12
I gripped her hands, clenching her fingers in mine with excitement, hopeful plans swimming through my mind. They settled in my brain matter, those daydreams. Francesca and I, Isabel by our sides.
“Me, you, and Isabel… perfect,” she agreed, loosening her fingers from mine and stepping towards a tree. She drew a carving knife from her breast, twisting the blade, pressing a fingertip to the edge with inquisitiveness.
“Have you spoken to her lately?” I ask, a nervous tingle alighting in the nape of my neck, goose flesh beginning to spread down my arms as I watched her play with the blade.
“Who, Isa?” she asked, stilling, cocking her head.
“Yes, Isa,” I laughed. “I thought maybe you’d seen her in the woods when she’s coming from her lessons, you must have crossed paths on occasion.”
“Oh yes, we cross paths often, actually. She’s so grown up now, walking out here by herself. She’s filling out her dresses well, too.” She winked, turning to a nearby tree, pressing the blade to its rough bark and slicing with savage insistence.
“Ew, don’t talk about her like that!” I chided, laughing.
“I just mean,” Francesca said, turning to me with her eyes rolling. “She might want to be careful now she’s a woman. There’s hungry men who roam these woods, Heather.”
“I know. I’ll be sure to tell her to be careful,” I replied softly, drawing a breath and holding it as I pressed memories back into the depth of my mind. Yet the feelings lingered, that unbidden heat that swarmed my torso when I thought of it.
“Maybe I should talk to her, given my experience.”
She continued pressing the blade into the tree, carving away slice after slice.
“What experience?” I questioned, though I knew. I’d seen it. Watched it.
“Just,” she sighed darkly, and I wasn’t sure if it were a wistful response, or something sad and regretful. “Fending off those eyes, you know. I can just teach her what to do if someone approaches her, the way I did for you.”
She smiled as I moved closer, a softness gleaming in the apples of her cheeks.
I pressed my hand to her back, her heartbeat thudding beneath my palm as her scent filled my senses again.
The rush of it made me dizzy and hungry, my hand mindlessly trailing her spine with a wanting I’d not meant to express.
My hand dropped with haste as she raised a brow at me, my mouth drying, my ears heating.
“No, you’re right.” I admitted, stepping to her side, eyeing what she was carving into the tree. “You should talk to her, thank you Frannie. I can always count on you to protect Isa and I.”
Then I saw it, the carved edges seeping tree sap as though bleeding – the pentagram.
“I will always protect the ones I love, little Rabbit.”