Girl with the Golden-Cat Eyes

The smell of a gentle, loving summer, drifted into her nose. Wide-eyed, Priscilla stared into the, also wide-eyed, Cyril. Eyes, brown as fertile earth, stared into pools of polished gold. Each girl stiff in awkward shock as their lips were pressed together. By instinct, Cyril had caught the girl in her arms as they fell. Priscilla felt Cyril's warm arms around her waist. The young girl's cheeks began to slowly burn with strange emotions. One thought floated in her mind.

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Her lips were softer than anything I've ever touched...

The moment was over and Cyril had been the first to react. She broke away and helped Priscilla sit up. Just as that happened, the others arrived.

"Are you okay!?" One of the children asked

"Yes!" Cyril answered. "We're fine. Right?"

Cyril turned to Priscilla. She nodded with vigor as everyone began to crowd around. Neither girl would meet each others' eyes.

≤ — ♥ — ≥

"So, me' Ladies... Err.." Alderman Joseph stalled; now noticing he hadn't asked their names.

"Priscilla Hammel," Priscilla bowed her head as she lightly sipped at the stew.

"Cyril Bailey," Cyril said absently.

Cyril's eyes examined the small cottage that the Alderman lived it. It was small, faintly lit by a hearth to their left - pressed into the corner. The man's wife sat beside him, both dressed in thick wool attire. With Cyril in the cottage, the temperature began to rise higher than any mere serf hearth could ever do. It was like an autumn night rather than a winter day.

"Alderman Joseph." He gave a weary smile. "What brings you girls to our small hamlet?"

Serfs held no last names, only job titles at the most. He was the village alderman, and thus, he was Alderman Joseph. He became slightly more nervous now though since both these young girls held last names. One, he even knew off. The Hammel Family. A Warrior family, one who'd served the Empire for nearly two hundred years; a prestigious bloodline. If this was a daughter of that family, then he'd be damn sure to beat those kids up. If they had hurt her or offended her, or... Or...

He dared not to think the wrath that'd fall on all their heads...

"My friend here wanted to 'play' in the snow," Priscilla smiled.