Nothing was further said later that evening in regards to that particuar incident. Though it seemed to have been already long forgotten by the time the fullness of night settled in, it was not, however erased from memory.

Carlisle Cullen did not return to the room until Esme was fast asleep. He reflected briefly during his absence from Esme's presence, on the benefits he may have had, had he requested for another separate room. But he concluded that this short delay in their travels en route to the Evenson's home, would not take longer than is necessary.

After all he had been advised strictly by the young girl's grandmother before she died, that a watchful eye must be kept on her at all times. For though she deems herself to be mature, that certain maturity is but of a precocious mindset, for her naivety of the world leaves her vulnerable to even of the minutest distractions. And Carlisle has no intention of having her stray under his supervision.

As a matter of fact, their current arrangement would not be so troublesome as one would suspect. All he really needs is a steady chair to rest his limbs on, and a good sturdy desk for him to write in.

After all, the man himself never slept.

Slumber never touched his eyes, and in his perpetual wake, the sights of dawn and dusk was an old friend to night was his blanket, and the moonlight the lullaby in his sleepless limbo. For when he was alone, away from society, from humans, he was a wanderer in the outer darkness. He carried a secret that was known only to him, a secret that both condemned and cursed him. A slave to eternity on an endless spinning wheel, a wheel with no hope for repose. It was in times of his great solitude that he was reminded once again of the line between the dead and the living.

And how he was at the center of that line.

It was a line he never crossed, never even if only in secret, for he condemned himself just as much as the burden he carried condemned him.

But now, as he returned to the quarters of the room he shared with her, and sat in the old wooden chair that was adjacent to the window, the aftertaste of animal blood in his mouth; he watched the sun rise, and then he looked at her fast asleep in the bed.

As he gazed at her sleeping form, he mourned for a moment when the golden strip of life was shorn from him. He could not understand why, but as he gazed into her sleeping face; some primal fear of longing emerged, one that had no shape or form, one that reason could not fathom.

A sense of kinship somehow made him bound to her, for they both lived in darkness. And in a way shared it. A part of him envied her, because the darkness she carried was only within her eyes, and not in her soul - unlike him.

His own shadows penetrated every corner of his life, covering it like a great shroud. Filling it, till it suffocated out of its own humanity, and there was no other choice but to live in it. One could not even call it living, but rather a mimicry of life.

Yet somewhere, hidden in the recesses of whatever remained in his barren soul, he found that he indeed grew to care for her.

As to what extent was unknown to him.

A few hours later into the early morning, Esme was awoken by Carlisle.

She felt her shoulders being shaken gently. She moaned slightly from beneath the sheets and pillows that were covering her face.

"What is it?" She mumbled quietly, rubbing her eyes.

Carlisle, who was already fully dressed, was sitting at her bedside.

"I've got to go into town today."

The words made Esme open her eyes.

"What? Without me?" Demanded the young girl, rousing herself into a sitting position. Her hair a familiar tangled sight.

He looked into her face and for a moment was tempted to smile at her expression.

Instead he kept his voice flat, his face as blank as a solid brick wall.

"Yes." Was his answer. "I won't be long. I only intend to arrange a carriage for us to be prepared the moment the roads are clear."

"But why can't I go with you?"

"Might I remind you of your ankle's condition?"

"Oh...of course..." Carlisle's words reminded her of the stinging sensation from when he put the antibacterial solution to her gaping wound.

He watched her shoulders drop with disappointment.

"I'll only be gone for an hour. I've already had your breakfast arranged. The Innkeeper's daughter will bring it here shortly-" Said Carlisle, making note of the time on his pocket watch, "And I will insist that during the duration that I am away, you will not leave your room until I have returned."

"But-"

"No exceptions. I mean it Esme."

He watched as she made a face, her back slowly sinking into the pillows once more.

"Supposing nature calls, what then?" Challenged Esme.

"Then you're going to have to hold it in."

"What!? That's inhuman!"

"No its not. Now, you will stay here and do as you're told." Stated Carlisle sternly, placing his hat on his head as he stood up from her bedside.

"Fine." She grumbled, feeling like a prisoner.

A minute later, she could hear the echoing sound of his heels on the wooden floor as he walked away from her, followed by the opening and the closing of the door.

He was gone.

Outside of her room, Carlisle was standing there for a moment, gathering his thoughts. There was some strange urgency in him that fought for him to stay; a strange instinct advising him not to leave her, and that he could always have a carriage arranged for some other day, but there was another force in him that was pulling him away.

It could not wait. A war was about to ensue and soon she would no longer be safe even in her own country; the force in the immediacy of her situation was unavoidable.

He had to leave her, albeit only for half an hour or more so perhaps. She would be alright.

She would be fine.

He tried not to repeat those words too loudly in his mind as he descended the stairs. The awaiting day of a gloomy October unfolding before him.

Back in her room.

Esme remained in her bed for precisely the fifteen minutes Carlisle had been gone, when she heard a soft knocking on her door.

"Come in." She called out.

"Good morning, Miss." A voice answered, equally as soft in manner as the way she had knocked. "I've come to bring you breakfast, where shall I place it?"

"Just set it anywhere you wish, thank you." Esme replied politely.

The Innkeeper's daughter obliged and set the tray gently on the wooden table.

Esme observed the girl from afar, listening to the sound of her movement, feeling rather curious.

"How old are you?" Esme asked kindly.

The auburn-haired lass replied, "Sixteen, Miss."

A smile formed on Esme's lips, "As am I!" She said with excitement at finally meeting someone her own age, "I've only just turned sixteen the other day."

"That's wonderful, miss!" Said the girl with a smile, her tiny hands agile and efficient as she carefully worked her way around the table.

"Might I know your name?" Asked Esme.

The girl was setting down some silverware next to a napkin before she answered, "Ellie is my name, Miss."

"My name is Esme, you don't have to call me Miss."

"As you wish, Miss...Oh I mean, Esme..." Stammered the girl nervously followed by a rather dainty laugh. Esme laughed as well, a feeling of belonging encapsulating her as the sound of her voice was joined with that of a girl her age.

Shortly after Ellie had set the table and all formalities were dismissed, she then proceeded with drawing the draperies back, allowing whatever speck of sunlight that was available into the room.

"Such a dreary mornin'." The girl exclaimed quietly, traces of her mid-land accent lingering in her tongue.

"Is it?" Said Esme.

"Aye, do you not see it?" Queried Ellie innocently.

"Sadly, no. I cannot see...I'm blind."

"My goodness, Miss Esme! I do beg your pardon."

"No. Its quite alright really." She assured the young girl, "I'm quite used to it by now."

The girl left her position by the window and made her way to Esme's bedside.

Sitting down, Ellie inquired, "Is that why your father looked so worried when he left?"

"My father?"

"Yes, I saw him leave your room a few minutes ago."

Esme's expression showed both amusement and mild confusion,"Oh, he did not tell you? He's merely my guardian, not really my father."

"Ohh, I see." Said Ellie as she nodded, "I should have known, you don't look like him at all."

Esme laughed again, "I know."

"He looks rather handsome."

"Who?"

"Your guardian." Said the girl in a hushed voice, but with an impish smile, her cheeks turning rather pink.

Esme smiled slowly this time, "I wouldn't really know. I'm afraid I don't even know what he looks like."

"Oh yes. I apologize again, I didn't mean to-"

Esme waved a vague hand in the air, "Don't trouble yourself."

There was a small silence between them for a moment.

"Did he really look worried?" Esme finally asked.

"Yes. He looked as though he had a lot on his mind. I don't think he even saw me comin' up the stairs when I passed by him."

"Oh."

"Where was he headed?"

"Into town, he wants a carriage arranged for tomorrow. We were en route for Berdfordshire Grange, but the storm took us rather by surprise."

"I see. I know that place, its about two miles from here."

"I can understand why we need the carriage." Esme mused rather humorously, "I don't think it wise to walk all the way."

Ellie gave a soft chortle beside her, "I think not."

The young girl then stood up from her seat beside Esme and said, "Well, if there's anything you need Miss..err..Esme, you may call upon me. I should excuse myself, father has sent me for errands after this."

Esme felt the weight in the bed shift as the girl got up. "Ohh, where is he sending you?"

"To the market," Replied Ellie as she tightened the sash on her apron. "He'd like for me to purchase some goods for our storage in the cellar."

Esme bit her lip in thought. Without thinking the words left her mouth before she could restrain them.

"How far is the market?"

"It isn't very far, just near the old bakery-"

"May I go with you?"

"To the market?"

"Yes."

Ellie hesitated, "Its awfully muddy out there Esme, and chilly, and crowded-"

"I don't mind, I've a coat and gloves. Please Ellie, may I go with you?"

The young girl wrung her hands in consternation. She looked into Esme's pleading face, and could not help but to concede, "Alright, but what about your guardian, wouldn't he be angry if you left without asking for his permission?"

"No, he wouldn't. If we are to return quickly before he does. He wouldn't even have to know." Said Esme with a mischievous grin.

Ellie shook her head in amusement, "Aye, you're a wild one Miss Esme. But you have to stay close to me, we wouldn't want you getting lost."

"Very well, whatever you wish." Esme agreed.

The young girl then watched as Esme got out of her bed, and with much alacrity, said to her, "Quick, help me change."

Several moments later, the two young girls walked out of the old Inn, arm in arm with each other.

Esme began her first few paces away from the establishment, and upon inhaling deeply, there was a salty sweetness in the air that was both promising and foreboding.