The One Who Won't Be Abandoned - Chapter 9

After buying a bundle of grains that were far from cheap for our limited means, I had managed to drench it completely in the rain. Sure, maybe if I’d washed and dried it properly afterward, it could’ve been salvaged. Maybe we could’ve kept it for a long time, cooking and baking with it little by little.

But no. That stormy night, after trudging up the muddy mountain trail soaked to the bone, I ended up collapsing with a severe cold. For the next day, and the day after that, I couldn’t leave my bed, my entire body racked with pain.

The rain, which had poured like the heavens had opened, abruptly stopped before dawn, as if it had never been. By morning, the sky cleared, and the sun blazed as if to dry out the rain-soaked mountain.

If only I had washed and dried the barley and beans right then. If only. We could’ve cooked and eaten it for weeks—boiling, roasting, saving it bit by bit. And if Andre had done it for me when I couldn’t move, it would’ve been even better.

But Andre, who had braved the rain as much as I had, was no better off. He ended up sick too, and for several days we lay side by side in the same bed, alternating who burned with fever as if competing to see whose temperature could climb higher.

It was a near thing—we could’ve died. If Andre hadn’t boiled the last scraps of venison into broth before he fell ill, or if he hadn’t stored fresh water from the stream, we might’ve starved to death or died from dehydration before we even began to recover.

“Haah…”

I sighed as I stared at the spoiled grains, now speckled with white and black mold. Just looking at them was enough to make my chest tighten. The loss of money was bad enough, but the thought of going back to the village, carrying another load of food all the way up the mountain, was almost too much to bear.

“Jeanne.”

I turned at the sound of Andre’s voice. He had returned from the forest, his steps light despite everything. As soon as I saw him, I dropped the bag of ruined grains I’d been holding, letting it fall carelessly to the ground.

“Apples?”

“Yep.”

Andre had lifted his shirt to use it as a makeshift pouch, carrying small, wild apples against his stomach. Though tiny, the pile of bright red apples looked to be about ten in total. All at once, my worries melted away, and I practically bounced over to him in excitement.

“Wow, you’re amazing!”

At my praise, Andre gave a shy, boyish smile.

We sat near the campfire, which was still surrounded by damp earth but no longer drenched in rain. Picking up one of the glossy apples that had been washed clean by the storm, I took a big bite. The crisp crunch echoed as sweet juice flooded my mouth.

“It’s delicious!”

The gloomy mood that had been weighing on me from the spoiled grains lifted in an instant.

“Where did you find these?”

“You have to go deeper into the forest. It’s dangerous there, so you shouldn’t come. I’ll go instead.”

“Still, let’s go together next time. What if you fall again?”

Despite my lightly teasing tone, Andre only chuckled faintly, without protest. He really did seem to laugh more these days. He’d once been the epitome of a proud and distant young master, but now he looked like a boy his own age. It wasn’t a bad change at all.

“Oh, you’re so cute,” I teased, ruffling his hair with my free hand as though he were a child. Andre didn’t seem to mind the casual touch; he let me tousle his hair in silence, his expression soft and unbothered.

“I should start exploring the forest myself,” I mused. “Have you checked the traps lately?”

“Yeah. Completely wrecked.”

The traps had been ruined by the storm. The baskets we’d set out were blown away by the wind, and the pit traps Andre had dug had collapsed, rendered useless. The food we had painstakingly carried up from the village was now inedible, and with no traps left for hunting, we were back to square one. We’d have to make spears or something and try our luck fishing at the lake.

Frustrated, I tossed aside the core of my half-eaten apple and got up, brushing the dirt from my clothes.

“Let’s go.”

“To the forest?”

“Yes. With the rabbit.”

“You’re going to let it go?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Andre rose to his feet and followed behind me. Back in our cabin was my first-ever hunting catch.

The young rabbit had been doing well for a time, happily munching on the dried grass we had pulled and set out for it. It had even grown larger and healthier over the days we cared for it.

But when Andre and I were bedridden for days with fever, we’d neglected the rabbit entirely. Only that morning, when we finally had the strength to check on it, did we notice the rabbit lying limp in its pen. The water and grass in its bowl remained untouched. It wasn’t starving—it was clearly sick.

Returning to the cabin, I went straight to the rabbit’s pen and peered inside. The gray rabbit was lying on its side, twitching its ears faintly.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were this sick. How about we go outside?”

I carefully reached into the pen and cupped the rabbit gently in my hands. Andre stood beside me, watching silently as I lifted the rabbit and cradled it against my chest. Stroking its frail body, I let my fingers convey the apology I couldn’t fully express in words.

“Let’s go.”

I wasn’t taking it outside to abandon it because it was sick. If it didn’t recover even after being set free, I’d bring it back and care for it until the very end.

With the weak rabbit nestled in my arms, Andre and I left the cabin, turning our backs on the fire pit as we headed into the forest. This was the same area where the rabbit had been caught in one of my traps.

I knelt on a soft patch of grass and gently set the rabbit down.

“Don’t die. Hang in there,” I whispered softly, encouraging the little creature. Guilt weighed heavily on me. If only I hadn’t set the trap. If only I hadn’t kept it caged. Its sickness felt entirely like my fault.

The rabbit remained hunched in place, its body still weak, but it sniffed at the grass with its nose twitching furiously. As I watched it anxiously, Andre spoke up.

“Is it okay?”

“Yes. It looks like it’ll be fine—it’s holding its head up well.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean, are you okay not eating rabbit stew?”

I snapped my head up to look at him, my mouth hanging open in disbelief. Andre was crouched close beside me, so close that I had to tilt my head all the way back to meet his eyes.

“Are you insane? How can you even think about eating a sick animal?”

“Relax,” he said, smirking. “I think it just needed sunlight. Look.”

Following his gesture, I turned to see the rabbit hopping across the grassy patch. It bounded with surprising strength, its hind legs propelling it high enough to reach the level of my knees. It didn’t look like the same feeble creature from moments ago—it was brimming with energy.

“Oh my gosh.”

The sight of the rabbit frolicking in the grass was utterly adorable. It moved as if trying to entertain us, and I couldn’t help but smile at its antics.

“It looks healthy. Should we eat it tonight? Now that it’s hopping around, it looks like it’s got a decent amount of meat on it,” Andre said casually.

“No way!” I shouted instantly, appalled by his heartless suggestion.

“We’ve shared a roof with it! How can you even think about eating it? Don’t you feel any attachment to the poor thing?” I protested.

“We were raising it to eat it,” Andre replied matter-of-factly, looking at me as if I were the one who didn’t make sense.

“There’s no more venison, and the food you bought is ruined,” he said.

“So what?” I stammered, glaring at him.

“Looking at its size, it should be enough for one meal. Tonight’s dinner could be that rabbit—”

Before he could finish his cruel sentence, I let out a dramatic scream, cutting him off.

“Ahhhhhh!”

I bolted toward the rabbit, my sudden shriek and frantic movements startling it. The rabbit dashed away at lightning speed, disappearing into the safety of the dense grass and trees in the forest.

Once I was sure it was safely out of reach, I turned back to Andre with a triumphant grin.

“How about apples and wild berries for dinner tonight?” I suggested cheerfully.

Andre stared at me, his mouth slightly open, clearly taken aback. It took him a moment to recover before he answered.

“There aren’t any berries left. The rain knocked them all off the bushes.”

“What? No way…” I groaned in dismay, clenching my fists in frustration.

Having eaten nothing but apples all day, my stomach burned with discomfort. Maybe this was why adults always said it was important to have a balanced diet. Still, despite the ache in my stomach, neither Andre nor I complained aloud.

As night fell, we ended the day as we always did, lying side by side under the same blanket on the single bed.

“Jeanne.”

As I lay restless, tossing and turning, Andre’s small voice called out to me in the darkness.

“Yeah?” I answered softly.

“I can’t sleep. Hug me.”

I hesitated for a moment before turning to face him. Andre’s face was right in front of mine, close enough that I could feel his breath. Sharing a small bed and blanket made the proximity unavoidable.

While I’d grown used to sleeping side by side, meeting his gaze at such a close distance still felt awkward.

I masked my discomfort, keeping my expression as neutral as possible.

“Does it help you sleep if I hug you?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, then.”

As soon as I extended my arms, Andre eagerly burrowed into my embrace. Despite his youth, his sturdy build as a boy was undeniable. He pressed into me with enough force that I had to shift backward to avoid being pushed off the bed.

Worried I’d end up falling, I wrapped my arms firmly around him and shuffled toward the middle of the bed, pulling him along with me. This awkward wriggling left me holding him just as tightly as he was holding me.

Andre, now settled, pressed his face comfortably against my chest. I stroked the back of his golden head a couple of times before cautiously speaking.

“I think I need to go back down to the village tomorrow,” I said.

“…”

“We need more food.”

“Can’t we just not go? I’ll dig new traps tomorrow,” he replied.

“We don’t know when the traps will catch anything. If we wait too long, we’ll be too weak to even make it to the village,” I reasoned.

I mentally calculated the money I had left. Spending all of it on food didn’t sit well with me, but there was no other choice. At least it was enough to get us through another month or two in the mountains.

However, taking Andre down to the village with me wasn’t an option. The village was still rife with tension from the Kaiman family’s downfall, and it would be far too dangerous for him. I wasn’t willing to take that risk.

“The atmosphere in the village is still bad. I’ll go by myself,” I said firmly.

“No. I’m coming with you,” Andre insisted, tightening his arms around my waist.

I sighed inwardly and softened my voice, trying to coax him.

“Last time, we were lucky not to run into any soldiers. They’re still out there, probably searching for a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes like yours. When I went down alone, there were a lot of soldiers patrolling. If you come with me this time, they’ll definitely find us.”

“…”

“Andre.”

I tried to push him back slightly to meet his eyes, hoping to reason with him, but he clung to me stubbornly, refusing to let go.

“Andre, I’m doing this for you. I’m worried the soldiers will catch you.”

And I’m scared that if they catch you, they’ll catch me too. The unspoken words stayed lodged in my throat, swallowed down with my unease.

“Alright? I’ll buy plenty of potatoes and flour. I’ll even get some eggs.”

“You’re going to have trouble carrying it all by yourself,” Andre protested.

“It’s fine. I’ll just buy what I can carry on my own,” I replied, trying to sound firm.

I spent a long time trying to persuade him to let me go to the village alone. But Andre refused to agree, his stubborn silence standing firm against my reasoning. Exhausted by the argument, I fell asleep before I could get a clear answer from him.

When I woke the next morning, the same problem weighed on me: how could I convince Andre to stay behind while I went down to the village alone? Staring blankly at the spiderwebs swaying weakly on the wooden ceiling, I racked my brain for an answer, only to give up and sit up with a sigh.