8. Eleanor

8

ELEANOR

H ead pounding, Eleanor’s eyes fluttered open. The room spun as she looked up at the wooden ceiling above her. She closed her eyes again, wanting to sleep just a bit longer. But when she tried to roll over, she noticed how soft and comforting the mattress was.

Did Uncle replace it?

Despite the pounding in her head, she could hear the sound of a fire coming to life, crackling and popping as the warmth spread around her.

A fire?

Rolling over she slowly opened her eyes, needing a moment to take in her surroundings. Her brows furrowed as she was met with an unfamiliar chair that looked to be masterfully crafted out of wood and a warm fire burning in a stone hearth.

Eleanor’s eyes widened as she quickly shot up, only to regret moving so fast as her headache roared back to life.

“Ugh,” she moaned, looking around the small, foreign room, “where… where am I?” she muttered to herself.

Looking down, she noted a small cup filled with water, neatly resting on a round side table.

“You should drink something,” a dark, baritone voice came from somewhere off in the distance. Eleanor startled as her head whipped towards the direction of the sound, but almost immediately the voice rang through the room again. “Do not look. Stay where you are. I do not wish to scare you.”

Her mouth opened slightly before closing again. Heart racing, she cautiously sat back down on the edge of the bed, keeping her head forward. “Why should I be scared?” she asked, listening intently for his answer as her eyes searched for the door, without moving her head.

“I often get the feeling that my looks… make people uncomfortable. You are already in an unwell state, I do not wish to worsen it.”

Eleanor tilted her head, slightly taken aback by his response. Out of all possible answers, it was not what she was expecting. Still, even if he meant no harm, the situation was still odd.

“Listen,” she started, “I apologize if I have caused any trouble, but I have no money-”

“Money?” the man asked. Her heart skipped a beat as she listened to a slight shuffling in the distance, as if the man were adjusting his stance, but she saw no sign that he had moved closer to her. “You are injured,” he continued, “it is my fault. I should have been watching the trails with greater care.”

Eleanor turned to look in disbelief but stopped herself from turning fully. She shook her head, looking at the fire across from her. “I am the one to blame, not you. I should have been more cautious when navigating trails I am unfamiliar with.”

“Then, it is both our faults. Now please, drink the water. It will help with the headache you are most likely suffering from.” Eleanor’s eyes quickly found the cup, but she didn’t reach for it right away. As if sensing her apprehension, he spoke again. “I promise, I did nothing to it. It is safe to drink.”

Surprising even herself, she reached for it and carefully lifted the brown cup to her mouth, tilting it back until the crisp water met her lips. Realizing just how parched she was, she kept drinking until it was gone, setting the cup back down on the small table when she was done.

“Thank you,” she finally said, “for helping me.”

“I am partially to blame in the first place. This is hardly worthy of thanks.”

Eleanor turned her head slightly, just enough to look over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of her savior. All she could see was darkness. “Truly,” she started, “if you knew what I was running from, you would know that it is worthy of all of my thanks, and more.”

She could hear shuffling once more, but the back of the room was so dark that nothing could be seen. “And what was it,” he said, his voice low and calm, “that drove you to run to the forest so late at night? What if you had met somebody dangerous? I thought women tended to hide away on Hallows Eve.”

Her shoulders sagged and she looked down, playing with her hands in her lap. “There are myths of beings and creatures meaning harm. Still, even if I had been caught by someone with ill intentions, in either case, my problem would still be solved.”

“Myths?” he asked. “Meaning you do not believe in the stories people tell?”

She laughed. “And you do?” Eleanor shook her head. “I believe what I see. I believe in science, in facts. In accurate records.”

“Stories are just another form of records. They are a way of passing a deeper meaning.”

“You sound like you do believe. Tell me, why did you help me? What if the Headless Horseman were to steal you away too?”

Eleanor was enjoying her banter with the hidden man so much, that she was half expecting an answer right away.

Yet somehow, the ambiance in the small cottage changed as she waited for his response. Clasping her hands in front of her, she straightened her back as if being examined. Though, that is exactly what she felt was happening.

Did I say something wrong?

Footsteps sounded behind her, moving farther away from her, rather than closer. She listened as the man took a few more heavy steps.

“You need rest,” he finally said as the sound of an opening door filled the growing silence between them, “It is dark, and you will be unfamiliar with the terrain. Please stay inside and sleep. I will return in the morning.”

“Where are you going?”

“There is but one bed, I will rest in the carriage.”

“May I at least know your name?” she asked, fighting the urge to turn around.

The man hesitated before answering. “Osiris.”

“I’m Eleanor.”

“Eleanor,” he repeated, raking over each letter in her name as if it were a foreign word on his tongue, sending a slight shiver down her spine.

Eleanor’s face heated as she stared at the fire, her heartbeat now quickening for an entirely different reason. “I wish to see the face of the man who helped me,” she blurted out.

“Get some rest, Eleanor,” he said, closing the door, leaving her entirely alone.

Eleanor allowed herself to finally stand, turning around to regard the cottage.

It was small, just like she thought. But, she could also see that great care had gone into it.

Oddly enough, as her eyes found the place Osiris had just been standing, it was not dark at all. In fact, it was just as well lit and open as the rest of the room which basked in the glow of the burning fire.