Dreamwalker's Bride - Chapter 291

Chapter 291: Tripping over myself
Ford stared at Mia for a long moment, studying her face. The first time they’d talked privately together since before the cave… if you didn’t count her single question to him in the barn.

Her words hung between them, an acknowledgement that they were keeping secrets from her father. While he was incredibly grateful for it, there was still a slight sense of wrongness about it.

Not that they had done anything wrong, particularly, but just that they both knew instinctively how angry it would make the man.

She dropped her gaze and moved as if to step around him and head back to the camp. He reached his hand out and took her wrist.

“Mia, I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” He blurted awkwardly.

The woman looked up at him, startled, but he rushed ahead before she could flee.

“I don’t exactly know what I’ve done wrong–well, that’s not true, I hid and followed you, which was not the greatest of ideas–but the others have mostly forgiven me for that, so I don’t see… that is, Mia… do you forgive me?”

Her blue eyes shined clearer than the river’s water. Her still-drenched hair made her look like one of the dryads that Daniel had conjured an image of a few days ago.

“Yes, of course,” She mumbled, pulling her arm away. “I should… get dinner cooking.”

“Did I do anything else wrong?” Ford asked the question hastily as she began to walk away.

“No.”

The word was soft enough that he leaned closer to make sure he’d heard it correctly. Now that he had her alone, he was anxious to make sure there wasn’t a reason she was cold towards him.

Preferably, something he could remedy. She was the first person he could remember that had ever claimed him as a friend, and feeling like she was angry with him was an unpleasant sensation.

“Are you sure?” He pressed, and Mia looked at him once more. His eyes searched hers for answers, and, not finding what he looked for, he sighed. “Are we still… friends?”

The idea didn’t quite fit what he wanted to say, but he had no better word for what he wanted to know. He watched as she absorbed the words. Her lips pressed together as she formulated an answer, and his eyes fell to them.

Her cheeks flushed red. Was she over-exhilarated from her swim?

“Sure. We’re friends.” She smiled, but even he could recognize it wasn’t the same easy smile she used to offer him. This was strained.

“I still can’t help the feeling–” He began, but she turned away again.

“I need to get the meal started. I’m sure everyone’s hungry.”

She strode away, and he almost directed her back towards the camp, except, quite obviously, she could easily find it. So why was she walking in the wrong direction?

Maybe to save him from the embarrassment of walking back with her… as if he’d been alongside her for longer than he had.

His face burned. Seth really would kill him if anyone got the idea that Ford had tried to spy on Mia…. well, to be honest, maybe Seth had already had that thought. After all, Ford could turn invisible. If he were a different, worse kind of man, he could have seen all sorts of–

He cut off that train of thought as his face burned hot enough to make him turn back towards the water. That was an extremely unhelpful line of thinking, and it wasn’t who he was at all!

Ford even felt a little angry that Seth had probably suspected such terrible things about him!

Or maybe he hadn’t. Maybe Ford was overreacting. He moved to the riverside and scooped a handful of water to splash his face in an effort to cool it.

That conversation had not gone as well as he might have wished.

But it could have gone much worse, he supposed. He wasn’t even prepared for it, being caught totally off guard when Mia suddenly tripped over him. He’d been too stunned to react at first.

After all, his thoughts had been lingering on her, and then she seemed to appear out of thin air and fall directly on him!

He shouldn’t be thinking about her. He should be concentrating on the road ahead, the tasks to come, and cementing all the skills Grandpa had been teaching him.

Ford bent down to scoop up the small knife and piece of wood he’d been whittling for the past two days. He hoped it wasn’t hurt when he dropped it; that would be a lot to redo.

The skill was something he’d taken to rather well, unlike fishing. After his initial success with the large trout, Ford was unable to secure anything more. Daniel, however, had gotten several sizeable fish caught for supper. Ford shook his head. He couldn’t expect every new skill to be in his wheelhouse.

But whittling… Grandpa had explained the skill as valuable for replacing broken tent stakes or making a branch into a javelin for defense or hunting, but with a side of artistry for those with patience.

Ford considered himself patient, though he wondered whether his self assessment was earned. He looked down at his carving, slowly taking shape as he cut away pieces of the wood that didn’t belong.

Why was he making this? He had no use for it. Perhaps it was just something to mark the passing of time. He couldn’t whittle too much while riding on horseback for fear of cutting himself, but he continued to try his hand in every spare moment he found elsewhere.

He’d never had free time in his life for little hobbies like this. Even if what he wound up making was incredibly ugly, he could at least accomplish the creation of something new.

Stashing the carving in his pocket, he checked his reflection in the water and walked back to camp, hoping that he and Mia wouldn’t arrive too suspiciously close to the same time.