I've always thought that my weakness when it came to sleep was a payment for my other strengths, my high tolerance for pain and emotional fortitude. Most people probably thought of me as a cross between an ice queen and a battle axe. I could probably withstand all sorts of torture but if they applied sleep torture, I'd fold like a soggy house of cards.
Well, last night I hadn't gotten much sleep. We'd received fresh intelligence from the southern border and stayed up late analyzing it and coming up with new plans and contingencies. Jonah had gotten as much sleep as me, but he took it look it in stride, his squinty expression and gruff voice only serving to soften his usually formidable appearance. Me, I turned into an owl-eyed shrew.
He was shuffling through some papers. "Baby, where's the ..."
I sighed loudly, "The what?"
More shuffling. "The ... uh ... "
I turned to glare at him. He felt it through his sleepy fog and looked up. "The defense plans for the western border," he enunciated.
"No idea." I snapped, and stormed out of the room.
Knowing you're a being a bitch doesn't actually help you stop, especially when your head is throbbing. I kept this up all morning, taking a small perverse pleasure in provoking a response. So far I'd only earned a few narrow eyed looks and stern tones, but I knew he'd revolt soon enough. One of the things I loved about him was that he didn't take any shit, despite my penchant for giving it to him.
It was early afternoon when that wave crested. Jonah was organizing some of the men in some fighting exercises. We didn't anticipate a clash anytime too soon but Jonah always kept us at the ready. I had heading out away from the huts towards my herb gardens.
"Liza, hold up a sec."
I stopped walking but didn't turn towards him, to express my displeasure.
"Listen, I know you're tired. How about you take a nap now?"
"I don't need a nap," I snapped, disproving my own point. "I'm not a baby"
"You're not a baby, but you're acting like one" he grated.
"You know what? Screw you," I fumed. "I don't need you following me around telling me what to do." Right in front of everyone, too. Maybe I was PMSing.
I stormed off around the copse of trees, coming up with other mean and totally undeserved things to say in my head. I'd made it almost to the herb gardens when I heard long strides crunching behind me. Time's up.
I glanced behind me but that was a mistake. His scowl was seriously scary and his walk was totally predatory. All of a sudden I wanted to wimp out. I sped up, but his longer legs easily kept pace with mine. We continued forward in this strange but age old dance of predator and prey, keeping our distance.
Then in a burst, I ran for it. I headed towards the cabin that I knew was nearby. I hadn't thought through how that was going to help me, but the draw of shelter was pretty instinctual.
The branches snapped at my arms and face but I didn't slow down or look back. I didn't need to; I knew he would follow. I broke through the clearing and sprinted the last few yards into the cottage and slammed the door.
There was no lock. I spotted the table and chairs in the corner and dashed over, intending to use a chair under the doorknob as a barrier. But as I reached the corner the door slammed open, bringing a rush of angry wind.
I froze. Then turned.
He stepped inside the cabin, looking incredibly focused and furious.
"So, you're in a pissy mood today." His calm tone was eerie in wake of our chase.
I, on the other hand, was breathless. "Go away."
"No, I don't think so. There's something else I'd like to do."
"Leave me alone."