Mistakes

by Kyra4

Gunther's bewildering behavior frustrates Jane to the point where she flatly refuses to ask him for help– possibly at the cost of her very life. "He could sense time stretching out ahead of him– days, weeks, months. Years. Time that, according to the laughing bandit, wouldn't include Jane. He didn't want it. He didn't want ANY of it, not a single, solitary moment." J/G *Complete*

15. Chapter 15

That evening, as she'd dismounted at the end of the day's ride, her legs had failed her for the second time.

They'd buckled as her feet had touched the ground, simply refusing to support her, and thank God she'd still had the reins in her hand, because they'd suddenly and literally been the only thing holding her up.

She'd gasped, tightened her grip, and frantically clutched at the horse's mane with her other hand. Then she'd buried her face in the side of the animal's neck and just stood there, holding on for dear life, shuddering, trying to get her breathing, and her suddenly-racing heartbeat, back under control.

She'd gulped in several deep breaths, nuzzling her face in under the horse's mane, breathing in the animal's inherently comforting, earthy equine scent. Steadying herself.

Struggling against the sense of panic that wanted to rise in her like a tide. Fighting it back.

Willing herself calm.

Maybe she should say something. Maybe, at this point, she had to.

[No! Not now, that makes no sense, we are so close to home. We will get there tomorrow, and when we do, I will have all the help I need.]

But what if –

No. She'd shaken her head, rubbing her face against the horse's warm, slightly sweat-dampened neck. No. She was not going to say anything now, she was not interested in giving Gunther any more ammunition to use against her. To imply again that she was useless, or weak, or… or… no. Just no.

She couldn't take that. Not on top of everything else. She –

"Jane?"

Her head had shot up, startled eyes flying open to find Gunther there, right there, so close they were almost touching. Frowning down at her with a troubled, dark-grey gaze.

It felt as if her heart had leapt straight into her throat. How had he gotten so close to her without her realizing it!? She'd had no idea, no idea that he'd been… been right on top of her, and that was unacceptable, just completely… wrong, so so very wrong.

She was usually keenly aware of what was going on around her at all times – as a knight, she had to be. It had been trained into her, drilled into her, from a very young age – but more than that, it was an inborn characteristic; something that came naturally to her. Something that always had.

Only… only now…

This was bad. This was so bad. What was happening? Dear God, what was happening to her?