The Hunchback of Notre Dame: Heaven's Light

During These Times~

The good news had not yet reached to the escaped and healing group, of both street performers, survivors and lost and found children. But at the least, their voyage was very quiet, and very slow... of both the carriage and the caravan moving at a steady pace. Just gentle enough for the two slumbering within the safety of the performance caravan.

Their only concern for the present was being able to set foot into Paris before night would fall. There was a possibility that Clopin, Esmeralda and the rest of their men would not be permitted into the city.

Fortunately for them though, the gypsies did know of a secret passage along the west side of the protective city wall that can lead them to the Court of Miracles. Hopefully, they could help the hunchback and the orphans there for a few days. There were forms of medicine that could be performed to help the hunchback's infections, if they should try and spread. Sashes and water alone were not enough to fight off the threatening disease. Most of the gypsies kept both carts well surrounded, in case anything else would happen.

But along with that worry, there going to be a time when they would have to stop for a spell for one other occupant of the found carriage being pulled behind the caravan.

Evrard.

At first his allegiance was purely unknown by most when they came into the northern woods in hiding. It may have been the fact that Evrard just did not trust beggars, alone strangers from the years of uncertainty and he was taking in children lost and alone for many years after his family was assaulted for breaking a certain law of some sort. The rest was entirely unclear and the poor Burrower definitely died along with his story. A lot was not spoken of.

It was better if it was left unsaid, but if Quasimodo was his younger brother, that meant that Evrard's very lost and confused sister and secondary caretaker of the Burrower orphans certainly had a future still.

Quasimodo could not die.

Though meanwhile, inside the moving caravan where it was warmer and even more quiet, Agatha was silently awake as her dearest friend slept on so deeply. She chose to lay beside him, to comfort him and keep him warm. Though she was warned not to because she could catch his fever if he was getting to that stage, but she didn't care. She would get ill in his stead if that should happen.

She loved him that much.

She did not really set a certain goal in her life anyhow. She found someone worth troubling over. That was enough for her.

She did not want to leave his side at all. Not even for a second. He would ultimately stop breathing for any reason...so she had to keep his vitals in check, constantly. She stayed close to him, close enough that she was able to feel his heartbeat. His wounded body rose and fell, very gently, as he breathed and she was able to feel it.

He was remaining strong.

Agatha sighed deeply, having her face aim up at the curved ceiling. She was laying back flatly and she was able to feel his warm breath still. The floor was hard, but he needed the softness much more. After a moment of silence and thought, she felt him shift slowly amidst those pillows. He sighed, but he moaned when his hurts screamed for a moment.

In relief, she sighed and shut her eyes. She waited for a few moments....

"... agatha ... wh-wh-wha-what are you doing in here...?" slowly came his tired, hoarse voice.

"...I am in here for you, you fool." she replied, with a hint of warmth in her voice.

"F-for me...? You... you need not worry about me..." he humbly said, resting his head low again.