( Back to Amara)
The man…Amara's captor to be precise (at least that appeared to be their equation at the moment)...crouched a few paces away from her with a bunch of firewoods , moving with the lazy, unbothered calm of someone arranging flowers instead of setting up a fire.
Amara glared at him from where she was tied, wrists chafed, muscles stiff. He didn't even look at her as he stacked the firewood…methodical, relaxed, humming a beautiful, melancholy tune under his breath like he was warming up for a picnic.
"Is this a joke?He is acting like this is a normal Monday?"
Her jaw clenched.
He dusted off his palms, stood up, and finally turned his head. A smirk…slow, crooked, annoyingly confident…tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Without breaking eye contact, he flicked a match.
FWSSH
The flame curled upward, bright and greedy, licking the wood with eager orange tongues.
"Are you feeling warm now?" he asked, voice dripping with mock concern.
