The Cliff

SEVENTEEN

When he got up, he was shocked to find himself semi-naked and sleeping next to her; Ruth, he was laying his hands all over her neck.

He then got out of bed wordlessly and covered himself. A little after, she gradually opened her eyes and began to smile.

"Did you get enough rest?" She inquired, her voice drowsy.

"Did we...?" He then spoke shamefully.

"Uh! We just chatted, so don't worry."

"Did I give you permission to enter?"

"What do you mean?"

"Because I've never let anyone in before."

"You did."

He eventually said the word he was most frightened to say after a long silence. "You are welcome to stay the night"

"Sorry, I just have these vague memories from time to time"

“Tell me! Did you see anything new?"

"Get ready and come into the living room... come on, lazy girl."

She finally appeared after a few minutes, as he was setting the plates on the table, she stood half-visible and gave him the same glance. She then took a seat next to him, cautiously.

"To whom is the picture in that room?" She murmured with relief. It was as if she had been harboring that question inside her and it had now spilled out.

"What did you do to it?" He sprung to his feet and dashed into the room.

"I didn't do anything... I simply stared at it," she replied, puzzled.

"Did you touch it? Maybe?" With his eyes closed and his head bowed to the ground, he said.

"Yes! Just a brush... that's all."

"Aamon, where have you gone?" From outside the room, someone whispered

Ruth swooped down on Aamon, scared shitless. "Don't say anything!" He gave her an order. "It's just someone I know; he won't hurt you; I'm the one he's looking for."

His sweet old father was standing over there, clutching the dagger and as he approached, Aamon roused frightened...