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CHAPTER FOUR
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ONE COULD CALL IT 'FATE'
ENOLA HAD SLEPT LIKE A LOG.
As soon as she was within the comforting presence of Theodosia Fairfax, sleep came to her easily. She had never been the one to surrender to her land of dreams soundly, but with the rise and fall of Theodosia's breaths next to her, it was like a white noise that worked all too well. Now that the daylight had arrived, for the first time in what felt like forever, Enola had had a restful sleep.
Enola pulled herself up from the chunk of wood she's had slept on (surprisingly her back wasn't too nastily affected). For just a moment, she had a sweet moment of silence by herself.
She could examine every part of Theodosia's face, from her deep dimples that appeared whenever she smiled in her sleep, her blonde hair that had fallen out of its elaborate twist slightly, and her closed eyelids with eyelashes that fluttered subconsciously while she was still sleeping.
Enola was feeling something strange, something strange indeed.
She switched her gaze towards the pile of Theodosia's slightly torn gloves. Since they would simply not meet again— at least for a very long time, she saw no issue in scooping up one of the gloves and tucking it into her pocket.
Now, she could still have a piece of Theodosia, even when they parted ways.
THEODOSIA AWOKE WITH AN ACHING BACK. She had fallen asleep one on the logs—— the one that they and Enola had talked on the night before. The very memory made her heart flutter. She heaved herself up, attempting to ease the knots in their back and neck, and looked to her left. Enola was already up and was trying to wake up Tewkesbury, a notoriously heavy sleeper who drooled.
The bright golden sun blinded her eyes, and her ears were serenaded by the hoarse cries of, "It's so early!" From Tewksbury.
A lovely first thing to hear when you wake—— complaining.
"We need to get a lift on the first sheep wagon to London," Enola told them, already awake and well despite it being so early in the morning.
"A sheep wagon?" Theodosia repeated in disbelief, "Aren't those for..well, sheep?"
Enola didn't respond, which most likely was a silent way of saying, 'We're going, whether you like it or not.'
Theodosia groaned to themselves, now they were the one complaining. Their back was killing them, and her hair was messy, could the day get any worse?
Yes. It could.
Clad in the same heavy, lilac dress from the day before, and the neatest hair she could pull together when one does not have a mirror, Theodosia was practically dragged along the path towards the city. Not much talking was going on, so Theodosia took to listening to the noises around her instead.
