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I woke up with a start. It was a dark winter night, or a dark winter evening, or a dark winter morning, hard to say with the pitch black sky outside the window, the dull reflective shine of the snow negated by the lamp beside my chair.
I heard knocking on the door. It must’ve been what woke me up.
I wasn’t afraid of whoever would come to my house, night or not. I grabbed my rifle and came up to the door.
They knocked again, and I froze. It wasn't banging, or beat, it was gentle rapping, loud just enough to wake someone but not disturb.
I dropped the rifle and flung the door open. There stood a dark figure, snow on the hood of her black coat, face unseen. But I didn't have to see her face to recognise her.
"Rider!" I cried, throwing myself into her embrace. "Thank god you are alive, they have been saying all sorts of things!"
Rider all but carried me deeper into the house.
"I bet they have been talking about hazel wood, haven't they?"
Her voice was coarse and quiet. I removed the hood and gasped. Scars covered her face – much more scars than when I saw her the last time – and one, the most terrible, marked her throat.
"God," I whispered and started sobbing. "I'll kill them, Rider, I'll ki—"
"Mary, please, stop," she said gently. "I would joke about us murdering people, but the only thing I want to do is kiss and caress the woman I love."
I looked her in the eyes. They were now surrounded by wrinkles, and not of that kind that comes with smiles and laughter.
I wanted to tell her something simple, or just kiss her, after all these years, but my mind was too shaken by everything, and what came out was rambling.
"Rider," I said under my breath. "I can't believe I'm calling you by your name to your face. Is it a dream?" My body went limp. "It is a dream, isn't it?"
Rider leaned closer and kissed me in her distinctive way, after which you wouldn't want anyone else to kiss you.
"I promise, Mary, that it's not."
"What are we going to do?" I asked.
"Tomorrow? We talked about it tomorrow, alright? And now?" she kissed me again, until I had no air.
I woke up that night at least three times, before it finally bloomed into a morning lit by a weak sun, and she still was by my side every time. I kept looking at the wrinkles, giving a silent oath to guarantee that new ones would never be brought by pain.
In one of these moments, she opened her eyes and caught me staring at her.
"Mary," she mouthed. "Come here."
I slid as close to her as I possibly could, and she whispered something into my hair. Her chest strained at the effort and I knew by the vibrations what it was.
"I love you too, Rider," I said. "And you can't even imagine how much."