Dawn found me the next morning in the fields, cheerfully watering the two plots of pink turnips I had purchased and planted the day before. Though they were still only seeds in the ground, I knew that they would soon grown into tiny, delicate sprouts, and eventually, into mature turnips that I could pick and sell.

I put my watering can down, surveying the area with a smile. Sure, it was only eighteen spots of darkened land, seeds hidden deep in the fertile earth, but the sight still made me happy. Soon, the eighteen sprouts would poke out of the ground, and the money would come in. Those eighteen crops were the beginning of my profit as a farmer.

I picked up my watering can, checking my rucksack to make sure I still had my grasses, and then headed off towards the Trieste Forest, broadsword in hand. It was still early, only seven-thirty, so the Pumpkin General Store wasn't open.

As I trotted along the path, I stared around at the cherry blossoms. As odd as it sounded, I loved cherry blossoms. They were quite beautiful. My farm had constant cherry blossoms blowing around, and I loved it.

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground. I blinked, and looked over, realizing, with chagrin, that Dorothy was also on the ground. I then understood that I had walked right into her.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dorothy! I wasn't paying attention to where I was going!" I jumped to my feet, and offered her a hand to help her up.

She took it hesitantly, and I helped her up. She stared at the ground as she answered me. "I-It's…um…no…no problem…"

I then realized I was still holding her hand, a little too tightly. Stammering apologies, I let go, my face burning. Her own cheeks seemed a little pink, too. She turned her face away.

When I went to stare at the ground, seeing it as my only way to not stare at her, I realized there was blood dripping off my hand. Glancing at the hand I had been holding, I saw that her whole palm was scarlet, as was her right knee, the gash covered in dirt and rocks.

"Oh, Goddess! I'm sorry, Dorothy! Here, come with me. I'll clean up your cuts." I reached for her hand, but she recoiled away from me.

"N-no…I…I'm…it's…no…um…Bye!"

As she turned to run, I seized her arm. The simple touch sent what felt jolts of electricity running through me. Dorothy's whole face was crimson with embarrassment, and she half-heartedly tried to tug away.

"Don't be stupid. Those cuts will get infected. It was my fault, so I have to fix it. Come on." I half-dragged her towards my house. She put up some resistance, trying to tug free, but, as we got closer, she gave in, following me meekly.

Once we were in the house, I led her straight to my table, turning the chair out so she could sit down. She did so timidly. Instead of looking around the house, she looked at the floor.

"Y-you…you…have a…nice…house…" She whispered.

Amazed that she knew this even though she hadn't appeared to even glance around, I smiled. "Thank-you, Dorothy."

While she stared at her knees, I opened my shelf. I knew I had some medication; I had stocked up pretty good my second day, in case I was injured working, or while in the forest.

Ah. There you are. Pulling the ointment, and a roll of cloth for bandages, I returned to Dorothy. I decided to work on her knee first, as Dorothy was already flustered enough that I didn't want to take her hand right then. I was as careful as I could be as I gently smeared on the ointment, but she still winced.

"Cripes, I'm sorry, Dorothy. I really should pay more attention to where I'm going…"

Dorothy didn't answer, and I said nothing more as I carefully bandaged her knee. But when I reached for her hand uncertainly, she pulled away. I stared at the ground, feeling a little hurt and confused until I felt her hand pat my shoulder, her touch feather-soft. My head snapped up, and I felt like I would have met her eyes, if her hair hadn't been protecting them.

"P-Please…don't…don't trouble yourself…on…o-on my account."

I smiled at her. "Don't worry about it. Now, let me clean your hand." I didn't reach for it this time. Instead, I waited until she held it out. I pretended not to notice that it was trembling as I took it carefully, and applied the ointment.

When her hand was cleaned and bandaged, I leaned back, and examined my work for a moment. It was well done, if I did say so myself, and I was pleased that Dorothy wouldn't suffer from infection on my account.

When I was satisfied, I stood up, and took a few steps back. "Well, there you are. Now, you can go on to whatever you were planning on doing before I rudely knocked you down."

She got to her feet slowly, and nodded once, barely a jerk of her head. "Yes…I...ah…um…well…" She seemed to not be able to finish her sentence, and suddenly blurted: "Thanks!" before fleeing out the door.

I stood and stared at the closed door for a long time, unable to move. All I could think about was the feeling of her hand on my shoulder before I shook my head, and went to mop up the blood that had dripped onto the floor.

~*~

I hurried home as fast as I could, but I was forced to limp because of my knee. I knew I was late; before I had collided with Kyle, I had been sent by my father to get him some milk. Now, I clutched the triangle carton, but I still knew that Kyle's insistence on cleaning my wounds had set me back on time.

I slowed when I reached the chapel doors. I paused for a moment to recompose myself, drawing in a deep breath, and then pushed the doors open. I rushed up the aisle, trying to disguise my limp, though I was sure it was still evident in my stride.

Gordon was waiting at the end of the aisle, standing by the alter. The room was empty besides him, which scared me. My father would not hold back his wrath if we were alone.

As soon as he saw me, Gordon whirled, back-handing me to the ground. The milk carton smashed as soon as it hit the ground, the flimsy cardboard tearing, splashing me with milk as I fell to the floor.

"You insolent child! Where have you been?! I specifically told you to be here at nine-fifteen, fifteen minutes after I sent you out for milk! It only takes fifteen minutes to walk to the store, buy some milk, and be back! It's ten-o-five! Where have you been?!"

The whole speech was a roar. I prayed someone didn't hear me. I didn't want my father to get in trouble, even if he yelled at me, belittled me, and pretending I didn't exist most of the time.

I slowly got to my feet, sucking in my breath sharply when my hand and knee throbbed. "I-I'm…sorry…"

"Foolish child! First you are late, and now you have let my milk spill!" My father's hand smashed into my cheek once more, throwing me to the floor again. The back of my head cracked against the stone floor. My ears rung. I saw stars.

I stared up at my father, who stood above me, breathing like a winded rhinoceros. I knew what came next. I was on the ground now, and dizzy from the last blow. I was weaker, more vulnerable than usual.

Now came the beating.

But as Gordon stepped forward to deliver the first strike, there was a loud knock at the chapel doors. My head jerked up in surprise, and Gordon's snapped towards the doors. Scowling, he stepped away from me, smoothing his robes.

"Get up, you clumsy child. Come in!" He raised his voice so whoever was outside could hear him. I thanked the Gods and Goddesses above that they had spared me.

The doors creaked open, and someone stepped in. I could hear their footsteps, but I didn't look away from my father. I was afraid to.

Because I was looking at my father, I saw his face break into a warm, welcoming smile. I knew it was forced, but it looked genuine.

"Ah, Kyle! Great to see you! What brings you here?"

My heart stuttered to a stop, and then picked up in pace. Kyle? Oh, cripes! What would he think if he saw me?! I closed my eyes, and prayed for a moment that he wouldn't notice me. Slowly, I began to drag myself away, inch by inch, keeping one eye on Gordon, the other on Kyle.

Kyle was carrying a bundle, and, judging by the shape, it held bottles. He smiled at my father, but his didn't look as real as Gordon's. "I came to drop these off to Dorothy. Natalie asked me to bring them."

Natalie? It must have been medicine. My heart skipped a beat. If they were for me, he would most certainly want to give them to me himself. I cursed when I realized the bandage on my knee had been ripped away, and the blood was gushing from the wound. Not to mention the blood I could taste in my mouth, the blossoming bruise I could feel on my cheekbone, and the milk that had been spilled all over me.

Gordon held out his hands for the package. "Ah, thank-you. I'm sure Dorothy will be glad to get them. Now, I'll give them to her when she gets back."

Instead of handing over the package, Kyle held it a bit closer. "I'd like to give them to her myself, if you don't mind. She fell earlier, and I forgot to give her the ointment to apply to it every day so it doesn't get infected…"

I recognized the steely glint in my father's eyes. Years of practice granted me the ability to see it. It appeared harmless enough, but I knew it was a dangerous smile.

Gods curse you, Kyle! Leave now!

"Dorothy is out right now. I will make sure they are delivered to her safe and sound." Gordon's tone was firm and forced.

"I'll find her, if you don't mind," Kyle replied, almost defiantly, "Where is she, anyways?" His eyes darted around the room, and then his whole body froze when he saw me, lying on the ground, covered in blood and milk.