, she could see where he would be intimidating; his stature alone was enough to emboke fear, but there was just something about his aura, his very presence, that commanded attention; but for her, these qualities just annoyed her. If he wasn’t such an ass she might be attracted to him; but men like him are used to being catered to, and for Harper that just was not going to be an option.
The sun felt wonderful on his body as he poured the water over him; although it had just been two days since he washed himself, he was filthy from battle and then his injuries. The water, although warm, was a refreshing cooling sensation; paired with the cleaning bar, Brayden felt alive and refreshed. As he finished cleaning he didn’t use the cloths she had given him to dry with; the sun felt so good on his clean wet body he just decided to let the fresh air dry him. Taking a deep breath he smelled the aroma of the flowers, the dew on the grass, and let the rays from the sun soak into his body. This place was invigorating, calming even; although he had no idea where he was, he liked it here. As he continued looking over the land his eyes came back to the cottage beside where he stood; landing on the woman staring at him through the window. He felt his breath catch a bit as she stared at him; damn she was beautiful.
He didn’t trust her; how would he even know if anything was real or a spell? A little time would tell, he guessed, but at the moment he had another issue to deal with; his own body. He was still a man, after all, and watching her watch him in all his naked glory awakened his body in a way he could not control; and he did not like it.
Noticing his body reacting to her watching him made Harper blush; she didn’t want him to know she was watching him, but he caught her before she could turn away. No matter, she saw the effect she had on him and it made her feel in control for some reason and she liked that feeling. Yes, he may be a fierce warrior, but he was still a man.