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“Yes. You shouldn’t be going out on your own. You don’t know this area well and you could get into trouble.”
“Careful, you may sound like you care.”
“I don’t.”
“So you keep saying, yet you’re standing out her convincing me on why you should go with me.” She studied me for a second before she turned and walked down the stairs.
I huffed and then followed her. “The only reason I’m coming is because I was the last person to see you. If I let you go off and something happened, I would be the one they blame and I don’t need that shit.”
“Got it.” She continued walking without even looking at me.
“So, where are we going?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“No. I need to send a note in the wind and find a purple mangor.”
“Are you mad? Purple mangors don’t exist.”
“They do. They have to.” Her voice held a note of tension in it.
I grabbed her wrist again, this time more gently. I couldn’t help but notice her soft skin under my rough and calloused hands. “What’s going on?”
She looked at me. “I can’t really say.”
“Does this have to do with why you left home or with the nightmares you have at night?”
She pulled her wrist from my hand and continued walking.
“Scarlet!” I sighed, running after her, hating myself every second. I don’t run after people, especially women.
“I think we should go this way.” She pointed to the right and pushed some branches out of the way.
“Off the trail? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She turned around to look at me. “It’ll be-” she screamed and slipped out of view.
“Shit! Scarlet!” I ran to where she was last standing and skidded to a stop and looked down.
“I’m fine.” She said, standing up and dusting herself off. “It was just a tiny hill.”
“That’s a nine or ten-foot drop.”
“I guess you should go back home then.” She continued walking, batting branches and twigs away from her.
She was completely mad. She was wandering through the woods, looking for a bird that didn’t exist. The thought she was mentally unstable never crossed my mind, probably any of our minds. Perhaps that’s why she left and the entire story of being locked up was a lie, or maybe she was locked up for a different reason and somehow escaped.
I skidded down the hill and walked after her.
“Tell me more about your childhood.”
She looked at me and I could tell the question made her nervous.
“Why?”
“Because I want to get to know you.”
