𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞

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~ 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨 ~

The girl with an appearance as gentle as a flower stood idle on the top of the hill. Her radiant golden-blonde locks, resembling fields of wheat, fluttered gently in the soft afternoon breeze. She was a child with nowhere to go and no one to talk to about such matters. She was alone.  

"Thank you," she said to the man who was digging a hole. He was a neighbour, someone who offered her a kind gesture that she would never be capable of repaying. "I couldn't have done it without you," she said, "so thank you very much."

"You're welcome," he said. The man's face was stained with beads of sweat and an expression of fatigue, but he smiled at her gently when he spoke. "There's an orphanage in the next town over. Lots of children live there. I'm afraid I can't take you right now, but—"

"Don't worry," she said, cutting him off. As she said it, her brown eyes glistened like honey jars in the sun. "I'm sure that everything will work out well by itself."

If my suppositions are right, she thought to herself, he'll come get me soon. There's no point in running away. That person will find me, no matter where I go, where I try to hide.

"May I finish the rest?" she asked, holding out her small hand. She felt useless standing there watching him work.

He frowned as he handed her the shovel. The afternoon breeze blew like a sombre song when the young girl finished burying her mother. For the older man, it was a heartbreaking scene.

"I'll get us something to drink, you'll be thirsty." He paused long enough to catch his breath, before continuing. "I'm sorry, kid. I informed the villagers, but no one wanted to gather for the funeral."

He removed his tattered hat with a shaky hand, unable to meet the child's eyes. The girl, whose curly locks seemed to glow in the sunlight, smiled softly. It was a smile with a deep sadness in it, unfit for a child of that age.

The girl responded with soft words, her little fingers wrapping around the shovel's handle as she spoke: "I understand, please don't apologize. Giving me a place to bury my mother and helping me is more than I deserve."

Dylan's smile wavered as she remembered the woman who had raised her. Her mother had a warm smile and a kind heart. They didn't have much money, and there were times when Dylan had to go to bed without having eaten, but her childhood was happy and full of love.

"I'd like some alone time," she said to the man. "Please."

After the man nodded and walked away to get them something to drink in the sweltering heat, Dylan gazed up at the brilliant blue sky. She wondered if her mother was watching over her from above, and fixated on the clouds with a blank stare. She was oblivious to the soft footsteps approaching her from behind, lost in her own thoughts.

As she suddenly felt someone's presence behind her, Dylan's thoughts raced. He's here, she realized, the only other person who had come to her mother's funeral, just as she had anticipated.

The Duke stood tall and broad-shouldered, clad in an expensive all-black suit, with a matching top hat shielding his grief-stricken face from the scorching sun. Against the vibrant green hill, his sombre attire and dark colour stood out in sharp contrast, making him seem out of place.

"Hello," he said softly. The Duke approached the young girl with a gentle demeanour, observing her vacant gaze fixed on the sky. "My name is Morris. What's your name?"

Without tearing her eyes away from the clouds, Dylan replied, "Dylan. Dylan Lembarg."

Upon hearing her name, the man's expression softened, and a warm smile spread across his face. He removed his hat with a gloved hand and kindly inquired, "Dylan, do you have somewhere to go?"

"No," she responded bluntly, still not looking at him.

"Well then," he said, his gloved hand outstretched in an inviting gesture. "Would you care to come with me?"

 "Would you care to come with me?"

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