lines of her face, and she might have been an angel, an iceprincess, too lovely for the real world. “It’s really not so bad. A surface wound. You’re a warrior … you’ve been off to the borders?” she asked. “Wait, please, I’m so sorry. You needn’t answer any questions. Let me help you … see if you’ve any other injuries. Can you rise, with my help?”
He looked at her solemnly. “I will definitely need your help.”
“I’m here, and quite strong, actually,” she assured him.
He put his arm around her shoulder. If he staggered as he rose, it would be because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her eyes.
“It’s all right. Honestly. I have you.” She flashed him a smile. He gained his balance, and yet did not want to let her slip from his hold. “Just a few steps … the brook is here. With clear, fresh, water. You must be very thirsty. I haven’t a cup or anything to offer you.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “Thank you.”
At the brook, she helped him down to his knees. He bent over, splashing his face with the water, then drinking it in. It was refreshing, wonderful, cool, bathing away the confusion of the night, even the pain in his head.
No … it wasn’t the water that had done that. The pain had faded, disappeared, the moment he had seen her eyes.
His thirst sated, his head cleared, he sat back by the water’s edge, looking at her, marveling at her, wondering if she wasn’t just an invention of his subconscious mind, a sprite to wake him gently after his fall. But she was there before him, those eyes still so brilliant, still so kind. And her hair! The wealth of it, touched by the sun.
“Thank you so much,” he said.
“If you’re a warrior returning, I can help get you home. Now, you are on one of the bluffs above the valley at the base of the castle at Lendo. Baristo is to the west, and to the northeast, the lands of the great Fiorelli. But you needn’t fear if you are lost at all; I will gladly help you back.”
“I’m not lost,” he said, but then he wondered if he was. Not in place, not here, on these familiar bluffs. But lost in his future, and his purpose.
“What’s your name?” she asked softly.
He started to answer, but hesitated. He didn’t want her to know who he was, not yet at any rate. He was suddenly not at all in a great hurry to get home.
There would be time enough for duty and responsibility when he did arrive.
She leaned forward, touching his head with worry. “You must have struck your head quite hard. I should get you to a physician.”
“No … no, there’s no real harm. I think I just need time.”
“You don’t remember your name?” Thankfully, she didn’t really give him time to answer. “I’ll have to call you something, you know.” She grinned. “You really are quite the warrior, you know, rather handsome. Perhaps, for now, we can just consider you to be Prince Charming.”
“And you, my lady, beyond a doubt, I shall have to call Angel.”
She inclined her head. “I shall accept, thank you. You poor fellow, truly. Any man who risks his life going to the borders … well, you are a prince charming, whatever your name and place may be. Is it terrible there?” she queried.
“We hold our own,” he said.
She leaned against a rock at his side. He heard a sudden cawing sound, and turned to see that there was an outstandingly beautiful
falcon,
not a hundred yards from them. Bandages surrounded the animal’s wing.
“A falcon,” he murmured.
“Yes,” the woman said lightly.
“She’s injured.” He arched a brow to her. “So you seek out all manner of wounded creatures in the hills?” he asked.
His
Angel
walked over to the falcon, gently touching her wing. “Poor thing, such an exquisite creature, and she was hurt by a hunter’s arrow.”
“Why would a hunter seek out a
falcon?”
he asked.
“Some men are simply killers, and they care not what they hunt,” she murmured. “Isn’t she lovely?”
“A
He looked at her solemnly. “I will definitely need your help.”
“I’m here, and quite strong, actually,” she assured him.
He put his arm around her shoulder. If he staggered as he rose, it would be because he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her eyes.
“It’s all right. Honestly. I have you.” She flashed him a smile. He gained his balance, and yet did not want to let her slip from his hold. “Just a few steps … the brook is here. With clear, fresh, water. You must be very thirsty. I haven’t a cup or anything to offer you.”
“It’s all right,” he said. “Thank you.”
At the brook, she helped him down to his knees. He bent over, splashing his face with the water, then drinking it in. It was refreshing, wonderful, cool, bathing away the confusion of the night, even the pain in his head.
No … it wasn’t the water that had done that. The pain had faded, disappeared, the moment he had seen her eyes.
His thirst sated, his head cleared, he sat back by the water’s edge, looking at her, marveling at her, wondering if she wasn’t just an invention of his subconscious mind, a sprite to wake him gently after his fall. But she was there before him, those eyes still so brilliant, still so kind. And her hair! The wealth of it, touched by the sun.
“Thank you so much,” he said.
“If you’re a warrior returning, I can help get you home. Now, you are on one of the bluffs above the valley at the base of the castle at Lendo. Baristo is to the west, and to the northeast, the lands of the great Fiorelli. But you needn’t fear if you are lost at all; I will gladly help you back.”
“I’m not lost,” he said, but then he wondered if he was. Not in place, not here, on these familiar bluffs. But lost in his future, and his purpose.
“What’s your name?” she asked softly.
He started to answer, but hesitated. He didn’t want her to know who he was, not yet at any rate. He was suddenly not at all in a great hurry to get home.
There would be time enough for duty and responsibility when he did arrive.
She leaned forward, touching his head with worry. “You must have struck your head quite hard. I should get you to a physician.”
“No … no, there’s no real harm. I think I just need time.”
“You don’t remember your name?” Thankfully, she didn’t really give him time to answer. “I’ll have to call you something, you know.” She grinned. “You really are quite the warrior, you know, rather handsome. Perhaps, for now, we can just consider you to be Prince Charming.”
“And you, my lady, beyond a doubt, I shall have to call Angel.”
She inclined her head. “I shall accept, thank you. You poor fellow, truly. Any man who risks his life going to the borders … well, you are a prince charming, whatever your name and place may be. Is it terrible there?” she queried.
“We hold our own,” he said.
She leaned against a rock at his side. He heard a sudden cawing sound, and turned to see that there was an outstandingly beautiful
falcon,
not a hundred yards from them. Bandages surrounded the animal’s wing.
“A falcon,” he murmured.
“Yes,” the woman said lightly.
“She’s injured.” He arched a brow to her. “So you seek out all manner of wounded creatures in the hills?” he asked.
His
Angel
walked over to the falcon, gently touching her wing. “Poor thing, such an exquisite creature, and she was hurt by a hunter’s arrow.”
“Why would a hunter seek out a
falcon?”
he asked.
“Some men are simply killers, and they care not what they hunt,” she murmured. “Isn’t she lovely?”
“A
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