She was heading into the trees now, following what must be a secret route the farmer had suggested. Gideon drifted parallel to her path, staying concealed behind the trunks, watching as she picked her way between roots and bracken.
When she was less than twenty feet away, he stepped out from behind an oak.
“Catherine.”
She froze mid-step, her head snapping up. The hood fell back from her face—pale, frightened, eyes went wide with recognition.
Then she bolted.
Gideon stood for a moment, perplexed, before chasing after her.
“Wait!” he called, “why are you running? Catherine! Come back!”
But she only ran harder, hiking up her skirts, cloak streaming behind in the wind. Gideon was above her, atop a slope. He sprinted parallel to her dashing figure, but the path sloped downward, and he realized with cold dread where it led—a steepgorge with a ramshackle wooden bridge spanning the rushing water below.
She was heading straight for it.
“Stay away from me!” Catherine called back as she reached the bridge, “I can't trust you! I won't live with a liar! Just let me go!”
“No!” The word tore from his chest.
He had not intended to sound so vehement. The emotion surged from within him, an erupting volcano, denying what she had claimed to want.
I will not let her go! I cannot!
Reason fled him. The urge to keep her in his life was suddenly the driving imperative. Theonlyimperative. Catherine backed away, stepping onto wet, mossy planks which creaked under her weight.
“You took away my writing implements and my letter!” she cried, “You are trying to trap me!”
“I am not! I did no such thing!” he retorted, frowning.
She continued to backpedal away. Below, the stream gushed and roared as it dashed itself down the steep slope. Beneath her boots, the bridge protested.
He slowed near to a halt and softened his voice, “What letter? What are you talking about?”
She turned away, face twisted in anguish.
“I am so tired of not knowing who I can trust. I am so tired of this constant, gnawing anxiety… I just want to look you in the eye and know that I am not being lied to for once!”
He began to descend the slope, sending a bow wave of leaf mulch and loose soil before him. Catherine stood in the middle of the bridge now, tense as a bird. Gideon spread his hands.
“I swear to you that I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have removed nothing and have not ordered that anything be removed. Is that what this is about?” His voice was raw with frustration. “Is that why you ran? Because of some missing letter?”
“I have to be able to trust you, Aaron…” she breathed brittlely, “as once I did.”
Something beneath her cracked.
Catherine looked down as a plank she had just stood on gave way. She danced to the side, but as her weight came down on another rotted board, it, too, splintered.
Gideon dove forward.
His legs ate up the distance in two strides. He caught her around the waist, lifting her bodily as timbers collapsed behind them. The bridge was disintegrating, plank by plank, chasing them toward solid ground.
Just as he reached the other side, he felt the substance beneath his feet vanish, the wood falling away. He hurled Catherine ahead of him. She landed hard on the bank, safe.
His next step found only air.
He fell.
