A hush cloaked the abandoned cabin, broken only by the soft crackling of firewood. The wind howled through the cracks in the wooden walls, but inside, a fragile warmth settled between two strangers.
Fiona stared down at her hands, clenched them briefly, then reached for the water pouch. Without a word, she offered it to the man lying beside the fire.
"Here. Drink some more. You need your strength."
Julian glanced at her, then took the pouch. His fingers brushed hers, and Fiona flinched just slightly before pulling away. She said nothing, only sat a little closer and tilted her head, studying him.
"Who are you? How did you end up like this?"
A pause. Julian's jaw tightened.
"I'm just... a royal cavalryman. Returning from the battlefield."
Fiona narrowed her eyes. "Cavalry? My brother's a cavalryman too. Maybe you know him?"
Julian let out a low chuckle, eyes flicking toward her.
"There are thousands in the royal cavalry. What makes you think I'd know your brother, foolish girl?"
Fiona huffed. "I'm not foolish! And from the looks of your uniform... you're no ordinary soldier."
Julian didn't answer. He leaned back against the wooden wall, eyelids lowering as if the conversation bored him.
Fiona frowned, then sighed quietly.
She didn't know why she'd dragged this half-dead stranger into her shelter. But now that she had, she couldn't just abandon him.
Julian lay still, but his breathing began to grow labored. Fiona, rinsing out a wooden bowl, froze dark blood had begun seeping through his bandages.
"Hey...! You're bleeding again!" she cried.
Julian winced but didn't open his eyes. His wound had torn open again, likely from the strain.
Panic sparked in Fiona's chest. She looked around desperately but there were no clean cloths, no bandages, not even a spare rag.
Without hesitation, she grabbed the hem of her skirt and tore off a strip of fabric.
Riiip!
Her hands shook as she wrapped the torn cloth around the wound, tying it as tightly as she could.
"Don't you dare die on me," she muttered, her voice trembling.
Julian cracked one eye open and smirked weakly. "Already panicking? I'm not dying... not yet."
Fiona scowled. "You'd better not! If you do, how am I supposed to explain this to my family?"
Julian raised an eyebrow. "Explain what?"
"That I dragged some half-dead man into our home and let him die on me. Sounds tragic, don't you think?"
Julian blinked. Then sighed. How did I end up in the hands of this absurd girl?
Fiona adjusted the makeshift bandage, muttering as she tried to even it out. Julian hissed in pain, and she instinctively blew a puff of air over the wound.
Julian stared at her. "Do you really think blowing on it helps?"
"It works on my little brother. He always stops crying."
A dry laugh escaped his throat. "You're hopeless."
But oddly enough... the pain did seem to ease, if only a little.
Fiona leaned back and inspected the bandage with a satisfied nod. "There. If you keep bleeding, I'll run out of clothes."
Julian didn't reply. His eyes were already drifting shut again, the flickering firelight dancing across his pale face.
Fiona curled up near the hearth, hugging her knees. Sleep tugged at her, heavy and warm.
Just before she dozed off, she murmured:
"If you die, I won't forgive you."
Julian, eyes still closed, muttered back: "I'd be dead. What would you do?"
"I'll drag your soul back and yell at you... So just don't die, okay? Life's precious. You have to treasure it."
Julian's brow twitched. No one had ever said such things to him before.
He turned his head slightly. In the glow of the fire, her face looked peaceful. Naive, yes... but strangely earnest.
He closed his eyes. And slept.
Morning.
Sunlight trickled through the cracks of the cabin. Fiona stirred, rubbed her eyes, then turned to Julian.
He was still asleep but far too pale.
She reached out and touched his forehead.
Burning.
"Oh no you've got a fever!"
She jumped to her feet, scanning the cabin. Nothing useful just burnt logs and soot.
"I have to find medicine!"
With one last glance at him, she rushed out, heart pounding. She had no idea what herbs to look for but she had to try.
Back inside, Julian groaned as pain lanced through his side. He blinked open groggy eyes. Sunlight streamed in from the broken window.
Fiona was gone.
The silence felt... wrong.
"Where did that foolish girl run off to?" he muttered, trying to sit up. His body protested, but he forced himself to look around.
That's when he saw the message, scribbled in charcoal on the wall:
"Went to get medicine for you! Don't die. I'll be back soon!"
Julian stared at the note. Then shook his head.
That idiot...
He exhaled slowly, but his moment of quiet was shattered—by a sound.
Hoofbeats. Metal. Soldiers.
His eyes narrowed. Enemy scouts?
Damn it.
He forced himself upright. Pain screamed through him, but he gritted his teeth. He grabbed his sword and stumbled toward the door.
Elsewhere...
Fiona crouched by the roadside, examining a patch of weeds she hoped were healing herbs.
"Stay where you are!"
A harsh voice barked behind her. She froze.
Several soldiers were approaching armor gleaming, swords drawn.
Before she could speak, one of them grabbed her arm roughly.
"This one looks suspicious."
"Wasn't she the girl from last night? The one who ran off with that man?"
Fiona's pulse pounded. "I...I'm not with the enemy! I was just looking for medicine!"
"Medicine?" A soldier sneered, grabbing her chin. "Where's your injury, girl? Or are you playing nursemaid to some rebel in hiding?"
Fiona tried to pull back, but they were too strong. One of them twisted her arm behind her, and she cried out.
Another drew his blade, pressing cold steel to her throat.
"Speak. Where is he?"
Fiona trembled. If she told them they'd kill Julian.
"I... I don't know. I'm alone," she whispered.
"Lies." The soldier pressed the blade harder. "Let's take her back to camp. We'll make her talk."
(To be continued...)