CHAPTER FIVE

She separated herself from her father, wiping off the remnant of the tears which still rolled down her eyes. She sniffled her nostrils as her eyes rattled through its sockets, searching for something which would be of comfort for a seat.

The darkness had enveloped the landscape, leaving the full moon as the only point source of light and illumination. 

She searched around, with little traces of fear being depicted in her movement. She shivered at the rapid sound of dry leaves being moved on the ground. His heart rate increased speedily, accompanied by heavy breathing, huffing, and puffing as though she was engaged in something rigorous.

The Phantom had left a footprint of fear within, coupled with the wild thoughts which filled her head. They came like little trances, like short clips of what had happened and how the phantom had growled loudly at her.

The thoughts alone made an impact on how her physical body was positioned, causing her to trip to the ground and land her bottom on a hard tree.

Surprisingly, she had searched for something which would have acted like a seat, and she had found none. And suddenly, she fell unintentionally on a large wood that seemed to have been positioned for what she had sought: comfort.

She ran her hands on the wood, and it seemed fresh, as that which was cut down by the phantom's rage. 

The phantom. The word kept on ringing in her head as the trances resumed as she sat on the log. She remembered standing as though she had lost it all, mostly when she had watched the beast squeeze life out of the one who had birthed her.

It seemed as though all was over and nothing was left to have in the living. She stood as though she was eager to join her mother like she was tendering herself to be like a sacrificial lamb to ease the phantom's fury.

Mila felt a weakness inside of her, feeling loneliness and emptiness. Far from the fact that she sat in a location that was far and unknown to her and her father, there was an inner emptiness that was triggered by her mother's death.

Her heart ached as it realized the last statement she had heard her mother out, or probably the smile on her face which usually assured her of what the future held for her and her mother's continual process.

Her dry eyes were soaked in the wetness of her tears, and they began rushing down in an enormous amount like a waterfall.

She felt the fear again. She still couldn't place her hands on what the fear entailed, even though her father was still alive. Likewise, she considered herself still a living being due to the fact her father was to come to her rescue when she had killed off the fear within her and gave herself out for the phantom's pleasure.

Yet, there existed a fear, a certain loneliness, and boredom that stirred within her. 

Her mother, who was going to hold her close and assure her that things would still be fine? 

Who would wrap hands around her or tighten the hold of the blanket on her body when it seemed as though she would be frozen by the cold?

Now she felt what she thought, the slow and calm whistling sound of the cold winds moving through the woods, making the leaves and other feeble objects dance and move in its direction.  

The cold was striking. Her hands were wrapped around her body, and with the slightest touch on her skin, she felt a certain heat, and she hissed at the pain she felt. 

Her eyes were narrowed down to her skin which was already reddish, far beyond the usual color of her skin. The collision of the phantom, which had thrown her far away towards a large tree, could have been the cause.

Then she realized her entire body still ached. Her feet could have developed some blisters due to the intensity of the race that she had undergone.

Her head ached as well, though mildly and minutely, it felt as though it would shatter and let its contents spill onto the earth.

Furthermore, her body wasn't adapting to the movement of the cold winds, rather she felt as though she would freeze as she sat in an exposed area. Her teeth gnashed against each other, and she furiously rubbed the palms of her hands against each other in a bid to generate heat.

Her actions couldn't keep up with the intensity of the winds, and she sat to ponder on how long she would have to rub her palms to generate an amount of heat that wouldn't match the cold.

She looked around, and she realized her seclusion was a negative idea. Her father could have been so far away and here she sat in an unknown area, slowly freezing to death.

Still lost in her thoughts, she heaved out a heavy breath of relief as she felt warmer than the previous minutes. It felt as though something was placed on her and drove the cold out of her body.

Then she realized, it wasn't just her thoughts, but a reality. Her father had stood from behind her and placed warm clothes over her, the leather felt the warmth which caused her to smile in her comfort.

“Here!” Her father uttered from behind as he let his hands arrange the cloth on her body before he walked over to have a seat closer to her.

He didn't feel any iota of the cold. In his mind, he had faced worse than a cold win, and just like the previous minutes, he engaged himself in something which he could have considered the most brutal battle he had ever faced.

He sat close to Mila, yet for seconds to pass, he never had the boldness to look at her. Maybe he was able to have a close look, but it had to be from an angle that she wouldn't be able to detect. 

"A penny for your thoughts?” He swallowed hard before he asked, letting his fingers intertwine before he took his eyes off the ground onto her face.

“Maybe” she replied with a less concerned tone, holding the cloth placed on her tightly while she tried to resist staring at him.

She was irate, thoughts running through her mind as to what her father had told her just before she decided to remain secluded away from him.

There were no words to describe what she felt at that moment, or maybe she just needed clarification on what he wanted her to do.

“Look, Mila, what you're asking of…” He sat upright and was about to utter out when her words intercepted him, causing him to stop in his statement.

“…is it impossible?” She asked with her eyebrows raised, sitting up with her hands wrapped around her body and staring at her father.

"You don't think anyone can do it?” She asked again, making her father's next response tougher than what he had expected.

He heaved a heavy sigh, letting his thumb and the other fingers of his left-hand massage his temple and forehead respectively, and his right hand placed on his thighs as he wondered what next to say.

She was growing up faster than he had ever imagined, and her words and questions were becoming tougher than what he could ever imagine and answer. 

“Mila.!” He groaned her name in his frustration. 

“No father. You need to tell me why I can't go after that monster. Tell me why we cannot defeat that beast together” she stressed, having a boldness that took away every saddened emotion inside her.

At some point, she almost broke down into another round of tears, but she fought it off with an unfathomable boldness, still having her eyes on her father as she awaited answers.