Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 253

Chapter 253: Hm?
Mia’s eyelids fluttered open with the first hints of dawn in the sky. Her eyes felt dry and gritty, and she moved her hands to rub them.

Well, one hand. Her mouth fell open as she realized her other arm was stretched out above her head and her hand was being gently held by someone. Slowly, she tilted her head back.

Ford. Ford was fast asleep, his hand loosely holding hers.

How?

When?

She swallowed. Her bedroll appeared to be in the same place as when she went to sleep, but his had moved closer. Within arm’s reach.

And… they held hands?

She bit her lower lip. Sleeping all curled together during the storm had been a matter of survival. Mia could separate that out in her mind, mostly, as being absolutely necessary and not meaning anything.

But holding hands?

Ford stirred slightly and opened his eyes to catch her staring. He withdrew his hand and shook it, cracking his knuckles and stretching his fingers. Mia watched his nonchalant ministrations with interest.

She tried to work up the courage to ask, but every time she did, her throat suddenly went dry.

Sighing with frustration, she pulled her knees up to her chin and buried her face in her hands, facing away from him. Maybe if she couldn’t see him, the question could come out more easily.

“Ford?” She asked.

“Hm?” The single syllable was wrapped up in a yawn.

“Can I ask you a question?” Her words were muffled through her fingers, but she couldn’t manage to look up just yet.

“You were crying in your sleep,” Ford’s voice held a note of irritation. “Holding your hand was the only way I could get you to stop so I could get some rest.”

Mia’s face burned. She peeked at Ford through her fingers, but he had turned away, rolling his shoulders as if one was sore.

Maybe it was, after reaching out towards her all night.

He moved to stand up, and she leapt to her feet, getting slightly tangled in her blankets in the process, and moved to help him.

“I’ve got it,” He grumbled, but she took his arm anyway to hold him up until he had his crutch positioned. He didn’t shake her off.

“I’m sorry,” She told him. “I–”

“It’s probably a good sign, right?” He asked, and she stared at him blankly. A good sign that holding his hand apparently helped keep her calm at night?

“Pardon?” She swallowed, trying not to jump to conclusions.

“That you were having nightmares. It must mean your uncle’s not close enough to talk to you in your dreams, right? No matter how mad he is, he didn’t seem like he would torture you with nightmares or anything.” Ford suddenly looked a little doubtful of his claim, but Mia rushed in to reassure him.

“Oh! That! No, if he were able to, he’d make sure no one he loved ever had a bad dream again. He must be too far to have any effect here.” She nodded.

“I wonder if he knew about this entrance,” Ford glanced over to the tent where Gary slept. “If they get across the river, will they come looking for you here, or somewhere else first?”

“I don’t know,” Mia admitted. “We should just work as quickly as we can so we don’t have to find out.”

Ford nodded, and Mia stepped away, realizing she’d stayed close to him after helping him up.

Even though she didn’t intend to set foot in the cave today, necessarily, she should pull her weight in this little expedition. She got to work stoking the fire and cooking breakfast.

Gary emerged from the tent, his eyes flickering between the two younger occupants of his camp with a contemplative expression. When Mia caught his gaze, his face morphed into an easy smile and he stretched lazily.

“I’d forgotten the pleasure of waking up to a pretty face,” He commented lightly. Mia looked away uncomfortably, and Ford moved to stand between the two of them.

“Oh?” His tone was curious. Unhurried. But dark. Gary pursed his lips.

“Don’t be like that, Ford. I stayed in a boarding house with a simply lovely proprietress. You jump to such unsavory conclusions,” He tutted, and Mia’s shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Apologies,” Ford mimicked Gary’s tone, “Shall we get to work?”

“Breakfast is ready,” Mia interrupted, not wanting to see Ford go into the darkened place without adequate nutrition to sustain what had to be backbreaking efforts.

“I’m ashamed I didn’t think of inviting others into this mission ages ago,” Gary sat down and picked up a plate cordially, “Only, it’s so hard to find anyone trustworthy, isn’t it? It’s a benefit that you already know everything you should, so I know you aren’t using me for information before stabbing me in the back.”

The comment was offhand as he served himself, but Mia still frowned at him.

“We don’t stab people,” She told him.

“Your uncle may have, as I recall, though I may have that part of the tale incorrect.”

Mia paused, and swallowed. “I’m sure you do,” She replied evenly, but was she entirely sure?

As a child, she’d been kept away from much of what had happened. She didn’t see any bloodshed, unless there were further, deeper memories locked away inside. She couldn’t say for certain that what happened after she was gone…

Didn’t Aunt Anaisa say that the man behind it all was dead?

Had Uncle Trace stabbed him, as Gary implied?

That didn’t necessarily change Mia’s view of her uncle in any practical sense. After all, he’d fought in the war. He’d probably had to kill people. She’d just never given it much thought until this moment.

“My mistake, then,” Gary’s focus now was on his food. “Of course, I couldn’t have seen everything, only hear the rumors afterwards.”

“Rumors are unreliable,” Ford shrugged as he also helped himself to breakfast, “And gossip is the biggest enemy of work getting done in the mines. Let’s eat and get started.”