"How long have you been here?" Zayn's cool voice echoed in the hall. Turning away from a poem that I found on the wall, that I've stared at for a while wondering if I could translate it. But after twenty minutes, I couldn't figure it out and have been burning the symbols into my mind.
When I met his black eyes, I could see the mixture of relief seeing that I was fine, but then worry became noticeable, seeing that I was standing there trying to warm myself up. "I don't know, but long enough that I'm hungry and cold," I muttered, stepping away from the poem, walking over to a bowl of fire, to warm up my cold hands.
"Here, I brought a blanket. The last thing you need is a cold." He muttered, draping the blanket over my shoulders while holding my curious gaze. I chuckled lightly at his statement, before pulling the blanket closer, glad to have another layer.
