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The letters in bold/italics are the notes mentioned in the story.205Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡx63f9wjIUD
Song: The Pines.205Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjpSgfrujDG
Artist: Roses and Revolutions.205Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ64LJzJc6Vl
Enjoy! :)205Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡofbsbWg5Ex
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It was with a sequence of notes that they devised their getaway. Little yellowed scraps of parchment folded up neatly and tucked into pockets in passing, subtly as not to be caught.
They were young, Amora Lauder and Cassian Rhodes, only sixteen, too immature to be in love according to the regulations of society. But they were never the type to care or to heed the rules set before them. Though they preferred to pretend that the relationship carefully strung between them wasn't frowned upon, it was something that simply couldn't go overlooked. The whole rationale behind the painstaking secrecy of their love was the subject of their surnames, the undying vendetta that was shared between their two households.
There was nothing to be done to stop them; they'd made up their minds. They were going to run away. It was precarious and spontaneous and so very criminal; if they were ever caught, they were peeking directly into the countenance of death, for surely, an offense that significant would never end in anything but a verdict of execution. But to them, their love was worth that hefty price.
So a plan was slowly cultivated, scrawled on paper, and carefully coded so as to disorient anyone in the event of a misplaced note.
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When you see the lights up high.
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When the stars were above their heads, luminous and expansive, they'd leave beneath the veil of darkness, never again to return.
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When you see the air in the sky.
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October twenty-fourth was the set date; when the evenings curled into the frigid oath of a soon coming winter, cold enough that you could see your breath in plumes of steam fleeing your lips.
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Only the trees keep us in line.
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They'd make a home among the trees and bed upon the fast-dying grass. It was there that they'd remain till the end of their days, dead or alive.
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We'll be gone by the light of day.
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When the sun would skim over the horizon, they'd be gone, lost to the pink-stained sky and security of daylight.
Leave all our secrets behind.
Two knapsacks with food and water, iodine, matches, gauze, gloves, a knife, a compass, and a blanket, that was it. Nothing else was being brought; no reminder of the life they were leaving behind. They wanted nothing less of a fresh beginning without the haunting recollection of the place they once dubbed home.
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When you've gone and lost your way.
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Amora concealed her notes in a little leather pouch, which remained folded between her mattress and bedframe, lingering until the faithful day when she'd vacate the room she called her own and burn the memoranda, pouch and all.
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When there's nothing left to say.
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Their parents were unknowing as to what would transpire that night; while they considered their children to be fast asleep in their beds, they'd really be climbing out their windows and whispering their final goodbyes to the houses they'd known all their lives.
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Meet me in the pines.
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The night was cold and transparent, the plan operating just a little too smoothly. They assembled at the treeline, beneath the lofty pines, boots crunching atop the needle-laced frozen soil as they left it all behind. The notion was to go north a hundred miles, sure it'd take them months, considering the time to be spent eating and resting, but they now had all the time in the world. The forest was theirs, and they were of the forest; they were surrendering to the unknown, submitting to the potential disarray of their brand-new lives.
The hours drifted together slowly as their hometown grew distant behind them, the trees veiling the place where they grew up. As the sun mounted the sky, they settled within a cluster of trees and being absolutely and completely depleted, settled on Cassien being the first to take watch while his girlfriend tried to catch some sleep.
Amora didn't know how long she'd been out when she was jostled awake.
"Amora...Amora, get up...they found us..."
Everything after that was a blur, the shot at hiding, being seized, handcuffed, and hauled back out of the woods, heads hanging and hearts in their throats.
Apparently, Amora's sister had been wide awake when her sister disappeared and after watching her leave the house, roused her parents, who then alerted the authorities.
The following week consisted of trials, interrogation, and the view of nothing but the bars of jell cells. They knew it was over, and though they gave it their best shot, in the end, their love would be the death of them. Perhaps it was better off that way.
The day came when the doors were opened; the two star-crossed lovers left the cells that had become their provisional homes and were ushered out into the town square before a gathering mob. The barrel of a gun pointed in their direction, words escaping the mouth of their executioner; they were now a cautionary tale, don't fall in love with your rival.
Amora squeezed her eyes closed, her fingers lacing with those of her boyfriend's as she recalled the note scratched in charcoal that Cassien had pressed into her palm just the night before when they were told that they would be terminated the following day.
Through the flames, forever we'll stay, hand on heart, heart on mind. We'll be gone by the light of day. Leave all our secrets behind. Meet me in the pines.
And it was the beauty of their lives, their love story; though a danger to others, it was never anything but perfect to them. Together forever, even in death, their final thoughts as the gunshots blasted were of each other and the life they could have had out among the pines.
ns 15.158.61.46da2
