Another shriek rang out, and she realized it was not the sound of an animal. She turned towards the noise and saw her sister stumble out of an alleyway.
“Lili!”
Marthe began to run. She rushed past the merchants’ stores until she was nearly opposite the hospital again. “What happened?”
“Leave me be.” Élisabeth collapsed on the ground.
“Are you hurt?” the baker said as he caught up with them.
Élisabeth tried to hide her face in her hands. “For your own sakes, get away from me.”
Marthe lay her hands on Élisabeth’s back. “Did you faint again? You must have fainted.” She turned to the baker. “I’m sure she’s only fainted.”
The baker shook his head. “She’s bleeding.”
Élisabeth wiped the blood off her lip, then tentatively probed her teeth with her fingers. “It’s… their blood. Not mine.”
“Whose blood?” Marthe asked.
She pointed back to the alley. “The… those men.”
“Damned wolves,” the baker swore. He darted towards the laneway.
“Maître Verger!” Marthe called after him as he rounded the corner. She blanched at the sight of her broken sister and cursed herself for leaving Élisabeth alone. “What happened?” she asked her. “Were you attacked?”
“Yes! No. At least… they were going to hurt me.” Élisabeth’s eyes were frantic. “But it was not me who bit those men. I am innocent.”
“Of course you are innocent if you have been attacked, Lili. What a thing to say!”
The baker trotted back towards them. “No one there,” Verger said. “Was it fur traders who did this to you?”
“It was—” Élisabeth blurted out, then took a breath. “No. Never mind. I’m not hurt.” She glanced up and down the road, then staggered to her feet.
“Come to the baker’s house to rest. It’s just down the road. I’m sure Sister Gagnon will understand if we do not return straightaway.”
“No.” Élisabeth shook her head. “We must go back to the farmhouse. I want to be with the nuns.”
“Then I shall accompany you to Pointe-Saint-Charles,” the baker offered.
“No,” Élisabeth insisted more forcefully. “We will soon catch up with the others. They can’t be far ahead.” She wobbled as she started to walk west towards the nuns’ farm and Marthe knew it was not worth trying to argue. She turned to the baker and tried to smile.
“Thank you for showing me the village, Maître Verger. And your bakehouse.”
“Please think about my proposal. I am hardworking and my bread is the best in the entire village. With you as my wife—”
“I must go,” Marthe cut him off. “My sister needs me.”
“Then let me walk you back. It is not safe—”
“No. Thank you. My sister and I will be quite well on our own. I saw the nuns go by not a moment ago.”
She took some satisfaction in the baker’s crestfallen look. In all honesty, she wouldn’t have minded his company along the walk home, but she worried Élisabeth might do something to further shame her. With a pang of regret, Marthe wondered if she would ever see Maître Verger again.
Élisabeth was walking briskly along the path, her head down with both hands thrust into the pockets of her skirt.
“Lili, wait. Tell me what happened.”
“I cannot. I can hardly explain it to myself.”
