The tavern was a welcome respite from the cold reality of the run. June sat across from Wilson, a half-empty mug of cider in her hand. The noise of the patrons around them provided a comfortable buffer, a white noise that made the moment feel strangely private.
Wilson leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs, a playful smirk on his face. "So," he asked, taking a swig of his drink. "Now what are you up to, convict?"
June chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "Nothing. Just roaming around until I finally have the courage to go back."
Wilson's smirk faded into a look of genuine curiosity. He let the front legs of his chair bang against the floor. "Go back? Go back where?"
June stared into the amber liquid of her mug. "Nothing, just... when I think of home, it's nothing that would inspire me to go back. It's quite the opposite. It's a place of shadows."
She looked up, forcing a smile. "Forget about me. What about you? What are you up to?"
Wilson shrugged, stretching his arms above his head. "Well, I have nothing else to do. So why not just stay at the inn today? Relax. Maybe bother the innkeeper a bit more."
June chuckled again, the tension in her shoulders loosening. "Yeah, well. Let's do that."
***
Later that evening, back at *The Rusty Anchor*, the mood shifted. The sun had set, casting the room in blue shadows. June was packing her small bag again. She wasn't running, not exactly, but the walls felt like they were closing in.
Wilson sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. He looked hurt.
"I thought you said you didn't have anything to do," he said, his voice quiet.
June paused, tightening the drawstring of her pack. "Yeah, so I will go back to camp. And well, stay there."
"You can't leave," Wilson said, standing up.
June turned, frowning. "What?"
"What about us?" Wilson asked, spreading his hands.
June sighed, dropping her pack onto the bed. "What about it?"
"I thought we were going great," Wilson said, stepping closer.
"We were," June admitted, her voice softening. "But I am not who you think I am. And well... I never want to let you down because of these goddamn secrets."
Wilson looked at her, his gaze intense but kind. "So tell me then. You tell me yours, and I'll tell you mine."
June stared at him. She looked at the door, then back at his open, honest face. She was tired of running. She was tired of being 'Cathy'.
She sat down slowly on the edge of the bed. She took a deep breath, the words catching in her throat.
"Well," June began, her voice trembling slightly. "I was born and raised in a palace. And well... it was so magical. My mother was there, and my brother—gosh, he was so little and clumsy. And the other two were just menaces too."
She smiled at the memory, a sad, far-off look in her eyes.
"But it all ended too soon. I remember it as a broad daylight that night. The battle was on the frontiers, and my father was too ridden by it. My mother wanted to protect us from any attacks that might be on while my father was gone, so she took all four of us and just went into the saving chambers."
Her voice dropped, the smile vanishing.
"But it was too soon. The guards who had betrayed us found her, and me, and all. She screamed and shouted for us to run. I was a little older than the three brothers, so I told them to come with me."
June's hands clenched into fists on her knees.
"But the guards came in. And before I could take them with me... I-I couldn't do it. I ran by myself through the tunnels and made my way to the battlefield. I ran too high, too much."
She took a shaky breath. "I then exhausted found a place—The Bodlege Training Camps for soldiers. I didn't go in at first. I just stood there, staring. And then I saw a little girl, just like me, staring back. She walked out, took my hand, and said, *'Why don't you come in?'*"
June looked up at Wilson, tears standing in her eyes.
"That was Carmine."
To be continued.