“No?” she said.
“We got lost,” he said.
“Oh, they’ll never believe that. You and I have been running all over these hills since we were children.”
“I was trying to run away, and you tried to stop me,” he said. “You got hurt, and I had to bring you back. Simple enough.”
“But why were we gone overnight?” she said. “Why did we go so far? Why wouldn’t I have turned back?”
“You think they can determine when this happened?” He gestured to her ankle.
“What about the food we took? They’ll have realized it was missing—”
“I took it for myself.”
She shook her head at him, her expression fierce. “No. They will punish you.”
“Better me than you, little fair elf.”
“No, no, but it is not your fault, it is partly my fault, and if I could have just gotten on the train—”
“I pushed for it. It was my idea. And it was a stupid idea, Aerhril. We both see that now. It wasn’t well thought out. It was all about my vanity, not about anything practical.”
“Not vanity,” she said, reaching up to touch his skin, her voice soft. “No, not that.”
“We both know I am not enough for you,” he said.
“That… no,” she said.
“We have had it illustrated,” he said. “Just now. When you are entrusted to me, what do I do? I cannot manage anything. I couldn’t get you on the train. I did not protect our belongings. I got you hurt. I was mad to think I could be worthy of—”
“Stop that,” she said.
“Perhaps I deserve punishment,” he said.
“Never say that.” Her lower lip was trembling. There was a long silence. “I am going to get up and walk very soon.”
“Aerhril—”
“It is not that bad. I but twisted it,” she said, though the last words came out as a sob.
He bent down to kiss her forehead.
She clutched him.
Later, when he was carrying her as they started back in the direction of the Peak, she winced against his chest as every movement jostled her ankle, but she said, “We’ll try again.”
They would not try again. He knew it was all pointless now.
She continued, “We have some idea of the trials of it now, and we know better what we are up against. We’ll make a better plan next time. We’ll come up with better ideas and better solutions. It will work next time.”
“Yes, little fair elf,” he said, out of breath, because he was tired and hungry and was bearing all of her weight. “Next time, it will work.”
They never got a horse, but he knew that he had to get her back to the Peak that day, that they could not afford another night out here, so he pushed himself to carry her all the way back, even though she began to protest that she could walk.
They did try it once.
She could not walk.
