Always Be Appreciative of Opposable Thumbs

Chapter Twenty-Two: Cabbage is Love

 Hugo's eyes were fixed on the tower. That tall, menacing tower surrounded by jewel-filled water and guarded by a drunk lake serpent.

The tower where Willow was trapped.

There was an ache in his throat as he thought about her in there, injured and bleeding. What was she thinking? Was she afraid? Was she in pain? Was she crying?

He shook his head. No. Willow wasn't like that. She was not the type to huddle in the corner and lament her situation. She was strong. She was brave. She was clever. She would be fine.

A sharp pain shot through his chest, and he squeezed his eyes shut. But would he be fine? She didn't need him to reassure and coddle her, but it would have made him feel better. To be able to help her in some small way instead of sitting on the shore completely useless. If he could just see her and know that she was all right . . .

Footsteps approached from behind, but he didn't bother to look up. Lana sat beside him and set down a bag filled with all sorts of food and supplies and—was that an ornamental egg? It didn't matter. He couldn't tear his gaze away from that tower.

"Hugo, I am so sorry," Lana said softly.

He didn't respond.

"This is all my fault. If I hadn't told you about Fallon, none of this would have happened. I'm so sorry. But believe me when I say that I will not spare a single effort in rescuing Willow."

Hugo shook his head. "It's not your fault."

"But it is. The only reason you got involved with this—"

"Lana." He turned to face her and was surprised to see tears in her eyes. His expression softened. "I volunteered to help. You didn't coerce me into it. And Willow . . ."

He trailed off, not knowing how to finish that thought without giving away Willow's secret. He glanced back at the tower, and the ache returned.

"We all wanted to help," he said at last. "Don't blame yourself."

There was a long pause. "Will you come back to the castle at least?" Lana asked.

Shaking his head again, he shifted his position to alleviate the cramp that had developed in his leg. "No. I won't leave her."

She picked at the grass. "You're awfully attached to her. I've never seen someone so devoted to their pet."

"Willow is not a pet."

"Right. Sorry. Friend. I forgot." She glanced at him shyly. "It's just a little unusual to meet someone who considers a goose a friend."

Letting out a sigh, Hugo closed his eyes. "It's a complicated story. But it's not exactly my story to tell. At least, not mine alone."

She swallowed and nodded her understanding. Still, she wouldn't meet his gaze, keeping her eyes on the pieces of grass she was weaving into braids.

"What's all this?" Hugo asked, nodding at the bag she had brought with her.

"Just some supplies. I didn't want you to go hungry or get cold, so I brought whatever I could think of."

He shuffled through it, and the first item he picked up was a jar of pickled cabbage. He stared at it for a long moment. Of all the things in that bag, he somehow managed to find the pickled cabbage.

Cabbage.

Something snapped inside of him. Whether it was from the absurdity of the pickled cabbage or the anxiety of Willow being trapped, he didn't know. Maybe it was both. But something snapped. He began to laugh. And it wasn't a chuckle or a guffaw. He laughed hysterically. Uncontrollably. Maniacally, even. He had to drop the jar and clutch his sides, he was laughing so hard. Tears began to leak from his eyes, although at that point he wasn't sure if he wept because of Willow or because of the cabbage.