As an ordinary young girl, living in the forest for a long time requires shelter, water, food, and basic necessities. She wouldn't have such a peaceful expression if she hadn't taken care of her appearance for so long. Her hair and skin clearly show meticulous care. She seems to be wearing a pale blue dress beneath her cloak. It's unlikely she wears makeup, but a girl of such striking beauty wouldn't be content with more than the bare necessities; she'd probably at least be more refined. I roughly pictured her daily routine. She wakes up in a cozy little cabin in the morning, spends an hour meticulously getting ready, then follows her schedule, and goes to bed early, spending each day leisurely and effortlessly. Behind this cozy routine, there must be a powerful figure, perhaps even the little girl's guardian. Thinking the worst, there might be more than one.
No. I suddenly realized the impact the existence of a Guardian would have on our plans. It was a neutral variable that could be intervened, modified, a loophole that I could exploit. If there were one or two Guardians—and I was almost certain they existed—then they would be the key to stopping Will. The sight of them would reveal Will's true colors, and then I could seize control of the situation, bring Will safely back to camp, and then feign illness and hide in my tent until the group set out again. No matter how much he beat his chest and stammered, I would never see him again.
I don't know if it was the onset of night or the dense foliage overhead, but even the faint red glow had vanished. We felt as if we were in a vast, empty cave, its walls covered in black soundproof panels. Darkness and silence enveloped us. All I could see was the orange light in the girl's hand, huddled modestly, swaying from side to side with her steps. Will was clearly frightened. Several times, I had to deliberately take a few extra steps to avoid being touched by him. But this was a good sign. If I continued to be afraid, the fear would eventually reach an unbearable point, and before he collapsed, he would beg me to go back. But we couldn't expect that to happen. At all times, the best plans should always be hidden in a high-rise attic, far removed from reality. Ideally, they could be launched into the sky. Then, they could be viewed as dazzling holiday fireworks.
Ultimately, darkness is more harmful than beneficial. The girl continued to stride confidently, oblivious to our pursuit. It was too early to wait for moonrise. Just like the darkness before dawn, it's the time when the sun and moon exchange shifts, the sentinels of the sky are unguarded, and the tide of black from beyond takes advantage to fill the entire world. Occasionally, falling leaves create a nerve-wracking crunch underfoot. Leaves, tragically fallen in mid-August, are unwelcome on the ground. They've arrived in the wrong place at the wrong time, an anomaly outside the regularity of the season. This thought suddenly leaped from the soles of my feet to my mind, leaving a harsh echo. The darkness amplified every sense to the utmost. In the distance, birds crisscrossed their nests. The road narrowed, and the large trees on either side unscrupulously encroached on the space available for passage, though without vines hanging down. Further ahead, the landscape would likely become as complex as the jungle Dobbin had run through. We had also been traveling in the wilderness for two months, but we couldn't compare to the warriors who braved the wilderness alone. In order to explore the way, I had to reach out and grope the tree trunks in the dark, always suspecting that there were some disgusting things that were difficult to distinguish hidden on the rough bark.
Will and I were like two clumsy miners, chasing the elusive gold in a pitch-black mine tunnel. The surrounding scenery was completely swallowed by the darkness, making it impossible to remember the route. Fortunately, the girl made few turns and generally followed a straight line. But how far we were from our destination, completely unfamiliar with this forest, was impossible for me to determine. The rest of the journey was left to fate. The real problem was how to return in the pitch-black darkness. The thought made me secretly regret why I had taken such an unnecessary risk with Will. But now that we were here, with Will by my side, turning back was impossible. I patted my cheeks twice to make sure my mind was clear, then roughly estimated the appropriate speed. What we lacked in preparation, we could only make up for with adaptability. Compared to the predicaments described in history books, our situation was not extremely urgent.
History is replete with examples of early mistakes that were effectively rectified. I took several deep breaths and broke off a branch to use as a walking stick. Will followed suit. There was no need for him to follow me, but he seemed to be using the branch as a defensive weapon.
Once we reach the girl's place, how do we get back? Pretending to be lost in the forest, stumbling upon a light and seeking help from the owner might be a good idea. But we're not truly lost, and there's no reason to enter the forest. So far, the girl's route doesn't need to be memorized. If I can make it all the way to the end, all I need is a light, not a guide. The enthusiastic hermit will personally escort the helper back to camp, and Mrs. Walker, upon hearing the news, will immediately capture Will and bring him back. Who knows what bizarre story he'll invent. And I, in my father's eyes, will become a mischievous child, a liar who conceals the truth.
As for negotiating a reasonable explanation with Will, I don't even have to think about it. Mrs. Walker is definitely better at getting a confession out of a prisoner than an Imperial agent, especially since Will is just a thirteen-year-old boy she's been beating up since he was a child. Unless I testify on Will's behalf. But that won't work this time. I'm afraid I have to deal with my father's questioning first.
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