''Who goes there?'' - She calls out - almost a command.
The bushes move around, the eyes watching her retread. A loud crash rises. - he's fallen.
''Dammit!'' - He yells, frustrated. Yet his voice is oddly warm, youthful, almost comforting. It's also the first voice she's heard besides her own since she awoke.
She steps forward, slow and deliberate, to where he is - hidden behind the bushes, between trees, surrounded by overgrown grass.
''Stay back, d-don't 'urt me!'' - He says, hands in the air, lying with his back against the concrete of the wall behind him.
He's dressed all wrong, baggy pants, a leather vest, loose cotton shirt from beneath. They all seem patched, unevenly so. He looks nothing like the Lady, or the Gardener, he's... warm. Even from a distance, she can feel his heartbeat - fast, loud, maybe too loud.
As she takes in his appearance, he suddenly moves - lunging to his feet, blade flashing. A sword she didn't even see in him at all. The tip is at her neck before she realizes he's moved. His hands tremble slightly, but his voice does not.
''Ahal! Ye daft lad'' - He blurts, puffing up as if he's just won something. Then the sword lowers a fraction. ''Wait... Ye're not like 'em, are ye?'' - His voice is relieved, but with a hint of disappointment.
''I do not believe i am, no. And neither are you... Right?'' - Her tone is calm and curious, though it feels like she's reading the right lines from an unfamiliar play.
Up close, he's young. Younger than her, maybe. But more confident. His face carries scattered scars, old cuts that have healed.
''Ah, nay...So why're here lass? Place's haunted, ye know, weird folk wanderin' 'bout, if they catch... Where'd'ye even come from?'' - He lowers the blade almost entirely now, still ready but curious.
''I do not know, I was merely-'' - Her words are cut short by the sound of marching from inside the building.
''Shit! Can't let 'em spot us, Miss, luckily for ye it ain't my first time playing 'round these parts.'' - His eyes flash with urgency. - ''Hope ye can climb alright, hang tight''
He grabs her hand. A flicker of memory runs through her head - she's been held like that before, though she can't recall where, when, or by whom. Before she can linger on it, he pulls her around the corner of the neglected garden.
A rope hangs from a ledge above. Unlike the aged stone and rusted iron of the manor, the rope is new - sturdy, freshly knotted. He must have set it up earlier. Maybe he'd planned for this very moment. A way out, just in case.
He climbs first with practiced ease, battered boots pressing flat against the wall. Halfway up, he glances back at her.
''Oy, Miss, quit daydreamin', dead serious, get in here!'' - And he's right, she wasted quite some time admiring his effortless climb up the rope from the ground. ''Ah, yes...'' - She mutters, shyly, and begins to climb.
The first pull makes her arms tremble. ''Perhaps i cannot do it''. Fear rises in her chest - the same strange feeling she'd had when she opened that door. But she closes her eyes and thinks: ''If he can make it…''
Her small feet scrape for purchase. Halfway up, she looks down. The ground seems farther with every heartbeat. A sudden realization - if she falls, she might not get up.
''Ey, wake up, ye can make'it. Just... don't look down, ye'll be fine.'' - His voice pulls her back, growing louder, closer, until she sees his outstretched arm.
She resumes the climb, each pull harder than the last one, her arms barely have enough strength, she'd forgotten her weak state. The rope works it's way through her skin, her feet struggle to find anything to hold themselves to. But she keeps getting closer to him, until his hand is just an inch away. She extents her hand to reach his, but her other hand slips, a cold air rush by her stomach. ''This is it...?''
At the last second, he catches her wrist, holding tight. She looks up - he's making a ridiculous face, and despite herself, she smiles, first one she'd done so far. With effort and grunts, he hauls her up until she can grab the ledge herself. They collapse side by side on the roof.
''Shite, Miss, ye scared the hell outta me!'' - He puffs, giving her a little punch on the shoulder, a familiar sensation, distant in memory but seemingly near. ''Ah, sorry. I thought... i was going to fall.'' - She means to speak her mind, but the words stall - the view steals her attention.
Behind her, the sun moves lazily toward the horizon. Ahead, a vast forest stretches from end to end, a seemingly endless green, with mountain ranges on the far horizon. The air here is fresh - no rot, no dust, just clean wind.
''Ey, still there, Miss?'' - He waves a hand in front of her eyes. She blinks rapidly.
''Um... Yeah. Believe so. Oh, thank you... For not letting me fall.'' - She replies awkwardly, bringing her hands close to her chest.
He scratches his hair, getting used to her odd behaviour. Only now she takes a real glimpse of his face. It's quite evident how different he is from the others she's encountered so far, his eyes have a strong brown colour, almost fresh. His hair is fluffy, lightly curly, same colour as his eyes, the breeze makes them move in a funny way. Old small scars paint his left cheek.
''Och, no bother... T'was easy enough, ye're too light or i'm too strong... Probably both.'' - He brushes imaginary dust from his shoulders.
She just stares at him, unamused. But noticing he speaks in a funny way.
''So... We've nae met yet, have we? I'm Phi'lip ''Stone'' Bask, Greatest explorer west o' Chambéry. Son o' Seán ''Boulder'' Bask.'' - He offers a hand.
''Stone and Boulder... Odd names...'' - She says, quietly.
''Nay, not names, silly - TITLES.''
She tries to give her own name, but it's not there. Not forgotten - just missing, like a torn-out page.
''I'm... A.'' - She lends her own hands.
''A...? Just A?'' - He shakes her hand firmly.
''Yes, just... A.''
''And ye said Boulder was odd... Ooooh, now i get it. 'Tis a codename!'' - He clears his throat. - ''Well, in that case… I'm Mr. Stone.''
''Glad to make your acquaintance Mr. Stone''
Before she realizes it, she steps back and dips her head - a practiced nod, graceful and light. One foot slides behind the other. Her fingers twitch near her hip, brushing air where layers of a fancier dress should be, with a faint tilt of the chin.
A gesture too smooth to be learned, too old to be new.
That hadn't been on purpose, it was a set of motions engrained in her somehow, like she'd done it a thousand times.
Specks of grey ashes from the wind breeze, landing on her nose, on her hair, on her white dress. She blinks, confused.
He stares at her beat, chuckles and claps. - ''Och, flawless, don' it like a real lady...'' - He observes the grey dust falling upon her face and hair - ''Lady Ashes, got a nice ring to it''
She brushes the ash from her nose, and out of the corner of her eye, she notices a rising cloud of smoke. His gaze follows hers - his expression hardens.
''Ah for feck's sake... that's home, I must be off.'' - His voice is tight, his hands trembling while he looks at the smoke clouds growing bigger and bigger. ''They micht need me. Ye know... To save 'em of course. Ye comin'?''
''I... do not think that i should...'' - Curiosity gnaws at her, but so does fear - new people, new places, and the unknown.
''Got somewhere else to be?'' - He asks, already moving towards the rope on the ledge.
''I don't... But-'' - She stops and glances down at the manor - ''You are right, i do not. I'll go with you.''
''Grand.'' - He looks down from the edge of the rooftop - ''Guess the Guards aren't about, let's get down''
Phi'lip grabs the rope and turns his face to the wall, starting to get down, as flawlessly as he did when climbing up. She follows him, grabbing the rope and slowly climbing down, carefully holding her feet against the wall.
''Don't worry, won't be keekin' under yer dress from here...'' - He says from below, playfully.
''Never crossed my mind you would've.'' - She replies with confidence, yet she blushes, adjusting her dress as she makes her way down.
Right before she makes it to the ground, those marching sounds return. They are loud, synchronised, their armour makes a distinct metallic sound as they rush from inside the manor. The girl gets carried away by the sound and slips from the rope.
Before her mind can process her fall, she finds herself not in the rough ground below, but on his arms, he was ready to catch her if she fell.
''Close one, that was... Again'' - His voice comes from behind her, it sends a shiver down her spine, chills. It feels warm, comforting. She turns to face him and he's making that same funny face from when he grabbed her up from the climb.
She giggles, and moves away from his arms. ''Yes... what a grievous fate might have befallen me, had you not been here... Again. That means you were looking up after all... - She tells him with a smile, playfully.
''Nah, nay! 'Course not. I'd ne'er... Just 'eard ye slippin' and me quick reflexes did the rest, swear it!'' - He gestures in the air while awkwardly trying to convince her.
''If truly you did not, then I thank you. Should you have, however...'' - She moves her hand towards his face - ''Lady Ashes forgives you.'' - And gives him a gently tap on his forehead.
''Huh? Adopted the nickname?'' - Sounds of marching creeps closer as they speak - ''We need to move now, can't get seen by 'em lot''
''You must guide me, i do not know the area...''
''But then how'd ye get in 'ere? Not the easiest place to get yerself into... Either way, tell me later''
He signals for her to follow him, and into the forest they go. It's dense, visibility is very limited, but there's a crude path amidst thee trees, a path Phi'lip carved. The path goes in parallel with the main road, which she can hardly see from where they walk. But she does take a glimpse of it. The road it's old, covered in roots, small plants running through it. Some of the stone bricks are missing, some are turned upright.
The path has signs it has been used often, branches are cut off from the way and the soil is degraded due to trampling.
''This path... Did you carve it, Phillip?''
''Nay, 'twas a friend of mine, he's the one who showed me the manor too.'' - He unconsciously touches the scars in his cheek - ''And me name's Phi'lip, not Phillip.''
''Yes... My mistake, Mr. Stone.''
...
After a few minutes of jogging, the forest thins, tree giving way to taller grass swaying in the wind. Ahead, a river cuts across the land, stretching a dozen or so metres wide, flowing steady, but calmly, from left to right. Two bridges span the water - to their right, the stone road from the manor continues seamlessly, to the left, a crude wooden crossing clings together with planks bound by ropes.
''Pray, why has the bridge fallen?'' - She asks him, pointing towards the stone bridge, though the end points stand, the middle part is missing, only a support column stands still in the middle of the river, beneath where the rest of the bridge was supposed to be. Despite the entire road and what's left of the bridge being old, it suggests it was torn down on purpose.
''Dunno, 'twas already fallen when i first saw'it. We cross by the wood one over there''
''Did that friend of yours also built the new bridge?''
''E' did, aye. But 'twas me that brought him all 'em planks'' - He flexes his right arm, attempting to show her how strong he is, yet his muscles aren't impressive, they exist, it shows he has some training, but he's not as strong as he tries to imply.
They walk to the edge of the river, where two wooden pylons anchor the rope bridge into the soil. Phi'lip goes first, the planks sway with his weight. The planks and the ropes creek, but hold steady.
When she steps onto the boards, her vision tilts. The crossing stretches wider, the current below becomes aggressive, waves striking at the bridge as if to tear it apart. She clutches the ropes with both hands, but her grip begins to fail.
Ashes takes a few steps in, her voice slips out, barely louder than a breath.
''I can't swim.''
Her vision collapses into black, yet the waves keep roaring. But Phi'lip's voice slowly fades, as if it's swallowed by the water.
...