"Astrid, we made it," a low voice said.
When my eyelids fluttered open, light flooded my vision and I squinted. That was when I realized I was on top of a horse that wasn't Obsidian. I recognized it as Lars's, its rich brown coat soft under my hands.
"Do you need my assistance?" Lars questioned, standing beside his horse and looking up at me. He took the reins and began tying them around a branch.
My legs ached a bit, but I shook my head at his offer. He'd transported me all the way here and I did not want to become a burden. "Thank you for looking out for me," I told him, shakily dismounting the saddle. I sort of fell, then straightened up and brushed the dirt and leaves clinging to my gown. That was when I noticed where we were.
Crystal water gently lapped at the pebble-lined shore of the lake. The sunlight glittered on the surface and closer to shore, clusters of countless white flowers floated lazily with the gentle current. I saw that the man named Isak was cupping water in his hands and pouring it over his mare's head to cool her down. The Volthonian stood farther away, knee-deep in the shallows with his back to everyone else. All of his belongings—his hammer, his tattered shirt, his flask—sat in a pile beside his horse on the shore.
Even from this distance, I could see the ugly gash in his skin from the umbra attack. Long, deep claw marks that travelled down from his shoulders. They still appeared fresh.
My, it was a pretty ghastly wound. If there were any umbras around, any other terrible creatures nearby, they'd most certainly smell the blood. With a wound that big, there was no way he could leave it uncovered without something sensing it. He was an injured rabbit in the eyes of the predators lurking about.
Yes, he was a Volthonian, but I could not let him endanger the rest of us. So I stepped out of my shoes and carefully walked across the soft mud, crossed the pebble threshold, and entered the cool water. I held up the bottom of my gown as I trudged farther out, bunching it in my grasp so I could walk more freely. Unfortunately, I could not keep it from getting wet, but it was already beyond ruined.
I'm sorry, Ma.
The closer I got to the Volthonian, the more I grew apprehensive of approaching him. I could not forget that he had tried to murder me. That he saw me as some evil being. Did he still think this after seeing the dead umbra weakening me, drawing out that mysterious smoke from my leg? Everything about that moment was hazy to me, but if I recalled correctly, hadn't he carried me away from that umbra?
He was not far from me when I took another cautious step, the water splashing around me. He glanced over his shoulder then and the option of turning back dissolved. He faced forward again, gathering water in his hands and washing the dirt from his face. "Yes?" he mumbled.
I was not surprised he did not even greet me. Volthonians and their lack of manners.
"I hope I'm not disturbing you," I started, the Aldaian in me secretly hoping I was, at least a little bit. "I just came to offer you something. For your wound."
He dunked his head underwater and combed through his dripping hair with his fingers. He still faced the other way, so I was able to see just how revolting the marks were. "Oh, did you now? Sure seemed like you were sneaking up on me," he muttered.
I knew I shouldn't have come over here. Ungrateful.
"I wasn't," I returned, "I wanted only to help. But if you are declining my offer, then I will leave you alone."
The Volthonian looked back at me, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. "What is your offer?"
It had seemed like a fine idea at first. Now I wasn't so sure. This man—this boy—did not deserve my mother's fabric. She'd sewed this gown for me and it was all I had left of her until I saw her again. If I saw her again. Was I really about to cut off part of this dress for someone as unkind as him?
