Bear Meets Bride (R) - Amy Star Page 0,6

closer. She walked out on the wing and leapt towards the rocky shore in one bound, her boots crunching under the pebbles and looked up at the two men. Both of them seemed a bit taken aback by her antics. Not lady-like enough, she thought.

“Er,” the bigger man fumbled for his words, “Welcome to the Island! I’m Chris, I’m Dylan’s patron for his training here. And this, of course, is Dylan.”

The younger man took a step forward. He had on a blue T-shirt and green pants that looked as if they’d been mended more than a few times. He had on a goofy grin but he looked very much like his picture. Handsome sheets of black hair loomed over his broad forehead, and his eyes were suddenly emerald in the reflection of sun off the lapping waves. He tried to smile, but like his picture, it was close-lipped. Probably as nervous as I am, she thought, and decided she wouldn’t stand on ceremony.

She extended her hand and grinned back, and felt giddy with the sensation of taking control. Even Dylan seemed a bit unnerved. Good, she thought mischievously. “I’m Sarah. I think you’ve been expecting me,” she said. Behind her, the float plane was already turning around, getting ready to head back to civilization.

Chris grinned at the awkward tension and almost started to laugh through his thick cheeks. He clapped his hands together, and Sarah was surprised at how strong he was. His thick arms seemed to buckle like tree roots as he offered to take her backpack. She gave him a quick look. He was bigger than Dylan, and looked more mature, too. It was obvious he had already gone through his initiation and training by the way he was enjoying himself.

“I can carry it,” she said. “I pack light.”

“Told you she was a catch!” Chris said conspicuously and elbowed Dylan, who bit down and flushed red. Sarah had to grin at that, at least she and Chris had that much in common, making Dylan uncomfortable.

As they made their way back to the cabin, Chris took point and started to whistle to himself, almost as if he’d forgotten the other two were following. Sarah breathed in the fresh air, enjoying the deep scents of the forest. There were worse places to get stuck, she figured. Then she caught Dylan looking at her.

“Awkward, isn’t it?” she said matter-of-factly.

He scratched his head shyly. “Something like that. Kind of puts me in a weird position, y’know?”

“How so?”

“Well,” he tried to find the right words, “I’m the one that chose you. Not the other way around. I know how I’d feel in your position. Heh. I’d probably hate it.”

She nodded. At least he was intuitive enough to realize the absurdity of the old traditions. She found herself relaxing a bit after this revelation. This whole time she had built up Dylan in her mind, assuming he was just as complicit in their arranged marriage as the elders were. I’m being selfish, she realized.

“Don’t worry about it,” she grinned, and readjusted the straps on her backpack. “I’m a bit prickly, at first. Everyone tells me that. It makes it hard for people to get to know me; I know that. Don’t take it personally, ‘k?”

“I’m not usually so clumsy,” he said in kind, trying to make a joke.

She narrowed her eyes at him, joining in. “I’ll try to remember that,” she smirked, “So, since we both probably know everything official about the other…”

“You grew up on the Silverback Farm,” he said, “and like Jane Austen.”

“And you hate scary movies and studied anthropology,” she fired back; they both laughed. In front of them, Chris gave a quick flitting glance over his shoulder and continued to whistle. “Well, how about unofficially?”

Dylan scratched his head again, trying to think of something that wouldn’t have been included in his profile. Sarah walked beside him, raising her eyes to him expectedly. He was surprised at how full of life she was. It was hard to describe a person’s personality in a few pieces of writing but he was pleasantly surprised by her openness. There was something decisive about her, a sharp edge that he found attractive. Not coy or demure at all.

More than that, she seemed to live up to his expectations. There was nothing soft or pampered about her, which was a quality he had come to expect (and dread) in the females that belonged to his caste. She was neither prim nor polished and there were no