Anthony watched the gentle rise and fall of Joanna's chest as she slept. Her eyelids were so pale and translucent he could almost see the color of her dark eyes as they moved, following her dreams. He remembered with a pain what she had said to him the previous night; that she had never had dreams, only nightmares.
I'll change that, he thought, reaching down to clench Joanna's fragile hand in his strong one. She was so cold, and he felt a stab of anger for Judge Turpin and his cruelty. Joanna flinched, almost as if his thoughts had traveled to her through their hands, and her breaths quickened.
"Oh, Joanna," he whispered, and then he began
to sing softly to her sleeping form. "I feel you, Joanna," he
sang, his voice soft and strong, and he grinned as Joanna's
breathing slowed and a small smile formed on her pale lips. "I feel
you."
He squeezed her cold fingers tightly, and then turned to
gaze out of the window of their coach. They were still traveling
along a cobbled road, but they had left the desolate city far behind.
All Anthony could see of it was the dark smoky ash that lingered in
the sky like permanent rain clouds.
With a jolt he remembered Mr. Todd's song, from when they had first arrived in London. And he realized he had been naïve in thinking that London would be any different than anywhere else he had ever been. The only thing good about the hole in the world like a great black pit was Joanna, and even she had been tainted by the city's corrupt evil.
Anthony's dark thoughts were interrupted by a small sigh. He turned to Joanna and smiled softly at her. She blinked sleepily, lifting up the hand not held in his to her face to rub her eyes.
"Good morning," Anthony mumbled, still awed at the sight of the beautiful Joanna. Her yellow hair glinted in the slanted sunlight that shone through the open window.
"Where are we, Anthony?" her fragile, small voice seemed to fill the wagon with a bird's song.
I'm not sure, he thought, but answered instead, "Away, Joanna. Safe." She nodded and stuffed bits of her long hair that had fallen out during her sleep back under her cap. She was still dressed as a man; she still looked like a young boy, which was just as they'd intended.
"I'm glad you're with me, Anthony," she said, and he had to strain to hear her thin voice over the rumblings of the wagon's wheels. He resisted the urge to grin and once again squeezed her hand.
"Everything will be alright, I'll stay by you, I'll hold you tight," he sang to her, and for the first time her dark eyes looked up at him with hope.