A/N: Really hoping I still have some readers for this! No beta this time - so any mistakes are my own. -DSB
David, in his various lives ranging from shepherd to royal, had lived through his share of rotten days. Being forced to assume his brother's identity, Regina's war on his kingdom, his mother's death. And though two decades' worth of time - or more - had faded those memories, he was reasonably certain that the prior day rivaled any of them.
The morning had begun with promise; the discovery of the cave where Rumplestiltskin's boy had been hiding Emma. But with the loss of their final lead on the duo, he had no choice but to head home. Now, when he and Rumplestiltskin had set out, the sorcerer had wanted to enchant David's horse in order to expedite the journey. David had, of course, refused - not wanting his magnificent beasts to be exposed to such vile magic. Instead he'd agreed to ride one from Rumplestiltskin's stable; a caramel-colored mare that was apparently favored by his beloved daughter. He felt closer to her, somehow, setting atop the horse that had carried her back and forth from the place of her temporary imprisonment to her rightful home.
Once he got that girl home, he was never letting her go again, he had decided. Life at the castle just wasn't right without her.
After the waterfall had devoured Emma's shawl and they'd emerged from the cave, Rumplestiltskin had declared that he'd no interest in the hours-long ride back to the prince's palace. He'd left Charming to endure the journey on his own, informing the prince that once he dismounted at the end of his ride, the horse was enchanted to immediately return to its stall at the Dark Castle.
Charming, in his naivete, didn't realize that meant anytime he dismounted.
So three hours into the ride, he stopped at a stream for a break of necessity and thirst. He alighted from the horse, took two steps towards the stream and then - upon hearing a peculiar whooshing noise - turned back around to find his saddlebag in a heap on the ground, the horse gone.
This meant that not only did he have to cover the rest of the distance on foot, he had to do so while carrying both his own provisions and the horse's tack.
Sunset had come and gone by the time he trudged up the walk to his castle, in want of only his wife's embrace and a goblet of wine - in precisely that order.
He got neither.
Instead, two steps inside the gate, a young servant came flying down off of the stoop towards him. "Come quickly, your highness - it's the Princess!"
Dropping his things, he flew into the house, heart light at the return of his daughter. Bounding into the foyer, he expected much joy and merriment - only to find long faces and downcast eyes. "Princess Snow is in her chambers," Bashful said, and the prince only then realized something was amiss - that the servant had meant Snow and not Emma. And why were the dwarves up for a visit? "Doc is with her."
Doc. The mere word incited the prince again. Why was Doc with Snow? Prince Charming darted towards their chambers with little regard over whom he passed along the way. Snow lie in their bed, looking small and pale under a mountain of blankets. Her left leg was entrenched in a peculiar contraption, encased in bandages and suspended from ropes and pulleys. Her eyes opened slightly at his entrance, but fell back closed without a word - as if she hadn't noticed him standing there at all.
"What happened?" he asked Doc, anxiousness drenching his voice.
"It's difficult to know exactly," the Dwarf replied, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses on his face. "Her page found her crumpled on the stone in the foyer, at the foot of the stairs. She must've fallen. She was muttering something about Cora earlier - but it's impossible to know whether the fall was due to Cora or if she's simply voicing her fears about your daughter. In any event, the break in her leg is quite bad - she'll be out of commission for some time. I've got her sedated to ease the pain - but she seems all right aside from the leg and some bruising. I'd say you got lucky, son."
"Lucky!" Charming exclaimed. "You're telling me my wife is in my pain and tied up in that -" he waved his hand idly at the traction machine, feelings of helplessness showing in his gestures "- that contraption, and implying that I'm lucky?"
"It's amazing she wasn't killed, your highness," Doc replied, his voice low and calm to counter the prince's distress. "She'll heal. It will take time, but you have my word that your wife will heal."
Charming huffed and walked past the dwarf into Snow's chamber. He would have liked to call the physician they'd been using to manage Johanna, but Snow would have his head if he dared insinuate anyone's expertise exceeded that of her beloved dwarves. Pulling a chair to her bedside, he eyed the traction machine warily. He clasped her hand tightly between his own, pressing his lips to her fingers. "Dearest Snow," he whispered, tears prickling at his eyes, "Whatever happened to you? How did you get like this?"
The princess merely whimpered, grimacing in her sleep. Charming's brow furrowed; some sedation Doc had given her! It was too much - just too much - to watch his beloved go through this. And all because of Cora!
"Oh, Snow," he whispered, lips still pressed to her fingers, "Sixteen years of peace. And then just like that - the Dark One reappears, Emma's gone, Cora's back. What happened to our calm, peaceful life?"
He laid his head on the bed beside his wife - pillowing his head atop their joined hands. A silent tear leaked from his eye as the day's trauma caught up to him, and he supposed he must have slept. Not that he felt rested - but at some point he woke to Snow's whimpers and Doc's soft voice attempting to calm her.
"Here now, just sip the tea my dear," the dwarf murmured. "It'll help take the pain away."
Charming lifted his weary head, the crink in his neck ignored as he glanced at his wife, the weight of her discomfort seeping in. Sitting up, he reached for the cup. "I'll help her," he said, causing Doc to draw back.
"There's no need, my Prince, I'm happy to tend to her-"
"I said I'll help her!" Charming yelled, leaping to his feet and snatching the cup from the dwarf. A strangled cry from Snow drew his attention, and he sat almost as quickly as he'd stood. "Snow, my love, I didn't mean to frighten you…" He moderated his voice, bringing the teacup to her lips. "Here, my dear, drink." She took a small sip before her face contorted in pain again and she let out another whimper. "Snow, please drink it. Doc says it will ease your pain."
He coaxed another small sip into her before looking back at the dwarf, still standing by Snow's bedside. "There's nothing more to be done?"
Doc shook his head. "The herbs in the tea are the strongest I know for easing her pain. I'm sorry, son… We'll just have to keep her as comfortable as possible. With healing comes pain." Squeezing the prince on the shoulder, he slipped out of the room, leaving the royal couple alone in each other's company.
Charming coaxed another few sips of tea into Snow - a quarter of the cup, at best - as he watched her grimace in pain with every movement she made. She still wasn't totally conscious, not really - as if she were sleeping through the ordeal. Charming set the cup on the nightstand and adjusted the pillows behind her, hoping to prop her into a better position for drinking, and as he did so he noticed the wetness upon her cheeks - the tears she shed even in her sedated state. Balling his hands at his sides, he let out a low growl - enough to make Snow whimper once more. There had to be something to do for her - something more than traction and teas. She couldn't be like this for weeks - he simply couldn't bear to see her in this state. There had to be another way.
Of course. The very source of the problem could be the answer.
Rumplestiltskin.
David called the name, once, firmly, and the sorcerer appeared instantaneously, gaze fixated on the fireplace. Turning, he made a face. "Didn't I just see you?"
Charming stalked towards him, demanding assistance. "I need your help."
Rumple wrinkled his nose. "Not sure your bedchamber is someplace I wish to lend my assistance."
"Dispense with your attitude! Can't you see that Snow is injured?"
Rolling his eyes, Rumple crossed the room to stand near the princess. "I may be old, but I'm not blind. Of course I did."
"Heal her."
The sorcerer walked around the bed, studying Snow, the traction system and lastly the leg itself. Finally he looked back at Charming, sympathy creeping into his expression as he shook his head. "Injuries like this… They're best left to heal on their own. Speeding the healing with magic… somehow it never ends up quite right." He grimaced, recalling his own ankle, the limp masked by magic but never truly healed. "Treatment from Doc will be her best course of action."
"There must be something you can do!" Charming cried, his yell causing Snow to whimper once again as he disturbed her slumber. Lowering his voice, he continued. "I can't bear to see her like this."
Rumple's face softened, recalling his affinity for the bandit-turned-princess. "Healing the injury would not be wise. But the pain - I can do something about that." He waved his hand over the princess' leg, a faint purple shimmer floating across her skin. "She'll still feel a little - enough for Doc to know whether the treatment is progressing well - but she'll be able to rest comfortably."
"And the price?"
Rumple smirked. "The cure is its own price with this one, dearie. You see, pain is self-limiting. She does something that will make the injury worse, she hurts, she stops. You remove the pain, well - something will need to keep her in bed, keep her still, keep her from pushing herself too hard too quickly. That something… Well, it's you."
Charming studied him, trying to suss out the true cost of the magic. "Meaning?"
"You'll need to stay here, by Snow's side, for the next six weeks. You'll need to keep her grounded, focused on her healing - run your little kingdom while she cannot. And that means that what you cannot do is-"
"Find Emma."
"Precisely."
Charming's face hardened. "I'm not leaving my daughter out there all alone! Surely someone else can sit with Snow-"
Rumplestiltskin chuckled. "You have someone she'll listen to, keep in bed when the needs of the kingdom are calling and you're gallivanting about the countryside looking for the long-lost Princess?"
"She's not lost! She's been kidnapped - by your son!"
Rolling his eyes, Rumplestiltskin dismissed the accusation with a wave of his hand. "I believe we determined earlier today that was not the case at all. If Bae wished her harm, I assure you he would go about it in a far simpler manner. Whyever they've run off, your princess is complicit in their journey." Charming moved to object again and Rumplestiltskin raised his right hand, two fingers extended. "Two beds, remember?"
Charming grumbled before eying the sorcerer warily. "You'll continue looking for her?"
"Well I'll continue looking for my son… luckily for you I'm sure wherever I find him, she'll not be far behind."
"And I have your word you'll ensure her safety once you find her?"
"I'll do her no harm, if that's what you're asking. What good does it do for me to present my son with a bride if she's dead?"
Charming sighed, reminding himself that Snow's wellbeing was tantamount to the wellbeing of the kingdom. "Very well then. I'll stay with Snow. Just…" He fidgeted. "Father to father. Find my daughter, please. Her being gone, I can't bear it."
An expression crossed Rumplestiltskin's face for a moment - just for a moment, gone quickly enough that Charming wondered if he might have imagined it. "Your girl will be fine," he replied. "Bae will see to it that no harm will befall her. You've no idea the fortune that befell your daughter with that union." Slipping back behind the mask of the imp, he continued. "Focus your energy on your wife, and don't forget the tea now - wouldn't want Doc to get suspicious."
With that he winked at the prince and disappeared every bit as quickly as he'd arrived. Charming watched after him, marveling at how even after two decades the sorcerer could still surprise him. It's almost as if he'd wanted Charming off of Emma's trail - but why?
Having walked all through the night and into the next day, Emma and Bae found themselves nearly overwhelmed by exhaustion. They found a small crevice in a rock face and tucked themselves away for slumber, for the first time pressed closely together for companionship as much as for warmth.
The next morning, Emma woke disoriented and confused, a cold wind whipping around the rock face. Instinct led her to tug the blanket more tightly around her, but she found her movements restricted by an arm that was wrapped around her midsection. She panicked at the contact, stiffening as she wondered how Bae had managed to roll so far from his usual spot. But it took only moments for her to recall the previous day's events - Bae loved her! - and the recollection that her affections were reciprocated enveloped her in a warmth that not even the bitter wind could tear away.
She relaxed deeper into his embrace, drawing his arm further around her and reveling in its warmth. Catching hold of his hand, she examined it, drinking in each detail in the quiet morning light. The skin was rougher now - gone was the softness of the hand that had helped her as they escaped over his father's wall, replaced by cuts, scrapes and callouses. Each mark, she realized, was acquired in pursuit of keeping her safe, an expression of love before either of them had even realized it. When his protection of her had turned from duty to love, she wasn't sure - perhaps he didn't know himself. But the end result was unmistakable - he loved her! - and the thought was utterly intoxicating. She'd loved him enough to keep her feelings hidden, but she was finding that being able to express her affection only served to strengthen it.
A slight stirring beside her broke her reverie. "Hey beautiful," she heard him whisper, and her heart leapt at the sound.
"Morning," she replied, shifting to face her husband - and wasn't that convenient, already being married. No accusations of impropriety against the princess, at least. A slow smile lit her face as she drank in the sight of his ruffled hair and sleep-clouded eyes. "Yesterday wasn't a dream, then," she said, letting out a contented sigh.
"Indeed not," came the reply, and her smile slid into a grin.
"I love you," she breathed, unable to contain the words now that the floodgates had been opened. She punctuated her words with a lingering kiss, tentative but not uncertain.
"And I you, princess."
They'd risen then, and as Bae had rolled up the blankets and tucked them into their satchels, Emma tugged her shawl tightly around her before digging her hands deep into its pockets. Her fingers brushed against something cold - hard - metal - and upon drawing it out she grinned. "The change from my boots," she'd exclaimed, and Bae had matched her smile.
It wasn't much, to be sure, but it bought them enough at market to give them a buffer on starvation.
Several days later, the duo walked side by side late into the evening. Theirs was a quiet love, it turned out - none of the splashy brashness that some love affairs have, but rather a calm, reassuring foundation to which they both clung in the uncertainty of their future. Emma often caught herself glancing over at Bae - needing to see him by her side, sending her the small smile that said all that she needed to hear. Just as often, she'd catch him looking over, seeming to scrutinize her - as if he was trying to decide whether he could trust in her promises - or perhaps as if he were just waiting for fate to snatch her away as quickly as it had taken everything else he'd loved.
She'd just squeeze his hand tighter when she'd catch him, her thumb worrying at his knuckles, knowing that the contact eased his anxiousness more effectively than words ever could. There was nothing she could say that he didn't already know, that she hadn't already told him - but the words couldn't change his well-earned fears, and she didn't hold that against him. It wasn't that he didn't believe her, that he didn't trust her, she knew - it was that he didn't trust in life to let him rest in happiness for even a few moments.
Silence abounded as they walked, small talk holding little value to the duo who couldn't rightfully be called children anymore. The cave had changed them - falling in love had changed them - and their circumstances seemed to magnify their maturity tenfold. Emma felt hard-pressed to identify with the princess who had stood in the marketplace a mere month prior - skittish and scrambled as she let her panic run away with her. Despite the similarity in circumstance, running this time was different - felt different - if only because she had the sense they were running to something as much as they were running away.
Having a destination changed the tenor - almost as much as being a they. A future - no matter how wobbly and uncertain - that they could put a name to. "When we get to Lincolnshire," the conversations would start, full of hope and plans and promises they both knew would probably never come to fruition. For it was temporary - only a stopgap - a haven in which to take refuge while those more capable dealt with the problem at hand. But it was a promise, an ideal of a life with few complications, and it was enough to propel them forward when their feet were on fire and their stomachs twisted with hunger.
The leftovers from their picnic hadn't lasted long - not when they'd walked nearly a day straight. And the coppers Emma found in her pocket bought only a few morsels, the last of the bread having served as their dinner that evening. As they walked on, Bae caught Emma stifling a yawn. Taking that as a cue to turn in for the night, he pointed out a barn that he had spotted a short distance from the road. The farmhouse lay a good distance beyond it, lessening the likelihood that the rightful owners would take notice of intruder and leading Bae to suggest it as a shelter for the night.
"You want us to sleep in with the cattle and swine?" Emma asked.
He laughed. "Not in with them, just in their general vicinity. We'll find warmth within the barn, far safer than sleeping out in the open."
"Nonsense. I've got you and our lovely blankets... plenty of warmth."
Bae rolled his eyes. "Very funny. Come on. You loiter down near the road and I'll check it out."
Emma frowned. "I'm not staying down here without you-"
"No sense in both of us getting caught. Who will come rescue the dotty boy who wanders halfwittedly into barns if we are caught breaking in together?"
She laughed. "We'll need a signal then - an all clear of some sort."
"Give me two minutes. If you haven't heard from me, you can assume it's safe. I'll whistle if there's danger."
"A whistle? Surely you can do better than that."
"My birdcall is a bit rusty."
She rolled her eyes at him before giving him a gentle shove towards the barn. "Go on. Two minutes."
By the time she crept alongside the barn and entered through the door he'd left cracked open for her, he had climbed into the hayloft above the stalls. In the moonlight that seeped in through the open door, she could see him leaning out from the loft, grinning. He gestured for her to shut the door behind herself. Once she had done so, she headed for the ladder, only to find her husband waiting at the top of it.
"Here, hand your bag up," he said. "It's an easier climb without it."
She clambered up the first two rungs before having gained enough height to do as he'd asked, then made it the rest of the way up to join him. Looking around, she observed the neatly stacked bales of hay before looking at her husband and raising an eyebrow. "You want to sleep up here?"
"There's an area in the corner where the twine has been cut from the bales and the hay is loose. It should provide a reasonably soft sleeping surface."
"Scratchy, though," she said, wrinkling her nose.
He laughed as he headed for the corner in question. "I think you could find fault with any bedding I locate for you, my dear. Come now, your inner princess is shining through."
She attempted to level a glare at him, but the effort was undermined as corner of her mouth turned up in the start of a smile. "My inner princess would never be caught anywhere without a feather duvet, let alone sleeping in caves and barns and the like. I believe it was for that reason that we left her behind at your father's."
"Ah yes, she refused to leave her hairbrush."
"Precisely!" She sighed. "Some days I think she was wise."
"Come now, this last month hasn't been so bad," he said, sitting himself down on the floor of the loft, back propped against the wall. He offered her a hand once he was seated and she took it, accepting his assistance as she settled herself next to him.
"No, not all of it," she said, leaning into his side. "Some parts have been downright wonderful."
"The part where you learned how to start a fire?" he replied, a small smile threatening to break through his sarcasm.
She laughed. "I was more speaking of the part where I fell in love with my own husband."
"Ah yes, that part. I was rather fond of that part myself," he replied, the sparkle in his eye betraying his amusement.
"Oh shush," she reprimanded him with a scowl, "You didn't even notice."
"Only because you took care to hide it from me!"
"Well, whatever would you have done if I'd broken our trust? The whole premise of our friendship was that we were both miserable!"
"I think I much prefer the current premise," he replied with a wry smile.
"Yes, I suppose it is preferable," she said, letting out a contented sigh. They lapsed into silence, Emma staring blankly into a far off corner of the barn as her thoughts consumed her.
Bae must have caught the worry that crept across her face, as he looked down at her, brow furrowed. "What?"
"What are we gonna do, Bae," she asked plaintively.
"What do you mean?"
"Once we get to Lincolnshire. We've no money and nowhere to live and no marketable skills - and even if we did, we need to remain out of sight. How are we going to survive out there?"
"I don't know, Emma. We'll figure it out as we go along, I suppose," he said with a shrug.
"Hm." She frowned, not reassured by his unworried attitude.
"Do you have a better answer?"
"No." She paused, taking a moment to release a deep sigh. "I hate that we're stuck in this predicament. I hate that instead of planning a life together like normal newlyweds we're stuck running for our lives from a crazy sorceress. And I hate that we've no idea when, or even if, we'll be able to return to our home to develop some sense of normalcy."
"I know."
She sighed again, leaning more heavily against him. "I'd just like to have the ability to know what my life is going to look like more than five minutes out. Your father showed up and turned things upside down, then just when I'd started to find my footing again, Cora became a threat... and then it was that infernal pirate. Will this forever be our life?"
He shook his head adamantly. "I won't let it be."
"How can you promise that, though?"
"I don't know, Emma. I just do. If we want things to play out differently, then we need to take hold and make it so. We'll get to Lincolnshire and build a life there, away from the madness of the feud that is between Cora and our parents. Once they've settled it, we can go back."
She bit her lip, considering his plan. "But how will we know when it's safe to return?"
He shrugged. "How did we know we needed to leave? We'll hear things, someone will travel with news of home... we'll just figure it out as we go."
She studied him for a moment, his features dimly illuminated by the shards of moonlight seeping through the loft's small window. "Is this how you've lived your life?" she asked, voice soft. "Flitting from place to place, figuring it out as you've gone along?"
He shrugged again, ducking his head in the self-conscious manner he always got when she asked about his past. "I haven't always had a lot of choice," he replied, his tone matching hers. "I've done what I needed to do to survive."
She frowned and leaned her head on his shoulder, her hand finding his and giving it a squeeze. "It's so different than what I'm used to. But somehow," she said, looking up at him and giving him a small smile, "You make me feel like it could be okay."
"It will be okay," he said firmly. "It's my job to make it so."
They sat silently for a while before Emma noticed that he was beginning to nod off, no matter that he was still seated against the wall. She slipped her hand out of his and stood, leaving him to look up at her through bleary eyes. She moved to pull the blankets out of their satchels and began to spread them out in the sea of loose hay. After blinking to clear the sleep from his eyes Bae stood to join her, grabbing the corners opposite from her and pulling the blankets taut.
"If we sleep between them it might lessen the scratchiness," he suggested and she nodded in agreement. They settled down between the covers and he reached a hand up to brush a strand of hair out of her face. "See? This isn't so bad. I think it might actually be better than the cave."
"The smell is divine," she said with a giggle.
"Some day, dear Emma, we'll have our own space. I promise you that."
"With a real bed?"
"A real bed, and actual lamps instead of crude torches. And a settee that will be used for seating, as it was intended."
She smirked and gave his shoulder a small shove before drawing closer to him once again. "Perhaps a small yard, a rose garden... a swing in which to sit on the porch."
"You'll have an entire castle some day, I think small yard may be an understatement."
She frowned. "Not for some time, though. Perhaps we can have our own space for a bit. I've no need for a castle - though having someone to prepare food is a nice touch."
He chuckled. "Princesses have no need for cooking lessons, I suppose."
"Oh, no, princesses do indeed receive cooking lessons. I've been trained in all sorts of things. It's just that in the cooking lessons, I've failed. After the second time I set fire to cook's favorite dish cloth, they decided it was one of my more negotiable skills."
"It was abandoned in lieu of swordfighting, then, I presume."
"Swordfighting, archery, geography, mathematics - even my otherwise weakest skills seemed strong in comparison to my cooking."
"Well then perhaps we'll have to make some sort of arrangement when it comes to the cooking. Or eat stews every night, I can prepare those."
She laughed. "Under the threat of stew for eternity, perhaps I could find the motivation to resume my cooking lessons." She shook her head, burrowing deeper beneath the covers. "It will be a while before that opportunity presents itself, though. For now..."
"We should rest up so we can continue our journey?"
"Mm."
They'd been sharing a sleeping space for a few weeks now, but it was proving to be a bit different sharing a bed as a couple. An arm around her - always - as they abandoned the notion of sleeping back to back. Various limbs strewn this way and that, no longer any need for each to keep to their own space. The rest... they were still working out.
Two nights ago he'd given her a simple kiss and settled into sleep. The night prior, they'd walked to the point of exhaustion, and it was amazing they'd kept their eyes open long enough to make it under the blankets. But tonight the shelter proved a bit more formidable, the hayloft closer to a bed than the ground or even the padded floor of the cave had been.
Conversation faded out into a kiss goodnight - which led into a second, then a third. For perhaps the first time since they'd found themselves in love, they had a moment to catch their breath and focus on nothing but each other. He'd taken to peppering her face with kisses, and she found her hands wandering lower - eventually playing at the waistband of his trousers.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, hey," he said, catching her wrists and moving them northward, pulling them close and pressing kisses to her knuckles.
Immediately she looked down, ducking her head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I just thought - I mean we're married and so..." She trailed off, finally lifting her eyes to his, feelings of hurt and rejection scattered across her face. "Don't you want to?" she asked, voice small.
"Of course I want to - of course," he replied, letting a throaty chuckle escape. "It's just - you're a princess, Emma. You deserve so much better than this... the barn, and the hay, and - and the -."
"I don't mind," she said, interrupting him.
Still he shook his head. "I need to do right by you. That can't be a stolen hayloft."
She moved to object again, but the moment had passed. She sighed in frustration. "I don't care about being a princess, Bae. I just want to be your wife."
"You'll be both," he said, pressing a far-too-chaste kiss to her temple. "We'll get this whole mess sorted and figure it all out. I promise you that."
Emma pushed out another frustrated sigh, and Bae pulled her close once again. Reaching up to brush her hair off of her face, he kissed her. "I swear to you, Emma, I'll do everything I can to give you the life you deserve. I don't know how I've been so fortunate to find another chance at family, at happiness… but I won't squander it. You're my family now."
She didn't reply - instead curling into his side and letting her eyes fall closed. Just days prior, all she could have asked for in life were for her affections to be returned - now they were, and in this moment, that would be enough. The deep and even breathing of her husband served as a lullaby to soothe her into sleep, a night for once unbroken by the fears of the past, but instead filled with dreams of the future.
"Emma," came the whisper, and she squinted against the morning sunlight to find Bae standing over her, finger to his lips. "The farmer's downstairs. If we move quickly, we can get out while he's still mucking the horse's stall."
Groggy, she furrowed her brow but moved to stand. She'd no sooner stepped off of the blanket to stretch out than Bae had rolled it up, stuffing it into the satchel and motioning her towards the ladder. He descended first, furtive glances towards the horse stalls. Then he stood guard at the bottom to be sure that Emma, in her sleepiness, made it down without tripping.
He needn't have worried - she was awake now. Arising to danger had a way of doing that. She hopped off the last rung and started for the door, Bae tightly at her heels.
But as they reached the barn door, their steps were halted by the sound of the farmer clearing his throat - loudly. With one hand on the door's wooden crossbeam, Emma chanced a glance back. The farmer stood, a pitchfork in his hand and a cross between a smile and a smirk on his face. Looking between the pair, he addressed them -
"Leaving without saying goodbye?"