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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟏 - 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩

We walked down the silent path together, side by side. Pierre seemed tense as his hands closed onto the hilt of a sword he brought along with him. I find myself unable to keep my stares away from his odd demeanour. He seems cold and guarded but definitely in a better mood than Nicholas.

His raven curly hair, his ivory, light yellow-peach skin, glimmer under the rays of the ever-so-generous sun. The rays followed us with each step we took, providing me with a sense of comfort.

I cleared my throat when we stopped abruptly in front of a two-way path, earning his attention in doing so.

"Did you think that we'll be attacked when we're out here, Pierre?" I asked. "Is that what the sword was for?"

Hearing my voice, he seems to be a bit taken aback. His shoulder tensed as he took a few steps away from me. His jaw quivered but had made no effort to open up, leaving my question floating aimlessly in the air. He must have thought that our trip would be a quiet one. One where we don't need to converse among ourselves and merely focus on getting what we came for.

After a few moments of silence, I dropped my head low and looked away from him. Seems like he still doesn't want to talk to me.

Did I irritate him that much?

We took the path to the right and marched onwards. His head held high and his stride careful as he took in our surroundings.

"We can never be too careful wherever we go."–—I heard him say—"The witch might have already been captured and soon be punished for her crimes. But that is just one person. We never know what else lies ahead in the woods."

Finding his excuse to be nothing but reasonable, I nodded my head, completely understanding his wariness. There's no knowing what else we could have stumbled into as we dive deeper. There might be other witches or werewolves like Bernard. Who knows.

Pierre placed the back of his hand on his eyes in an attempt to hide them from the blinding bright sun. The rays hit his palm making it turn pale yellow as his feet shuffled deeper into the woods.

Personally, I don't like the silence.

I hated it.

It's scratching my throat for some odd reason.

The only sound I could hear was one made by the howling breeze floating through the forest, the sound of forest animals chattering away and the sound of the broken dried leaves and branches under our feet.

I sighed once again, at the bizarre situation, at our awkwardness, at the question that kept poking into my head. I stared at him, opened my mouth to ask him that very question that's been bugging me since the moment we entered the woods and fell into our deafening silence.

"Will you forgive me?"

The moment it reached his ears, he stared at me as if I had gone mad, asking him such a question, "Addie, I was never mad at you. I just thought you wouldn't want me around after everything that you said."

"After everything I've said?"

"During your little outburst, you sounded so broken saying that I have little faith in you when you were telling me nothing but the truth."

"I–I was hurt, that's all. The fact that you think so little of me, to the point that you'd think I was trying to lie to you." I paused, staring down at the ground as I blink back hurtful tears. "Hearing it from you out of all people makes it more upsetting than it already is."

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