The Heart Cries

The night had fallen its embrace over the country side. The small group decided to take a rest because there were still miles to be walked until the destination was to be reached. hey all took turns, taking watch in case if the tribe comes after them and attacked.
Miraye's second shift ended and she strayed away from the other two, Stelon not questioning. She slept below a hill, where it was cold and misty. This didn't seem to bother her at all, for she was feeling rather bitchy.

Miraye awoke due to a sudden jerk at her neck. She opened her eyes and saw a hovering shadow over her, hands encircled around her neck. She didn't scream or call for help. She just stared at the thing that was strangling her. It was getting painful, her breathing getting more difficult, her heartbeat slowing. In a manner of minutes, she was dead.
Or was she? No, because the next thing Miraye knew, she was floating abover her body. She frowned at the sight, not seeing the thing that had apparently murdered her. Was she a ghost? She started to think when her surroundings started to race past her, fleeting swiftly. She looked around, dazed when everything was coming to a stop slowly. Miraye turned around and noticed the small little shack next to a river with a valley of flowers. It seemed vaguely familiar, and she lowered her spirit to the ground.
Miraye peered inside the window. The fireplace was ablaze, crackling and hissing sparks. She looked around some more and noticed the tall chair in front of the fireplace. There was a hand cuffed at the seat, reading a book.
A distant chime rung, and the figure looked up at the clock. The figure stood up, put down the book and headed towards the pathway downstairs. Miraye floated through the walls and followed silently. The figure stopped and picked up a stuffed bunny toy on a small coffee table.

'Wait a minute,' she thought. She looked at the toy. 'Usai-ne? That's my-'
The figure turned around and looked directly at Miraye. Seryale. Miraye glared back at him, opening her mouth, but his eyes were a far and dreaming. She turned to see what he was looking at and saw the mantlepiece. A picture of a twelve year old Miraye, the bunny toy in her arms. Next to her sat Seryale, both were smiling. She was in his embrace in that picture. It ran a chill through her spine. Miraye looked back at her teacher, and started to stare into his gray eyes. He couldn't see her, but she knew he was miserable. And deep inside, she was too. She didn't want to admit it, but it was clearly read in her soul.
Miraye reached out for her teacher when she found herself out of the house and speeding back to her body.

Miraye sat up, gasping for breath, and clutching her heart. It hurt, and she coughed. She looked up at the three moons above her. She frowned slightly. "You're not going to fool me, I know what you're planning," she muttered. "You really don't want me to return to that boy, eh? Sorry Seryale, but I can tell you were behind this."
She layed back and closed her eyes, not remembering any more dreams that night.
But this was not the work of her Serayale-- only the mask of her heart.