Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the only daughter of the wealthy mayor, is merely a young woman who wants to live life one adventure at a time. But when a man dressed in all black actually grants her that wish, she's torn on whether to explore the world wit...
"A life with trust is a life with the thrill of chances, but a life without trust will always be uncertain."
— Forbidden Fruits
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CHAPTER FOURTEEN
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"Ever heard of the myth behind tumbleweeds?"
Marinette furrowed a brow at that. "I can't say I have."
Chat Noir leaned back atop Plagg, seeming relaxed. The pain in his ribs seemed to have subsided (mostly) as the hours stretched on. His thigh was wrapped in bandages still, which would need to be changed every several hours. As for riding on his horse without any help, he seemed to be perfectly capable of doing so even without his saddle.
But... he was sent to ride in the center of the circle until they were out of bear country, and of course, wherever he went, she went also.
He lazily held his reigns in one gloved hand as they rode. "Some folks call 'em the Russian thistles 'cause they were found in 'contaminated' feed through trade, just as they say Russians stowed away in ships for a new life in the west."
"Is that actually true?"
"Which part?" He had an amused smile on his lips. "The contaminated feed or the stowaway Russians?"
"Both."
"The feed part is true. The Russians stowin' away is hearsay."
"Just as I suspected."
He chuckled, revealing his pearly whites. "But that's the reason why most folks out in these parts are weary of tumbleweeds. You should keep that in mind when we reach the next town."
Instantly, she leaned over ever-so-slightly towards him on her horse, her eyes holding nothing but curiosity as she asked, "Why?"
He couldn't help but chuckle softly at her genuine curiosity. In fact, he found it to be incredibly attractive. This is what he had hoped for, after all. For Marinette to perhaps see his point of view. If she could do that, perhaps there was a chance she could eventually love him.
Woah... love? Baby steps. She barely considered him as a friend.
But at least he could say progress had been made. Marinette seemed to be past the general stage of hatred for him and she seemed to be more herself; more open and conversational with him as well. He liked this side of her. He liked talking to her.
"Well..." he cleared his throat as he considered his answer. "It's 'cause they call it Tumbleweed Valley. Ain't nobody who's ever visited fancies trustin' the people who live there."
And, of course, he was speaking from experience. The last time he visited Tumbleweed Valley was with his parents. He didn't even remember how old he was at the time. All he remembered were the bloody crooks on every corner, sneering at an outlawed family with children. He always figured it was because they didn't think his parents could do their jobs correctly with two kids in their arms.
