Chapter 32
The bullet never hit. Instead, there was a flash of green lightning—so fast, my eyes could barely see it. And before I knew it, Rowan was there, standing before me, and Vince was crumbled on the ground, a gaping wound in his side.
Instantly, Rowan was beside me, checking to make sure I was alright.
"You know, you have the survival instincts of a peanut," He joked, staring at the gun which lay on the floor.
It was the first time I'd seen him panting so hard, as if he'd used up a lot of energy just to make it here in time. "You almost died."
I was not in the mood to joke. In my arms, Edith was dying. "Hang in there," I pleaded, tears welling up in my eyes. "You're gonna be okay, alright? I... I promise," I sobbed, gripping her hands. At the last sentence, my voice broke.
"I'm scared..." Edith said slowly, as blood pooled around the wound. "I... don't want to die."
I gripped her hands. It felt like my whole body was seizing up. No... not here, Edith! You can't die!
Rowan pushed me away. "Truly, the survival instincts of a peanut," He muttered under his breath, quickly ripping the hems of Edith's dress to fashion a bandage.
He grabbed my hands, "Here, apply steady pressure.
" He said this so nonchalantly, as if this wasn't the first time he dealt with such a wound.
He stood. "There's a chance it missed her vital organs, so if she makes it through without losing too much blood, she'll be okay," He said, picking up his bloody sword. "Keep her awake. Yell at her, if you have to. Just don't let her fall asleep," He warned, turning.
I could barely talk, trying to keep myself from sobbing.
"And for God's sake, quit crying, okay?" He knelt down, lifting my chin with his hands and wiping away the tears.
I could feel the hardened callouses on his hands brushing against my skin.
"It's going to be okay. I know it doesn't look like it, but we're winning. Stay here, and I'll handle the rest."
I felt a sudden hopelessness wash over me, as I bit back the tears.
I'm so useless... I thought, biting my lips.
No, now's not the time to despair.
I recalled Rowan's words. I had a job to do—a really important one.
And that was to keep Edith awake and from going into shock.
"Edith, did you hear him? it's going to be ok," I leaned down and offered her a small smile, stroking her hair. I continued to apply pressure to the wound site, hoping to slow the loss of blood. "Hang in there. You're strong, I know you are."
Edith winced. "Rosaria..." she said slowly, biting back the pain. "I'm sleepy..."
Panic filled my gut. Don't let her fall asleep, Rowan's words flashed in my mind. I applied a deeper pressure, causing her to wince again. "S-sorry," I breathed, offering a nervous smile. "Uh, you have siblings right? Tell me about them. What's your favorite memory?"
I was rambling at this point. Edith shifted, then thought for a moment. "I-I can't," She winced.
I gripped her hand. "Yes, you can," I assured her, "Just try."
I heard loud cries and the clang of metal against metal as the battle raged on below us.
There was also a slight whooshing sound, as Rowan made his way around the room, swiftly dispatching enemies.
It's fine, it'll be over soon. I didn't want to let my mind drift to all the people who were already dead.
Father and Julian are safe... I reminded myself.
Edith strained. "Y-yes," she offered. "I-I have five siblings," she said. "My... My parents are just p-poor tenant farmers. I was l-lucky to even get this job," She smiled.
"I bet they are so proud of you."
"Y-yes.... They are..." She smiled slightly, reminiscing. Her eyes fluttered, as if trying to shut but she fought to stay awake.
I thought quickly. "W-whats your favorite memory?" I asked. "Of growing up, I mean."
"My... my favorite memory..." she began weakly.
"Well, it's probably in the fields behind our house..."
___
The clear, blue sky was full of big, white, fluffy clouds and a peaceful breeze floated through the land, gently ruffling the heads of wheat as they waved around in the fields like a big, golden lake.
Every once in a while, three little red and brown-haired heads popped up out of the field, shrieking with laughter as we chased one another with a stick.
"Edith, come here! You can't catch me!" My siblings called after me.
taunting. We raced through the wheat my father had worked so hard to grow, trampling paths where we weren't supposed to, ducking low and bursting up again, breathless and wild.
This year was a bountiful harvest, and we would receive a good reward.
At least, for this fall, maybe we wouldn't have to starve.
We were running down along the edge of the field when something caught my eye. There was a flicker of white beneath the hedgerow. I slowed, then stopped entirely, pushing aside the branches.
In the bushes, there was a small little rabbit. Frail, emaciated. Like its mom had left it, abandoned all alone. I recalled some words my father said, about how bunnies didn't survive long outside the den.
Gently, I scooped it up in my arms, crooning to it. It wriggled slowly, its eyes still closed. "Poor thing..." I tickled its nose gently, and it gestured as if to try nursing. My heart swelled with love. "Aria, James, come look!"
I called out to my siblings. They came running, pushing through the wheat, faces flushed and curious.
"It's going to die," James said bluntly. "Dad said so, rabbits can't live without their mum."
"No, it's not," I shot back, clutching it tighter. "We're going to help it."
We brought the rabbit home to my mother. At first, she was completely inert about the idea. But I begged and pleaded, and eventually, she gave in and let me keep it, making me promise that I had to be the one to take care of it.
Under father's instructions, I bundled it in a warm blanket with hot stones and fed it cow's milk.
He showed me how to feed it properly. "Slowly now, that's it, Edith," he smiled.
I dipped my finger into the bowl of warm milk, and let it drip into the bunny's mouth.
It had an incredible will to live, and stirred slightly.
"There you go," I murmured. "You're alright... you're alright." My siblings poked their heads up, watching intently.
"Dad, is it going to live?" Aria asked.
My father simply smiled. "Well, your sister certainly has the knack for caring for it. Only time will tell."
Eventually, the little white rabbit started to gain strength.It opened its eyes after a few days, bright and alive, and began to make little grunting noises whenever it wanted to nurse. Mother pointed out how it seemed to have a special bond to me, which made my siblings jealous.
"How come it only likes you!" James pouted. "It never wants to play with me!"
"Who is the one who spent hours feeding and caring for it, hm?" My mom smiled. She tousled his hair fondly with one hand, holding the swaddled newborn baby Reina in the other.
Just like the wheat, the rabbit grew strong and healthy. I named him Timothy. I don't remember why. Only that it felt right.
Eventually, as the fields ripened and were harvested, it came time to let him go. "We can't keep him inside forever," My father told me, as he tried to console me. "He's meant for the wild."
But I knew it was the right thing to do—we had to let him go, and he would start his own family.
So one morning, with a heavy heart, I carried Timothy out to the woods beyond our home. I set him down gently among the trees, my hands lingering just a moment in his soft fur.
"You'll be alright," I whispered, squatting down and giving him a small, childish "peck" on the forehead. Then I turned and walked away.
I cried the whole way home.
But the next morning, when I opened the door, there was a little white rabbit at our doorstep. Somehow, he'd found his way home.
I tried three more times to bring him back to the forest, but each time, he returned to me. So, I kept him.
Timothy's coat stayed white all year round. Grandmother always said it was lucky to find a white rabbit, and that if one chose to bond with you, you would have good fortune all your life.
I didn't know about fortune. We still had hard winters, hungry times. But, through it all, Timothy remained with me. And now, when I wake up before dawn, to scrape ash boxes or scrub floors, I think about that summer. About golden fields waving in the wind, about laughing with my siblings...
And a tiny, fragile thing that should have died, but didn't. And how, for reasons I'll never quite understand, he chose to come back to me.
Edith finished her story, a fond gaze replacing the strained look of pain that was once on her face.
For a moment, it looked like the pain was forgotten, the fight had ceased, and it was just the two of us, laying on a grassy hilltop, with the wind blowing through our hair, and wheat fields swaying in the wind.
"That's beautiful, Edith," I said, tears welling in my eyes.
"When... When I left to come work here at the manor, I had to leave him at home. But I always look forward to seeing him. When I go home," She looked up, smiling. "My lucky rabbit."
"And you will see him again," I promised.
The sound of the fighting faded away. And suddenly, I realized, the fight really had ceased.
It was eerily quiet. And then, as I strained to listen, I heard the sound of cheers.
Hope rose in my chest, along with a deep dread.
I didn't want to even think about how many were dead.
Edith lay there on my lap, straining a little. I held her in my arms, stroking her hair. "You've done well," I said, tears welling in my eyes as my voice was breaking. As the fight ended, and the enemies were subdued, she was pulled away from my arms to have her wounds treated.
We'd suffered massive losses, though we'd come out victorious. Over half of those left were wounded, and many were dead. And it's... all my fault....