“And now it has run off, presumably back home. Dogs have a keen sense for these things. They are survivors. I am sure you do not need to worry about them.”
“I wonder how it got its limp. What if it were attacked by another dog? What if its owners are cruel?” she asked, suddenly fraught with the possibility that the dog had returned to a threatening situation. The color drained from her face, which wasn’t helped by the cold temperature of the air. She shivered without thinking about it, her lips trembling, her hands clasping together. The dress she wore had been sensible for daylight, but she needed more protection.
“You are truly worried about that creature, aren’t you?” Edmund asked, slowly coming closer to her. Loose twigs and leaves cracked beneath the weight of his long strides. He tilted his head and had a curious look upon his face, as though he couldn’t quite believe that someone might care for something other than themselves.
“Are you so heartless that you cannot imagine one might have some compassion?”
“No, I just… It’s rare. And I have always believed that these animals can take care of themselves. I am sure there’s no reason to fret.”
“I would just like to make sure, that’s all.”
“You cannot save every lost creature.”
“I know, but not to try would be cruel. Even if things are impossible, it does not mean we should not strive to achieve them. We might discover a lot about the world and ourselves along the way.”
“For someone who hasn’t truly lived, you speak lofty words, my lady.”
“We simply have different definitions of living. I am sure there are plenty of people who might think that the life you live is hollow.”
Edmund arched an eyebrow. His eyes narrowed slightly. She thought she might finally have struck close to the bone, although it was so hard to tell with him.
“And would you be one of them?”
“Does my opinion matter that much to you?” she asked.
Edmund pursed his lips and exhaled slowly.
“No. I am not a book for you to critique. I am a man, and in the end, my life shall be weighed by the Almighty.”
“And do you believe it will be weighed in the favor of virtue?”
Edmund smirked.
“What would you know of virtue? What would you know of sin? You know nothing, my lady. To you, life is like a painting; to me, I have stepped into it. Have you ever found yourself in strife? Have you ever felt the weight of the world pressing down on your shoulders, ready to crush you?”
“Have you?” she fired back, before the sharp expression on her face faded. With the way he spoke and acted, it was easy to forget that he had indeed experienced sorrow. He was just so carefree and cavalier that it was as though nothing mattered to him. But, having remembered herself swiftly, Rose caught herself.
“Your parents,” she corrected, her words a soft whisper. The light seemed to fade with every moment, darkness being drawn over them like a cloak. The trees obscured the stars, and the shadows stretched over them. One of them hid half of Edmund’s face, making him brood.
“We should return. I wouldn’t want this to cause any unwanted rumors. Imagine the scandal if people spoke about us sneaking away to a hidden copse as the night set in. They might get the wrong idea and think that this is a place for romance.”
“You can talk about them, you know. Your parents,” she said softly.
Edmund turned away, showing his back to her.
“I do not dwell on sad things. I find them most unpleasant. Life is for living, for joy. That is the only thing that concerns me,” he said, although for the first time Rose began to doubt the sincerity of his words.
Perhaps it was for the best that they should leave this place, however. She certainly wouldn’t want any whispers to arise. As she took her second step, she failed to notice a divot in the ground. Her ankle turned, and a sharp pain flared. It only lasted for a moment, but it was enough to interfere with her balance. To steady herself, she reached out.
The only thing within reach was a thorny branch. Because she moved by instinct, she did not think about the risks. As soon as she curled her fingers around it, she felt another jolt of pain in her thumb. She pulled it away and saw a trail of blood flowing from the tip of her thumb. Her cry of pain caught Edmund’s attention, and he came rushing over to her.
She had managed to keep herself from falling, but had not emerged unscathed.
“What happened?” he asked, and immediately saw the wound on her hand. He grabbed her wrist and pulled it toward him, turning her palm up. He gently nudged her thumb away from her hand. The trail of blood trickled like a thin stream along her thumb and dripped down the side of her hand.
“I just caught my thumb. It is nothing serious,” Rose said, blushing and feeling frustrated that she had made such a foolish mistake. “And you are breaking my rule.” She tried to pull her hand away, but he would not let go.
“Would you rather me obey the rules, or tend to your wound? See, this is what happens when you run after lost creatures. You invariably end up getting into trouble yourself.”
