Faithful Pebble
Part Sixteen
He took a breath watching him from his place by the door. "I will keep your secret," he said. That had been his answer, the wanderer, and the old woodcutter, knotted, twisted and gnarled from regret and stubborn pride, just nodded silently into the fire. Dark and lonely, the image haunted him, burned him savagely as he walked away from the weather-beaten building, the forgotten road that led from the tattered hut to the congested market in the center of town.
"I had stopped talking," she said. "I had upset him and I'm sure that didn't… He must have died angry with me."
"I'm sure," the wanderer answered. His anger settled with the memory. He sighed down at the girl. "I'm sure that the emotion did not last and that he would not wish for you to hold on to your guilt."
"My guilt?"
Silence ensued and in its wake the wanderer let another question sail from his lips. He rested his weight against the wall. "Why did you fall in?"
"What's your name?"
The man paused. He licked his lips. "You avoided the question."
"So did you," she answered.
He nearly smiled, nearly not quite—no that was a smile, simple, blue and brilliant. He shook his head then turned lifting the rope, following its lead towards the grounded tent peg. He tugged it. "I need you to answer a question for me. And your answer, I wish it to be honest."
Thank you for the reviews everyone! - Calla