The like-minded silence could be felt louder than any rattle of the large wooden wheels against the path leading far enough to connect the horizon of forest into one. Some walked on the sides with slumped necks towards the cloudless sky, skin beginning to burn with red. Some sat in the open roofless carriages face to face, side by side yet all connected by the same emotionless expression hidden away. Particularly one amongst them, distinct head of red curls held in both, childless palms of hands with a throbbing headache from the relentless cry of loss. They moved slow, far enough from the town to feel safe and reserve some energy for the journey ahead. The next Town of Lufin would be nearest, and a messenger had been sent ahead on a horse to ride through the night with no rest and give them a heads up of what had taken place, and that a group of few tens of men, women and children would soon seek refugee in any vacant building that they had to offer with a roof on top.
The sun was still high up in the sky, as if no chaos had engulfed their whole entire close-knit world a whole. Their paradise consisted of simple everyday routines and familiar faces. What was meant to be a day of celebration had unexpectedly turned into a burning purgatory surfaced from seemingly nowhere.
Marié’s head was filled with voices, relentless wailing which wouldn’t stop. You failed to protect, you left her, how could you, how do i face them? Call yourself a mother how dare you—I should’ve stayed behind and— Words which kept repeating and overlapping. Filling her head momentarily louder and then again quieter like waves in tide peeling and un-peeling over and over enough to cause physical pain. A sensation which she welcomed with open arms. Deeming to deserve every last bit of it. Before her whole entire world fell apart, Marié had been earnestly cleaning the cabin from every corner. Long awaited deep cleaning before the beginning of the one-hundredth celebration. She had taken Marvy by the old teacher Mrs. Pepper’s so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty about forcing her to play alone, allowing Marié to completely immerse into the task so she could get everything done on time. Never did she imagine such insignificant choice would become her most selfish, unsurpassed mistake to bear. Husband on the road, certainly unaware of what had unfolded. Father Derrik accompanying sick mother Vivian by the Town of Lufin’s hospital. Marié had been by the sink, wetting a cloth and humming a gentle song when the loud bang and a force which followed shook the windows, making them jingle visibly as the unknown washed through each object on its way. She could still remember vividly woodcutter Bill’s slight reassuring nod by his doorstep, holding the old nearly rusty shotgun as she was reluctantly carried in the carriage by the rushing evacuation.
Each and every person heard the same noise around them without listening. Every person had something, or someone left behind. Their homes, their lives, their whole entire reality now shattered. Marié took in air, her tight throat shockingly letting it through filling the lungs as she finally lifted her head up and let it drop back heavy against the railing of the open carriage. The bright sun burned her tear swollen eyes, forcing them nearly shut. Her lips were dry and pale, her complexion turning grey when a woman next to her—an acquaintance who consistently visited the Mona family bakery each Monday morning, her regular order still perfectly in Marié's memory —leaned over her to take a look. It seemed as if she was about to say something, ask if Marié was okay and could handle going on without a break, when she instead gasped with a sharp tone.
’’There—’’ The woman pointed a finger over Marié which she did not pay attention to at first, ’’Look, there.’’ The woman now shook Marié’s shoulder to force the unwilling attention.
Marié closed her eyes shut, used every drop of last energy left and turned her head right, feeling the heavy movement until her cheek would press against the shoulder on its own simply because of gravity. She saw faces tired from sadness. She saw no belongings, no family jewels saved, no food nor water. Not a single hint of conversation. Those simple words by the woman the only one there had been for who knew how long. Marié’s eyes kept traveling through the crowd—far behind—until the woman’s pointing finger finally made sense.
’’Isn’t that Miss Sophia—’’ The Monday acquaintance couldn’t finish her sentence when Marié suddenly came upon a strike of enormous blast of strength out of nowhere. She jumped up standing and immediately down from the back of the carriage, falling on the exhausted knees but forced herself up despite the ache. Her desperate pleading eyes set on the familiar figure not far away, guiding those out of the way who did not pay attention to her coming through. Gaze set on the golden hair and slim figure—the white scarf around her now beginning to open and loosen up revealing a child’s lovely fiery red hair and those sweet dark brown eyes as the child began to turn her head.
Sophia had made it.
Succeeded.
Done what she must’ve.
Sophia had ran until a group of slowly moving crowd could be seen far beyond, knowing it could be non other. She had carried on with searching eyes, and found the destination. When she could see Marié in the middle of everyone else now jump from the carriage and momentarily go out of sight, she reached underneath Marvy where the knot tied by old Mrs. Pepper comfortably stayed. She began to loosen the knot until it was only a small pull away from opening, just in time, as Marié leaped the last steps towards them, and Marvy immediately launched herself in the arms of the sobbing mother, horrified relief controlling each muscle over the expression and those wide eyes Sophia had ever seen before. She felt the scarf fall on the ground from around her, the slight cooling sensation of losing an extra layer and weight in the heat offering some much needed alleviation. The loving reunion did not go unnoticed by others, either. A warm reunion in the midst of sorrow and undeniable suppressed chaos forced mournful smiles on their faces.
Sophia felt she had reached the sought finish line. Seeing Marié helplessly squeeze Marvy against her soft curves, finally together, sobbing uncontrollably and those pleading cries of I love you, I’m sorry. Sophia’s mind opted it to be the ultimate goal, and after that, she had nothing. Now, after all the fear and agonizing anxiety of reaching Marié and those many tiresome miles rushing through the forest, not knowing whether she’d actually be able to reach them—Sophia began to feel the last drop of senses leaving the completely used limps. Seeing everything double until crossing together, and before her knees gave out, two men whom happened to be near hoisted her up from beneath the armpits and carried her in the carriage with the lead of Marié whose voice echoed worried. Everything sounded muffled and the surrounding blurred through the last crack of eyelids until Sophia finally gave in and closed them entirely.
As if no time had passed, Sophia could feel relaxed seemingly lying on her back. The warm breeze twirled some loose strands of hair tickling the eyelids, now beginning to twitch from all the lost senses coming back. She heard little Marvy blabber on the background, easing the atmosphere because of course she did. A cold sensation rested on top of Sophia’s forehead as she slowly blinked the eyes open, faced with the lovely curls of Marié’s hair above, head resting over her soft thighs.
’’You’re awake.’’ Marié tried to smile but it appeared as sad, quivering while the eyes filled with tears which now began to drop on Sophia’s coral cheeks. She covered Marié’s eyes with her own hand, wiping away the tears or else she’d break down right there and then. Although mutely begging her to stop, she kept her fingers against Marié’s eyes and let them catch each tear. A silent mutual understanding. Once Marié seemed to calm down, Sophia got up and looked around of all the exhausted betrayed familiar faces. Her gaze came upon Madam Trusé hugging a suitcase most likely containing all her sketches for the upcoming seasons of fashion. Madam Heredina with her layers of silky garment and both of her boyfriends on each side. And lastly, Harry Ohara holding the sleeping Dorothy Ockerland in his arms on a high horse.
’’While you were out, some of them went by a lake nearby.’’ Marié handed a filled bottle, ’’This is from a near stream, flowing down the hill. It is safe to drink.’’ Something about her way of speaking while averting eye contact concerned Sophia.
Marié was sorry.
She felt guilty.
She probably blamed herself for everything they’d gone through, which was not true at all. Who could've predicted such vileness to occur, and if they did, they would’ve obviously done things differently from the very beginning.
’’Thank you.’’ Sophia took a short sip, not wanting to waste more than was necessary, letting the refreshing sensation twirl and regain the moist in her mouth before swallowing. The best thing to do was to act normal. Nothing good would come from trying to convince Marié otherwise. It was Marié’s own internal battle, and one day she’d forgive herself, too. Besides, Marié wasn’t the only one living with such emotions. Who was Sophia to tell her to think otherwise—stop blaming herself and pull herself together when she herself wanted to scream in agony for those truly left behind.
Sophia remembered the crossbody bag which Bill had thrown at her, pressed against beneath Marvy as they escaped. It was lightweight. At first glance seemed empty, until the father's notebook peeked from the bottom, with the unique ink pen still attached.
Grandpa Bill.
All the suppressed emotions came in flooding like a tsunami from an endless ocean. Demanding the utmost from Sophia’s soul to push back and calm down. A wrath of a pounding heart creating an unbreachable stone cold wall. Ultimately she managed, for one more thought and she’d broken down sobbing the eyes out—and then what? Getting Marié and Marvy to safety was still her number one task.
The empty Town’s Hall mostly used for typical public events now hosted a cramped camp for the evacuees. Thin mattresses scattered on the floors and colorless emergency blankets from the large hospital of Lufin offered one per each family. The walls were creamy white and plain, but the ceiling reached high with lovely carved statues of ancient mythological creatures said to watch over Agathen back in the olden days. Those creatures were majestic Centaurs, said to roam the forests of green Agathen many centuries ago. Half-human half-elk with large antlers and huge, powerful frames. They were a mixture of scary and enchanting, Godly even, and many songs and stories in Agathen’s folklore were centered around those beings. Sophia stared up towards their detailed, serious stone faces. For the first time in her life she felt like praying to those folklores. The camp would once again be a temporary solution—just like the cold corridor when she had been a ten year old child.
Marié and Marvy visited the hospital where Derrik and Vivian stayed as soon as they reached the Town of Lufin’s gates. Meanwhile Sophia took care of the preparations in the hall, helping others gather supplies which Lufinian folks rushed to scrape and donate. The news of what had happened in Brifena came as a huge shock.
Late at night, once Marié and Marvy came back from the hospital visit, since it was far too crowded to hold extra visitors over night, the mother and child slept soundly among everyone else sucked from all energy. Except Sophia, who instead could not dare to close the eyes fearful of what'd loom behind the closed curtains.
With a heavy sigh Sophia got up and avoided stepping on anyone while stealthily sneaking outside. Walking through the simple yet marvelously gleaming white path of pillars on each side she reached a garden with a small fountain in the middle. Sophia sat on the edge of the fountain and dipped her bare feet in the cooling water reflecting the loving shimmers of the almost perfectly round moon above, yet not a single star on sight. Summer nights were always filled with light even after later evenings, hiding those beauties for only the moon to enjoy.
Sophia felt the fountain water distract her from all the intrusive midnight thoughts and concentrated on breathing in and out as the overwhelming anxiety sought to overcome her senses yet again. How could she escape this? How could she suppress, win and go on? As her head began to throb, eyes pressed tight beginning to lose the fight, a sound of men having a somewhat heated conversation and their footsteps emerged from the other side of the fountain. Sophia snapped out of it and instead tried to listen.
’’Commander. I presume you do not remember me—’’ A voice of a man said hastily.
’’I do.’’ Another one, the Commander presumably cut him short, ’’Where is Fior?’’
Fior—The name struck Sophia as familiar, fumbling with memories until from the depths of the files she remembered—Rescuer Fior. Could it possibly be the man from that awful day, the man whose actions showed more empathy towards her pity situation than any other would’ve graced. A man whose encounter on her path had been short lived, yet left an impeccable impression. The name itself sparked curiosity enough for Sophia to move slow and behind the decorated statue of the fountain, only enough to hear a bit clearer.
’’Fior is— Commander, are you injured!? There is blood on your shoulder.’’ The other man raised his voice and earned an annoyed click of a tongue from the person he kept referring to as Commander. Sophia peeked from behind and noticed them wearing the dazzling deep emerald green military uniforms, one of them with more gold, more detail, and the dashing military cap which others weren’t high enough on the status to wear.
’’Keep your voice down—’’ The Commander held his shoulder but did not seem to be in too much agony, ’’A simple gun wound is nothing. Lead us somewhere private, this shouldn’t be discussed in the open.’’
The men saluted with a straight back, perfect posture from years of training before they began to disappear in the nearest alleyway.
This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Sophia weighed the saying curiosity killed the cat, but ultimately the curiosity won either way. She found herself wanting to learn the reason why The Royal Military had come to a small town like Lufin, strangely enough, since it must’ve been related to what happened in Brifena. A whole lot of curiosity to be killed, thus she supposed it’d be fine to be a little sneaky.
Sophia began to slowly follow them, keeping an appropriate distance. Moving without shoes helped with the light delicate steps against the streets made of stones. She leaned from behind the wall which she now pressed against and saw the men turn through a thin wooden door, entering a tall building. Sophia looked both ways before going down the empty alleyway with a dead end awaiting. The alleyway was thin and bare, only a couple of barrels to gather rainwater falling from the roof chutes, nearly empty from the days of drought. With the ear pressed against the wooden door, Sophia looked behind her to make sure no one saw, and opened the door ajar. Luckily it didn’t make a sound, as it was always a gamble with old wooden doors. Would they make an immense sound of a clank or would the rusty hinges squeal with a haunted welcome. This one seemed to be rooting for her success.
Sophia immediately came upon stairs going underground in a cellar. She had imagined the stairs going up, or being a backdoor for an apartment, but the underground wasn’t on her bingo card. With a hint of hesitation quickly subsided, she slid through the cranny and quietly closed the door as much as possible. The stone stairs were cold against the bare feet but allowed her to move gracefully, quietly and most importantly—unnoticed. The air felt colder and reached a new peak as soon as she reached halfway down, endowing Sophia with the bliss of feeling slightly more refreshed after struggling through undoubtedly one of the hottest days in the whole entire year. Beneath the stairs she could see a gleam of yellow light from a lantern shining from the other side of the cellar, thus she stopped against the wall by the last stair to lean against, pressing her hands against it on both sides in case she’d have to flee, push some much needed boost for beginning speed and make a run for it. Sophia saw more barrels against the stone cold wall at the back of the cellar, most likely containing potatoes and other root vegetables loving their chilly, dark chamber. Presumably owned by someone fairly wealthy.
’’Any survivors?’’
Sophia’s heart dropped as the silence was broken seemingly out of nowhere. A voice of a young man, cutting through the air inside those cold concrete walls.
’’Not a single breathing soul.’’ A deep, smooth tone of the Commander answered, his voice breathy and oddly comforting, ’’Though it seems some residents had enough time to evacuate. I noticed traces of a rushed escape.’’
’’A group of them has reached here not long ago. Lufin has offered them the Town’s Hall and helped organize supplies and healthcare.’’ Another man explained, ’’Do we know any more than we did a few days ago?’’
Sophia’s ear twitched with curiosity. She had a feeling it might’ve been a mistake to follow, undoubtedly about to witness a conversation which she was not allowed to hear, and could be even punished for her actions of deliberately eavesdropping. But she did not care. Those words of no survivors stabbed her a million times, cruelly reminding of the people she left behind.
’’Caught one but he wouldn't spill. Apparently had some sort of a poison capsule in his mouth. All i know is useless details. They did not attack The Kingdom Capital for obvious reasons, The Southern harbor of Emréla since it is too close to The Capital, Eastern Wrethn for it is against sheltered Berullian trading borders and Northern Delmaer for—needless to say—we have the largest military base and warehouses filled with weaponry. Thus left The Western Brifena as safest, or should I say the only choice.’’ The Commander explained in a soft, deep calm voice.
’’Cowards.’’ Sophia could hear a man scoff ill-manneredly.
’’Or smart enough to know better. That, or this attack was orchestrated for the sole purpose of sending a message.’’ The Commander seemed to breathe in as frustrated as the others although with more grace, ’’I doubt this is all they’ve got, whoever we’re dealing with.’’ It soon became clear to Sophia that the military had scary little to no information of what had occurred, and the thought of it sent Sophia’s mind spiraling. She had hoped for more. She had hoped for clear answers. She would’ve taken Agathen keeping information any day compared to this level of uncertainty.
’’Do you think it has something to do with the recent disappearances?’’ The man with the clear voice wondered, perking Sophia’s interest once again.
’’It needs more investigating to make any sort of connections. We’re missing a larger picture here.’’ Answered the Commander.
’’With that being said, Commander VonGehall. That wound does look nasty. You should check yourself in the hospital.’’
’’Who got you, Sir?’’
’’Did not ask.’’ The Commander had a distinct deep voice yet sounded indifferent to the circumstances he’d found himself in. As if getting shot through the shoulder was somehow an everyday occurrence.
’’Figured that much.’’ The other man answered, ’’But look at those dark, purple veins. That must’ve been one hell of an impact with just one bullet. Never before have I seen anything like that. Why are those lines separating into many from the wound itself? Could it be infected?’’
In that moment, looking down Sophia noticed a blood covered bullet on the edge of the stairs, mixed in a small pool of blood. She slowly lowered down about to pick up the bullet but hesitated just inches from touching it, for it was covered with what seemed like slimy deep purple essence—and she noticed a small cut in the cuticle of her fingernail, thankful she managed to stop herself on time.
Purple veins growing around the wound, thick purple slime— Sophia remembered those descriptions and wasn’t sure if she should be impressed by the said Commander pulling out the bullet by himself mid walking, or the imminent decision whether to show herself now, since judging by their cluelessness her choice could possibly determined whether he lived or not.
And thus Sophia reached inside a small pocket of a simple long tunic she was wearing, tied shut with a belt on the waist. A change of clothes offered by Lufin’s folks to the evacuees, resembling a hospital gown, and pulled out a clean pristine handkerchief also gifted.
”You’re not dealing with a simple gun wound, Sir.’’ Sophia slowly began to step out from the hiding, holding the bullet on the now soiled and stained handkerchief careful not to let the grimy essence touch her skin, ’’Just as i feared. It travels through open wounds.’’ In the dim flickering light of the lantern she saw enough to recognize the wounded man with his white shirt pulled over half undressed, showing the arm and firm chest and the darkened haunted veins branching off of each other already, starting from a blood dripping hole through the right shoulder.
’’Who are you?! Speak before I—’’ One of the four soldiers Sophia heard talk in turns earlier shouted, about to take a step forward when stopped by Commander Ren VonGehall who raised an arm in front of him, preventing the young soldier from approaching Sophia. Very obedient.
Ren wasn’t the type to lower his guard easily, but chances for an enemy to be mad enough to walk out in the open—in a secluded area alone with top trained soldiers ready to be killed in an instant were slim. Still, he looked from underneath the heavy eyelids which then gently softened, but only the faintest way once the stranger came and fully showed herself without the slightest drop of fear in those summer-forest-eyes, twinkling with gold as did her long hair in the flame of their only lighting.
’’Since you went through the trouble eavesdropping, Milady, mind telling me what i'm dealing with?” He said, feeling abnormal for some reason. Was it the fact that he was wounded? Was he about to be hit with the fever of a century and die right there and then? Tongue pressed against the back of his teeth, clenching the jaw. Unexpected. Not like him at all to bask in the un-jeweled charm of a maiden's presence. It took him off guard.
All valid questions yet he solely could not look away.
Ren noticed her wearing the clothes worn by other evacuees, a plain piece of fabric, thus was able to quickly determine her origin. Her golden luscious hair had gentle waves reaching the bottom of the pelvic bones and the slight v-neck of the tunic revealed the delicate skin above the collarbones. Ren couldn’t take his eyes off of her own, round yet hooded with mysterious worry along with the curved eyebrows. Was she perhaps worried for him? A mere stranger to one another. What an intriguing thought, indeed. Her soft, deep pillowy autumn lips seemed to press together for the tiniest moment before separating.
’’Yes.’’ Sophia’s answer was straightforward much for Ren’s liking, ’’I was eavesdropping. And i happen to know that you’ve been poisoned by an essence made out of winter berries.’’ Sophia carefully handed the handkerchief to another soldier beside Commander Ren VonGehall. She had seen his black and white photograph on the newspapers numerous times before—and remembered that particular gaze which always seemed to hide behind a thick wall, yet in her opinion held away the deepest desires.
’’Did you say winter berries? How does anyone make a poison out of winter berries in the middle of summer?’’ The youngest soldier, William Pierce, held his head with both hands.
’’It can be preserved for months. You need an antidote, as soon as possible or it’ll only keep spreading.’’ Sophia crossed her arms and leaned closer, concentrating deeply thus forcing the man to take in all her delicate beauty, enough to make the muscle on his chest jolt from the sudden closed distance, ’’How long has it been? Twenty-four hours?’’
’’You know your poison.” Ren tilted his head, sharp almond eyes taking the sight of her in from another angle.
Sophia’s eyebrows furrowed from unhidden trouble as she straightened her back once more without taking her glare off of his wound, ’’I would say more interested in the cure of such trickery.’’ She had read the chapter about the usage of winter berries countless of times from back to back. Memorized each illustration and level of progression. Winter berries grew from the stems of winter flowers and could bloom through each season, though preferred only grounds where winter stayed longer. She found winter berries interesting, or rather mystical, for their complicated nature. Tasty, sweet purple berries that could take one's life in a painful, faithful waiting game—and beautiful flowers with a hint of crimson mixed in which instead could save from the faith created by non other. Like pitiful soulmates attached, one born to cease anyone who’d devour them and another one to undo the damage already done.
’’Even better.’’ Ren hardly blinked to avoid averting looking into her innocent and serious hazel gaze, ’’The antidote. How is it made?’’ Ren leaned against a table behind him, his legs open and relaxed as he raised the chin showing the thick veins of his neck. Sophia noticed a healed long uneven scar traveling through and ending behind the right ear, a wound enough to kill an unlucky victim, thus proved him to be one of the lucky ones. Could his luck extend? Or was it all used up in this lifeline.
’’It’s fascinating, actually. The cure is made out of the flowers of said berries. The berries are extremely poisonous, but the winter flower contains many natural components to, in a way, suck in the poison and dissolve it! I find it remarkable how—’’ Sophia explained rather excitedly sharing her passionate knowledge from one of her top interests, when suddenly noticing the men’s expressions. Sophia had always been self-aware enough to read the room, thus began hiding the enthusiasm while lowering down her head a little embarrassed. Ren minded not, quite the opposite. Dare one say intrigued.
’’Oh, great. In the middle of summer.’’ William, the young soldier mocked sarcastically and threw his hands in the air with a tendency to show his emotions gestured quite dramatically, ’’You don't happen to have some of those around, have you?’’
’’Unfortunately no. And i am sorry to say this, but that wound is only going to keep spreading the poison through blood until it reaches your heart, liver and brain. Which one the fastest doesn’t change the outcome much.’’ Sophia said with all seriousness, biting the skin of her inner lip and knowing she might as well be right in front of a noble dead man standing, ’’But I’ve read they grow near the Northern Delmaer’s forests with all certainty.’’
’’You are correct— the forest of Agrom. So, how long shall I last?’’ Ren asked while one of the soldiers brought him a clean cloth to wrap the wound beneath and stop the bleeding. His indifference drew Sophia off the railing a little. How could someone be so calm with the news of death approaching, chasing him this very moment.
’’I'd estimate one weeks. Maybe a half more since you’re young and seem— strong.” Sophia answered yet shook her head, letting them know she had no exact knowledge. No one would.
’’Do you happen to know how to prepare said antidote?’’ Ren raised an eyebrow and finished with the precise bondage around his shoulder, crossing through the chest and enjoying her lowered gaze over his body. Ren’s eyes traveled down until he noticed the woman’s bare feet. Scattered beneath them laid many dried sharp twigs of spruces which she was rather dangerously standing on top of. Having those all over a cellar floor was nothing sort of unusual, since Agathenian’s enjoyed making spruce tea and using the tree in many cosmetic products. They’d soak their hair and body in a bath with a few drops of oil made out of spruces, making their skin soft and youthful, thus many preferred warm baths enhanced with the aromatic scent of the tree. Some even used spruce water to wash their face each morning as a beauty treatment.
Sophia hesitated a moment with his question lingering, but eventually offered a gentle nod, ’’I’ve read about the subject, sure. But preparing would—’’
’’Well, then.’’ Ren got up and rolled the injured shoulder back one round, ’’My apologies for doing this, Milady—’’ He was tall, too tall as he hunched down only inches apart from the bewildered Sophia who didn’t have enough time to grasp the situation, reached behind her thighs and with a swift strong pull he hoisted her up over the healthy shoulder and watched the pointy twigs let go and fall from her bare feet. Fortunately looked like she hadn’t been pricked by them yet, ’’You must’ve not noticed, but the floor of this cellar is filled with dried twigs of spruces. Watch it. I need you healthy and well for our long journey ahead. Having your feet hurt before we even begin would be unfortunate.”
”Excuse me?’’ Sophia had shrieked by the sudden gentle force but had no time to feel much embarrassment because of the words he’d spoken, ’’No, I cannot go! I told you what you need, and i am needed here—that should be plenty enough!’’ She couldn’t help but hold fistfuls of his shirt from the upper back, being carried towards the stairs as the soldiers followed behind, sharing confused looks of questions from one and shrugging a silent answer by the other.
’’What could be more important than saving a life?’’ Ren stopped in the middle of the stairs, looking up towards Sophia, his hand placed on the back of her thighs holding strong for she seemed to shiver from the height over him and the stairs. Should she fall down now, it would hurt a lot more than sliding down the hill like she did earlier. Ren made sure for one more time that non of the pointy dry twigs had attached on the bottom of her feet and began to lower her down, slow and with care.
’’People I cannot leave behind.’’ Not again I cannot—Sophia’s thoughts continued silently, ’’Surely those around Sir can read the same instructions I have?’’ She locked eyes with him just as her toes touched the cold surface of the stairs, for a moment their faces only the distance of a thumb and little finger apart. Sophia hadn’t noticed before, but his almond eyes were most certainly the most delicious shade of amber enough to be devoured.
Ren could sense something else on the shoulders of the beautiful stranger. It was in the way those shoulders tensed, the look of worry over others—not oneself. It might’ve been a sense of responsibility which he—if anyone—knew the best how carrying such a heavy load could feel like, ’’My time is short, is it not? You seem more knowledgeable out of all the people I have on hand right now.’’ His tone shifted into something much more tender, ’’I need you, Milady. Besides, I shall reward you. Handsomely.’’
Sophia’s irises twitched from those words. Her mind slipped back to Marié and Marvy soundly sleeping on the thin mattress against each other. She pressed her lips together and let the eyelids hood over the hazel. A quick yet careful consideration after, a mind finally made, ’’Then. I have a request.’’
’’Anything.’’ His answer merely a calm, sure whisper, ’’You have my life on the line.’’
─?~???~?─
