Chapter Ten
“What’s going on here?” Daniel’s posture was rigid as he stepped closer, his hand resting near his belt where his knife was sheathed. When the man didn’t speak initially, Daniel stepped forward. “I think it’s best you leave.”
Daniel’s voice was cold, firm, and left no room for argument. The man stood still for a moment, the cocky grin slipping from his face as he looked between Daniel and Edith. The rifle on his shoulder suddenly seemed less like a threat and more like a burden as he shifted his weight.
For a brief second, Edith held her breath, unsure of what the man would do. She could see the calculation in his eyes, the way he weighed his options. But Daniel didn’t budge, his posture rigid and unyielding, his dark eyes fixed on the stranger with an intensity that left no room for games.
The man licked his lips, finally lowering his gaze. “All right, all right, no need to get all riled up,” he muttered, raising his hands slightly as if to placate Daniel. “I’m goin’.”
With a final glance at Edith, the man turned on his heel and started walking back into the woods. The trees seemed to swallow him up, his footsteps fading until the only sound left was the rustle of leaves in the wind.
Daniel didn’t move until the man was completely out of sight, his hand hovering near his belt where his knife was strapped. Only when the forest was silent again did he turn to Edith, his gaze softening as he looked her over.
“You all right?” he asked, his voice quieter now, his brow furrowed with concern.
Edith swallowed hard, the fear still making her chest tight. She gave a shaky nod, though she didn’t trust her voice just yet. Her hands trembled, and she clasped them together to stop the shaking. She didn’t want to seem weak in front of Daniel, not after everything he’d already done for her.
But he wasn’t fooled. Daniel’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer, as if he could see right through her nod of assurance.
“Let’s get back to the house,” he said gently, tilting his head toward the path.
Edith nodded again, grateful for the suggestion.
The thought of being back in the cabin, with solid walls around her, was a comfort she didn’t realize she needed until now.
The forest, which had felt so peaceful earlier, now seemed darker, filled with shadows that might hold danger.
She couldn’t shake the feeling that the man might come back.
The man even told her that Daniel couldn’t protect her forever.
What if he waited, watching for when Daniel was gone again?
As they walked side by side down the trail, Daniel kept a watchful eye on their surroundings, his presence reassuring.
Edith tried to calm her racing heart, her mind still reeling from the encounter.
She had been so close to real danger again, the kind that she had hoped was behind her now that she was away from her father.
Her steps quickened, eager to reach the safety of the cabin, but the fear that had crept into her bones wouldn’t fully release its grip. Daniel glanced at her once more, his expression unreadable, and Edith wondered if he sensed her lingering anxiety.
They said nothing as they made their way back, the tension still hanging in the air between them. Edith clutched Daniel’s coat tighter around her shoulders, the warmth from it seeping into her, reminding her that, at least for now, she wasn’t alone.
The cabin came into view through the trees, and Edith let out a small sigh of relief. It wasn’t much, but it was hers—for now. A place where no one could touch her, no one could make her feel like she was being hunted.
***
Later that afternoon, Daniel pushed the door open and stepped into the cabin, the warmth of the small fire in the hearth welcoming him.
The soft scrape of the broom moving across the wooden floor caught his attention.
Edith stood near the kitchen, her back to him as she swept the floor with slow, deliberate motions.
For a moment, Daniel just watched her, the way she moved, focused on the task.
She was trying so hard, pushing herself past her obvious exhaustion, and a small part of him ached to see it.
She was determined, that much was clear, but there was a fragility in her too—something that made him wonder just how much she had endured.
Not wanting to disturb her, Daniel moved quietly, but his boots scuffed against the floor, the sound breaking the silence. Edith jumped, and the broom slipped from her hands, clattering to the ground. She spun around, her eyes wide with fear.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Daniel said quickly, stepping forward to pick up the broom. He bent down and handed it back to her, his eyes softening when he saw her trembling hands.
Edith hesitated for a moment before taking the broom from him, her fingers brushing against his as she did.
She flinched slightly at the contact, her hands shaking as she tried to grip the handle.
Daniel instinctively reached out to steady her hand, but as soon as he did, Edith pulled back, her whole body tense, eyes flickering with a flash of fear.
Daniel froze, his heart sinking as he realized how deeply rooted her fear was. Whatever she had been through, it had left her wary, jumpy at the slightest touch. He pulled his hand back slowly, not wanting to frighten her more.
“It’s okay,” he said softly, his voice calm and reassuring. “It’s just a broom.”
Edith’s breathing was shallow, but she gave a small nod, her fingers tightening around the broom handle. Her eyes met his, but for a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence stretching between them.
Finally, Edith broke the quiet, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why... why are you so good to me?” Her eyes searched his face, as if trying to make sense of his kindness, something she clearly wasn’t used to. “You don’t even know me.”
Daniel let out a slow breath, not sure how to explain it all in a way that would make sense to her. He looked away for a moment, his gaze falling to the floor before he met her eyes again.
“You remind me of someone,” he said quietly. “Someone I lost a long time ago.”
Edith blinked, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.
Daniel hesitated, the memory of his sister flashing in his mind—her laughter, her spirit, and then the pain of losing her.
“And… I believe in helping others,” he added, his voice growing softer. “God teaches us to look out for one another, to be kind. It’s the least I can do.”
Edith’s lips parted slightly, and she looked down at the broom in her hands. His words seemed to hang in the air, and Daniel wondered if they had reached her, if she could understand that not everyone in the world was looking to hurt her.
For a long moment, she didn’t say anything. But then she gave a small, tentative nod.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice so soft that Daniel barely heard her.
He offered her a small, reassuring smile, though he wasn’t sure if she could trust it yet. “You don’t have to thank me,” he said gently. “Just take it one day at a time.”
“I made supper,” Edith offered, turning back to the stove. “Should be ‘bout ready. Hope it’s all right.”
“Should be great,” Daniel assured her, reaching for bowls. He helped Edith set the table and serve up the meal, then sat down with her.
Daniel watched Edith across the small wooden table as they ate in silence.
The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering light across the cabin’s walls, but the warmth of the room seemed to have little effect on her.
She was distant, her movements slow and deliberate.
Something was on her mind. He could see it in the way her fingers absently tugged at her sleeve, her eyes downcast, as though she was retreating into herself.
He set his spoon down, the metal clinking softly against the bowl, and leaned back in his chair.
Edith’s eyes flickered up at the sound, but only for a moment before she dropped her gaze again.
Whatever was bothering her had been building all evening, and it wasn’t hard to tell she was holding something back.
“You all right?” Daniel asked, his voice quiet but firm. He didn’t want to push her, but he needed to know what was weighing her down.
Edith hesitated as she set her fork down. For a long moment, she didn’t speak, her fingers tracing the edge of the table. When she finally looked up, her expression was guarded, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.
“I... tore my dress earlier,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And... I don’t have another.”
Daniel blinked, a wave of guilt rising in his chest. He hadn’t even thought about it—hadn’t realized she didn’t have anything with her but the clothes on her back.
He cursed himself silently for being so careless.
He had been so focused on keeping her safe, on getting her away from her father, that he hadn’t considered the small, everyday things she might need.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, filled with regret. “I should’ve thought about that. I didn’t even realize...”
Edith shook her head quickly, as if she didn’t want him to feel guilty. “It’s not your fault,” she murmured. “I just... I was wondering if maybe... we could go back to my father’s cabin. Just to get some of my things.”
Daniel frowned, the idea unsettling him immediately. Taking her back there was the last thing he wanted to do. His grip tightened slightly around the edge of the table as he imagined her walking through that door again, reliving whatever horrors had unfolded in that house.
“Do you really want to go back there?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “After everything that happened?” He paused, trying to think of a better solution. “We can buy you some new dresses. There’s no need to go back.”
Edith didn’t respond right away. She seemed to wrestle with herself for a moment, her hands tightening around the fabric of her torn dress. Daniel could see that it wasn’t just the clothes she was worried about—there was something else, something she hadn’t mentioned yet.
“It’s not just the dresses,” she admitted finally, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear it. She lowered her gaze again, her fingers twisting in her lap. “There’s something I left behind... something I need.”
Daniel’s brow furrowed as he watched her. He didn’t press her for details, but the way she said it, the way her voice wavered, told him enough. Whatever it was, it held meaning for her—something more than just material belongings. Something she wasn’t ready to talk about, not yet.
He let out a slow breath, weighing his options.
The last thing he wanted was to take her back to that place, but he also knew how important this was to her.
There was a determination in her voice, a quiet plea for him to understand.
And he did. He understood far too well the power of something left behind.
“All right,” Daniel said finally, his voice steady. “We’ll go back.”
Edith’s eyes snapped up to his, surprise flickering across her face. She hadn’t expected him to agree so easily. He gave her a small, reassuring nod, trying to ease her fear. “But you won’t have to go in alone,” he added, his gaze softening. “I’ll be right there with you.”
She looked at him for a long moment, and in that silence, Daniel could see the hesitation in her eyes.
She wasn’t just asking for things she had left behind—this was about something deeper.
He could feel it in the way she held herself, in the way her shoulders relaxed ever so slightly when he agreed.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the words heavy with meaning.
“We’ll leave in the morning,” he said softly, leaning back in his chair.
Daniel nodded again, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
He didn’t know what haunted her so much from that place, but he understood the need to reclaim something.
He had lost things, too, things he could never get back.
If he could help Edith face whatever shadows were waiting for her in that cabin, then he would do it, even if it meant going back to where the nightmare had begun.