The Fox and the Hare's Clandestine Meeting Beneath the Falls

“Please come to the Avoch Waterfall at midnight. Even if the world ends, or the almond blossoms turn sour, come all the same.”

Lying on his bed, Saimon read the note again and again in his mind. During one of his rereads, he even thought he could detect the faintest trace of her scent although, looking back on it now, he was sure that it was all in his head.

I shouldn’t get too ahead of myself, he thought.

A wooden mantle clock carved into the shape of the Hagian goddess of love, an ironic perk of the cottage, indicated that it was twenty minutes to midnight. Seeing this, he leapt from his bed and marched out of the door. Mags had informed him that the waterfall was only a ten-minute walk away but, having never been there before, wanted to give himself ample time.

Although it wasn’t comparable to the country’s more urban settlements, one could walk around the township of Camford at night without the need of torchlight – modern gaslit lamps adorned the streets, illuminating the way for nightwalkers, and one could always count on the curtain dimmed light emanating from some insomniac’s window.

God knows how many times Saimon played the latter role.

Just as you could not compare Camford to the capital, one could not compare East Meadow to Camford. The young man stepped out of the cottage, was greeted by the inky night, and immediately retreated back into his rooms for a torch. It was then that he could begin to make his way towards the rendezvous point, Avoch Waterfall.

He found her by the riverside, near enough to the falls that the sound of cascading water diluted his footsteps. It wasn’t until the fire that she lit cast a light over his form that she noticed him. She, herself, wore a grey cloak that concealed her identity. Upon noticing him, she threw back her hood.

“You didn’t bother to hide your face,” she murmured.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise we were doing something clandestine.”

Agatha flushed. “This isn’t the big city. If anyone were to see you, if they followed you…” she trailed off when he gently clasped her by the shoulders.

“But nobody followed me,” he assured her. “Now, why did you call me here? I…I need to know.”

“Take me away with you.”

“You want to be with me, then?”

“Yes.”

“Why go anywhere at all?” Saimon asked. “We could build a life here in East Meadow. Raise a family, you know? I could get a job in Angler’s Port and commute, we could…”

“No,” she interrupted him abruptly. “No, no, no!”

It was as though the very mention of the village’s name was sufficient to make her lash out. She was the one holding onto him now, and then they were holding onto each other, the girl trembling in the boy’s arms.

“I can’t… w-we can’t stay here,” she insisted. “The world is too big. If only I had been born a man, if only I could have been a soldier, if only… if only!”

She was, it had to be said, not making sense.

“Why do you hate this village so much?” he shook her lightly.

She stiffened, as solid as stone. Almost as though she hadn’t been hysteric just moments prior, she spoke, “Saimon, my dear, it just seems to me such a waste that the world should be so vast, and I should die having only seen this small corner of it.”

He laughed, not maliciously but because of the unexpectedness of her answer. “The Queen’s realm only makes up a fraction of the world, and Camford is only a fraction of that. You’ll never see it all,” he said.

“That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” she sniffed. “And ‘tis only a start. We could go to Hanshi next and see your hometown. Wouldn’t you like that?”

“We could see what’s left of it, yes,” he replied coldly.

“I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You don’t have to say what you think I want to hear, you know,” Saimon said. “You want to leave East Meadow, I understand that well enough, but it doesn’t have to be with me. If I was anybody else, you’d still…”

“Don’t be so naïve,” she hissed, acidly. “You don’t love me either. How could you? It’s hasn't even been a day.”

“If I didn’t love you,” Saimon straightened himself, the flittering of the flames reflected in his dark eyes, “then why am I seriously considering taking you back to Camford with me?”

Her eyes met his, brightening. “You don’t mean it?”

“I might be the biggest fool in the world.”

“No, Saimon, you won’t regret it,” she tried to persuade him. “I could learn to love you, I’m sure. You could learn to love me. Really love me, I mean. With your heart, and not just, well, you know already.”

“My heart is fed up,” he sighed. “As is my mind and my body. If we go, it can’t be immediate. You don’t understand just how stressful life in the townships can be, Agatha. If you did, you might not dismiss my suggestions so quickly.”

She ignored that last part, for the simple reason that she did not want to hear it. She rested her head on his chest and began to whisper softly: “you’re an honest man, so just promise me, and then you can take as much time as you want to rest.”

He hesitated; as he lowered his eyes to take in the form of the girl for whom he was going to give everything up, she turned up to look at him. Their eyes met, and before he could stop himself, he found himself speaking softly.

“I promise. All I need is a month or two.”

“How do I know that won’t turn into six? And then a year, and more?” her insecurities began to bubble up.

“Because I promised,” he pointed out. “And you said I was an honest man.”

“That was lip service from the girl who would be your wife,” she smiled. “In truth, there are no honest men. No, dearest, I’m going to need something else from you.”

“What else can I give you? I don’t have anything but my word.”

There was no need for her to reply. Instead, she placed her palm on his chest and pushed lightly; there was little force behind the push, but he allowed himself to fall onto the ground, his head cushioned by fallen petals. It was not immediately obvious in the dark, but they grew here too.

The almond blossoms, that is.

With the aid of the fire, Saimon could vaguely discern their shapes, massive monoliths overlooking them which stretched endlessly into the night sky. His scholarly mind began to whir, and he was going to make some pithy, insightful comment or another, but the words would not come – a warm sensation overwhelmed his lips, and his observations were left unsaid.