Everyone froze.
Tristan watched as the three men took notice of the patch on his right sleeve, hesitated, then ran away.
When the villains had disappeared into the trees to the south, Tristan lowered his bow and looked over at the girl.
Her bow was now drawn on him.
He sighed.
“Do you really plan to kill me?” he asked. “Even after I just saved your life?”
“What do you want?” The girl’s eyes were hard.
He could see her arm shaking and, at first, thought it was due to the strain of her bow. But then he realized her whole body was shaking.
It was a slight shake, barely noticeable, but there nonetheless.
The girl was scared.
“I want nothing of you.” Tristan put his arrow away.
“Then why did you follow me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then why are you here?” Her pale blue eyes were accusing.
Tristan lifted his hands. “I was hunting when I heard you gasp.”
She narrowed her eyes.
“I swear.” Tristan waited patiently, looking her over. Her dark hair fell almost to her elbows and framed her face. She was beautiful. Her dress was more tattered than before. But her face had grown even more stunning in the few months since they had first met.
Something inside him twitched at the thought that, had he not been in the forest today, she might be dead. Or worse.
Tristan waited with his palms outstretched.
She slowly lowered her bow, but kept her eyes on him.
He lowered his hands. “Why are you so suspicious of me?”
She began putting her weapon away. “Suspicion keeps me alive.”
He watched as she gathered her cloak around her body and tucked her hair into the hood she pulled from her back. The sun was beginning to set and soon the forest would be black.
“Good day, hunter.” She backed away from him.
He stepped over to where his horse stood and retrieved the reigns. “May I take you home?” he asked.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because my home is the only safe place I know and I’d rather not bring a thief there.”
Tristan smiled. “I am no thief.”
She shrugged. “No matter. I still do not need a chaperone.” She turned to leave and Tristan felt something akin to panic kick in his gut.
He might not ever see her again.
He grasped for an excuse to keep her near him. “Are you sure you want to venture through the dark woods at night? Alone?”
Fear was not the most gentlemanly of tactics, but Tristan was desperate for her company.
Why? He had no idea.
She paused, her cloak swinging to a halt, then slowly turned back around and met his eyes. “I am not afraid of the dark.”
Tristan smirked. “If I had to guess, I’d say you are not afraid of very much.” He stepped forward. “But I am here, with a horse, offering to take you home under my protection.” He hurriedly added, “Which I know you do not need. But I’m hoping you’ll accept.”
An owl hooted in the twilight and another flock of birds ascended into the purple sky.
The girl’s eyes shifted around the forest. “Fine,” she conceded with a sharp look. “But if you try anything, I will stab you in the thigh.”
He didn’t doubt it.
Biting back a smile, Tristan said, “Fair enough.” He mounted his horse, trotted over to her, and held out a hand.
She looked at his hand like he was offering her a poisonous snake.
Cleary, she was not used to trusting others.
He waited patiently.
A moment passed and she slipped her hand inside his palm. He hoisted her up and waited until she was settled behind him.
She didn’t put her hands on him or balance herself against him in anyway. She scooted herself as far back on the saddle as she could. Tristan tried not to be offended by this as he looked back at her.
“What is your name?” he asked.
“What do you care?” she fired back.
“Must everything be so difficult with you?”
“Yes.”
He shrugged. “I guess I can call you ‘thief’ if you’d like. Or ‘girl’.”
She didn’t respond.
He faced forward and smiled to himself. He liked the girl thief, whatever her name was.
Nudging his horse, he started leading them through the trees.
“Scarlet,” came a small voice behind him. A voice that sounded more like a girl’s and less like a thief’s. “My name is Scarlet.”
Tristan didn’t turn around. “Scarlet,” he repeated. A smile spread across his face. “It suits your temperament.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Tristan asked, “Would you like to know my name?”
“Not really,” she responded.
He smiled again. “Very well. Where to, Scarlet?”
“To the east, just past the valley.”
Tristan nodded and led his horse in the direction of her home. They were silent for a long while, only owls and crickets sounding into the night. With the sun gone, the forest was now filled with shadows and creatures of the night. All of which stayed hidden.
Scarlet had yet to touch him at all, her body poised upright and distant behind him as they wove through the trees.
He wondered about her home, what it would look like. Because he delivered food to the outer villages, Tristan was familiar with the lifestyles of the poor. Would Scarlet’s home be rickety and overrun with insects? Would her roof be broken and weak?
It seemed unfair that he had been born into wealth and had never known a day of hunger or discomfort, while others were born into poverty and struggled all their lives. Maybe that was why Tristan chose to feed the hungry villagers. Maybe he wanted to make the world more fair. Maybe he felt guilty for all he had.
“Your clothes are fine.” Tristan felt Scarlet briefly touch his sleeve.