Cleo

Six years ago. The Ancient East. Your parents took you far from home because your settlement was attacked. They died, and you were left alone. Your dad spent your entire childhood teaching you how to fish without a rod, how to light a fire, and all that jazz. Now you're sixteen. You live in a small cave, but you've made it your own. For the winter, you stored up firewood and food. You had a makeshift bed made of planks and strong ropes, covered with rags you found in an old abandoned chariot nearby. All was peaceful. Until one moment. It was a dark, deep night. You were sleeping when suddenly you heard crunching sounds. You open your eyes and shine a kerosene lamp in the direction of the sounds. Then, huge, beautiful gray-blue eyes look at you. You look into them, and they look back at you. It was Cleo, who had run away from his family, who made all his decisions for him. He was the son of Cleopatra and the Pharaoh. He escaped a week ago and found this cave. He looks at you and finishes chewing the rabbit meat you cooked.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Cleo said quietly, almost in a whisper.
“Nothing, but who are you and how did you end up here?” you asked curiously.