Giver42

We danced through several songs, each one blending into the next as I kept my trembling hands on her shoulders and avoided her gaze. She giggled when I missed a step, I smiled when she leaned in closer, so close I could feel her breaths on the left side of my face.

Despite knowing I would never see her again once dawn approached, I swore I was in love with her—or at the very least, the idea of her.

"Would you care to walk with me?" she asked as the slower melodies ended and the musicians took to a song with a faster tempo.

I nodded and allowed her to lace her fingers with mine as I followed her off to the side. My hand was still unbearably clammy, my nerves so distraught I couldn't keep myself from trembling.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

She shrugged and weaved her way through the crowd. Willingly I followed a step behind, led by her smile and sweet scent, calmed and comforted by how different the world seemed on this night.

"There," I said, pointing at the stable. "So I may visit a friend."

She eyed me curiously. "You have a friend in the stable?"

"A donkey," I answered proudly.

She threw back her head and laughed. "Honestly?"

My pace slowed and I pulled my hand from hers, suddenly aware of how absurd I must have sounded. I stood at a distance, my gaze lowered. I had hesitated too long to make my words into a jest, and the longer I stood in silence, the more foolish I became.

Just when I thought the world had changed, I bitterly realized it would always be the same. I was destined to stand at a distance whether I blended within a crowd or not. The mask would never hide my true, uncertain self. There was no way to hide my ineptness when it came to conversation or my lack of friendships.

No, the word would not change and neither would I.

"What is the name of your friend?" she asked.

Her question mocked me and I grit my teeth. "Her name is Moon," I grumbled.

"May I meet her?" Amelie questioned.

I shot her an angry look, but she merely smiled back and tilted her head to the side. It took me a moment to search her face and know she was serious; she wished to meet Moon.

"Why would you want to meet her?" I challenged.

She shrugged. "My feet hurt from dancing," she answered casually.

I nodded, unsure of what to make of her request, afraid she deceived me. She had charmed me with her smile, hypnotized me with her laugh and soft touch. At first I had wanted to protest but now I allowed her to guide me through the night.

We entered the stable and walked down the row of horse stalls toward the back where a short, wooden fence contained Moon. It was darker than the rest of the stable, but just as quiet and peaceful. With a bucket of fresh water and trough mostly empty, I knew she had enjoyed her night as much as I had.

"Careful," I warned. "She will bite strangers," I lied.

Amelie seemed undeterred. She walked slowly toward Moon and spoke softly, attempting to tame the beast in the same manner she had tamed and earned the trust of an invisible boy.

Once she managed to pat the side of Moon's neck with no fuss or protest from the donkey, Amelie smiled. "She's very sweet. I think she likes me."

I regarded the two of them for a moment and considered Moon's fate. Taking a breath, I climbed onto the wooden pen and sat with my arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

"My uncle," I started, pausing once I realized my mistake. I licked my lips. "He gave her to my father and me several weeks ago, but we cannot take her much farther."

Amelie gave a sympathetic nod.

"Would you care for her until I return?" I asked hopefully.

Her eyes brightened. "I would have to ask my brother," she answered. "But I would be honored."

I nodded, hopeful of the situation. Within Amelie's care, Moon would be content. There would be no need to worry if she was whipped or beaten or sold for meat. When I reached Paris, I could ask my cousin to send for Moon.

"Will you ask your brother tonight?" I questioned, anxious to have a place for her.

She shook her head. "He is due back in the morning," she answered. I noticed her hesitate, but I remained quiet and unusually patient. "He sold some of my father's belongings to a man in a traveling fair," she said, bowing her head. "And mother's jewelry. He had to walk a town over to see if he would buy all she could spare."

Her words concerned me. I assumed her father had died or perhaps abandoned her family, which angered me. Even though it had only been a few hours, I felt drawn to Amelie and her mother. They were kind and accepting of strangers. Her mother had taken great pleasure in stuffing me full of pie while Amelie had forced me from my shell.

I wanted no harm to come to them.

"Why did she sell her jewelry?" I asked, even though I knew it was none of my business.

Amelie shrugged, her eyes glassy and voice weak when she answered. "I would rather not say."

With a nod, I left it at that. In silence she climbed up beside me and gripped the fence with both hands. I stared at her knuckles and slowly unfolded my arms, placing my hand beside hers.

I longed to touch her one last time, to offer a moment of comfort despite having no idea what I should do or what to say. Suffering had come to me because I deserved it, but Amelie appeared so beautiful and innocent. I feared I would only further hurt her in my feeble attempt to help.

The longer we sat there, the more I doubted myself. Whatever had happened to her father, she would find no solace in my presence. She deserved more than I could offer.

Moon swished her tail and Amelie startled. She threw her hands up, which made me jump as well. I gasped and watched her legs shoot straight out as she fell backwards into the straw with a muffled shriek.

When I twisted and looked back at her, she lay with her arms over her head, her mouth agape, and eyes wide open.

Panic filled me, choked the words from my throat. I knew I should have raced away to find help or search for her pulse, but I froze.

"Are you…dead?" I asked when she didn't move. My voice emerged as a whisper, my question absurd. I hadn't the sense to question her with greater urgency, mostly because I had never been on this side of an urgent situation. If I had fallen off the fence, my father would have laughed or hit me for my stupidity, he certainly would have never considered helping me up.

My God, I thought to myself, I had somehow managed to harm her—kill her—without even laying a hand on her.

Her gaze flitted to mine, her parted lips forming an easy smile. All at once her body began to shake and she squeezed her eyes shut. Concern still rattled through me and I started to leap over the small fence and drag her back to her mother.

"No," she managed to squeak. At first I thought she was in tears, but then the unexpected happened—she began to laugh. It was not a dainty, feminine laugh, but a hearty sound that made it impossible for her to catch her breath. "No, I'm not dead. I thought she was going to kick me, though."

She reached up to me and, once I was certain she hadn't injured herself, I laughed as well. I pulled her to her feet as she continued to chuckle and eventually wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Oh, if you had seen your expression," she said once she could breathe. She made a face, but her fit of laughter continued.

"Mine?" I asked incredulously.

Within seconds, her uncontrolled giggles became infectious and both of us could barely catch our breath.

We stood on opposite sides of the stall, Amelie still ankle deep in straw, me beside Moon, who snorted in disgust of our antics. "I'm not the one who fell," I pointed out.

"You looked as though you would fall over as well," she said, still attempting to contain herself. "You were terribly concerned."

Once I was certain she was not injured, I sighed and chuckled. The feelings churning within me were light and welcomed, the weavings of a new life in a dark fabric.

"Concerned," I argued. I leaned over the fence and smirked. "Not terribly concerned."

"Oh, of course," she said with another laugh as she leaned against the fence separating us. "I cannot believe you thought I died," she giggled. "You must think I am a very fragile girl."

"Beautiful," I corrected as I reached out and pulled a piece of straw from her hair.

We both paused. Her features straightened and she stared at me, her gaze drawn to my lips, her body leaning forward. My hand lingered inches from her shoulder, but suddenly I was too afraid to touch her.

"Truly?" she asked.

Unable to speak, I nodded.

My heart stuttered as we stood there in the meager light, the sound of laughter and music in the distance. I swallowed and studied her lips, wanting to know what it would feel like to kiss her, but too paralyzed by doubt and insecurity to lean forward.

Within this wild, surreal moment, I had forgotten how much I had once craved my own mother's affection, how many times I had wanted to chase her down and beg her to love me.

But this moment, filled with an erratic heartbeat and trembling hands, had come without an ounce of begging. She stood before me without being asked. She looked at me because she didn't know better.

I closed my eyes, hoping instinct would take over or she would give me direction. Unfortunately, I had no instinct when it came to such instances.

"Erik," she said softly, her breathy whisper enough to make me shiver.

I barely heard her over my desperate, pleading heart pounding so hard against my ribs I thought I would pass out.

"Erik!" a man shouted.

My eyes popped open. Amelie and I both jumped away from one another as though we had nearly been caught in the midst of a grave conspiracy.

She immediately turned away from me and straightened her hair while I smoothed my hands down my pant legs and sucked in a breath. My insides felt knotted, a part of me I hadn't realized existed seemed neglected.

"Erik!"

I recognized my uncle's voice and craned my neck until I saw him striding toward me. "Here!" I called.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he approached.

"Visiting Moon," I replied innocently enough. My hands shook, palms damp with perspiration.

My uncle turned his attention to Amelie, whose face was still flushed. He looked her over, his hands on his hips and brow furrowed. "And you as well?"

"Your son asked if I would keep her for him," she answered. She reached out and gave Moon a pat on the neck. "I think she's absolutely lovely."

My uncle appeared skeptical, but nodded still and motioned us out of the stable. "It's not polite to steal a pretty girl away," he said. His tone was playful, but his eyes were stern.

"He never stole me," Amelie said quickly. "I asked him to follow."

Uncle Alak sighed and told her we would be out in a moment. She started out of the stable, but paused and looked back at me, concern in her gaze. How quickly we had formed a bond, both of us willing to defend each other. I gave a single nod and she reluctantly trotted off.

Once we stood alone, my uncle turned to face me. He narrowed his eyes into a scrutinizing gaze and stood over me. "To some it would seem lecherous."

I stared back at him. "I don't know what that means," I answered meekly, feeling as though he had lost his trust in me even though I had done nothing wrong.

"Young men your age should not lead or follow young girls into stables, especially not in the middle of the night," he said sharply. "Do you understand what could have happened? What her family might think of her?"

I flinched at his tone and turned my face away. My actions were borne out of awkward friendship, not a devious master plan. In truth, I hadn't put an ounce of thought into our adventure to visit Moon.

"I meant no harm," I said under my breath. "I wouldn't hurt her."

He sighed, his features relaxing. "I know this," he replied softly. "But others may not."

I forced myself to look at him again. The mask I wore had never seemed so heavy. "I know."

My uncle shook his head at me. "You are truly no different than any boy of your age," he replied. "The same desires…" he pursed his lips and cleared his throat, though I had no idea what embarrassed him. "It's normal, but perhaps not appropriate. You must learn to control yourself."

His words confused me. I bowed my head. "Uncle," I said softly, unsure of why I felt so ashamed to speak. "She makes me feel…different."

He smiled back and me and nodded. "All pretty girls have that effect on young men your age. They make you want to act foolishly and abandon all reasoning."

My cheeks burned. The sensation terrified and elated me, made me feel completely out of control and incompetent, yet somehow wild and free. As different as I felt from the rest of the world, his words made me feel as though I were an ordinary boy on the verge of turning fourteen.

I wanted to feel this way again; turbulent and confused, yet filled with joy and hope.

"We should thank them and bid them good-night," my uncle suggested.

Though I knew he was correct, I had no desire for the evening to end.

"What will happen tomorrow?" I blurted out.

A deep frown set into his face, his eyes lowering. "Tomorrow we continue our travels," he said.

That was not entirely what I heard in his voice. In my mind, he said something else. Tomorrow you will be different again.