The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Heaven's Light

Don't Leave Me!

Everything was so confusing in her eyes during the long, frightening climb up. Her arm hurt so much that she didn't dare move too much. Petrified by the height, she could only keep her face pressed against this person's broad shoulder as he climbed over onto firm stone. Dizzy and tired from the trials she went through, her eyes began to close.

The girl he spared began to shake and he tightened his hold around her. Amazingly, she had fallen asleep in his hold. Being as gentle as can be, he made his way to his loft. The 'Goyles watched the bellringer return with the small child safe and resting in one arm as he slowly walked into the loft.

"My, my....won't you look at that?" Victor mused, watching the Bell ringer return.

"She doesn't look too well." Laverne worried. "That poor little dear...."

"Now, this is something we don't see every day." Hugo whispered.

"Bless our boy's heart." the elder gargoyle sighed.

Because of the slumbering visitor, the three could only watch on as Quasi brought the girl into the silent loft. Gently, he placed her down upon his own lounge, gravely worried of how hurt she was. He took a long match and lit the two candles upon the discarded statue. Then he took a bit of cloth, applied water to it and knelt down beside her to tend to her cut arm. Laverne peered out from a corner and smiled almost tearfully at him as he began to wrap the girl's thin arm after cleansing it. As he bound it, Quasi's eyes were filled with pure compassion. Who would dare harm her was what deeply baffled him. As she lied there, asleep, he sat vigil. He was afraid of leaving her alone.

"Wha – what am I to do?" he worriedly asked himself. "I... I – I could not leave her...like that...."

*
Not much was clear about the gypsy population. There was a great mystery about them and their whereabouts. Paris lacked in her population since the threats began pouring in. Finally making it to the border of Paris, where Notre Dame could be seen completely. From afar, Johnathan Kristoff rode up to a deserted graveyard with tombstones so ancient that they were crumbling like snow. When John pulled on his reins, four men jumped up out of nowhere and surrounded the student soldier and his horse.

"What do we have here?" exclaimed one, prodding the horse with a pitch fork.

"A spy of those curs, no doubt."

"For your information," John spoke, independently. "I have brought news from Captain Sir Pheobus of the Royal Guard. I have to issue it to La Esmeralda. I'm sure you lot are affiliated with her."

"You think yourself proud, boy? We're not fools!"

Kristoff showed a hint of decent curiosity at the remark, but after some persuasion they allowed him to enter the spare entrance to the secretive Court of Miracles.

"He's moving them out?" gasped Esmeralda after reading the scrolled up piece of parchment.

She fearfully gazed up at the guilty young soldier, whose shoulders were tensed from giving such unfortunate news.

"I'm sorry, my lady. The brigands have moved further into France. There's no telling of where they might turn up next. The Captain's heading them off the best he can."

As he said this, young John dared not to look the gypsy woman in the eyes. "I'm very sorry." he whispered.

Esmeralda shook her head in disbelief as she placed a firm, protective hand upon her lower stomach in anguish. Then she looked at the soldier once more. This time with a trace of sheer horror.