Chapter 2: Lost in the Shadows of Silver Hollow

The day of the Ridge Run arrived. The autumn wind was sharp. Harrison, dressed in dark riding gear with a silver belt, lifted his chin on horseback, drawing every eye.

He looked every bit the part—confident, commanding. The kind of man people followed. I felt invisible next to him.

Not far away were his brother, Preston, and Preston’s wife.

They were picture-perfect, all smiles and easy grace. I felt like a shadow beside their light.

A perfect couple. So beautiful together it was almost obnoxious.

Even the horses seemed to sense it, tossing their heads with pride.

Standing beside Harrison’s horse, I could practically hear his teeth grinding.

He watched Preston and Charlotte like a man starving at a feast he couldn’t touch.

Of course—Preston’s wife, Charlotte, was his unattainable dream, the one he’d pined for all along.

It was obvious to anyone paying attention. The longing in his eyes was impossible to miss.

I had no desire to get tangled up in their love triangle. I lifted my dress, ready to slip away, but Harrison pulled me up to sit in front of him.

His grip was firm. No room to argue. I bit back a sigh and settled in.

I asked, “Isn’t this a little cramped?”

My voice was dry, but he ignored the sarcasm.

Harrison squinted at me, annoyed. “What, you know how to ride?”

He sounded almost hopeful. Like he was hoping I’d say yes and spare him the trouble.

I shook my head. “No.”

I kept my answer short, not wanting to give him ammunition.

At that, he suddenly smiled, as if he’d caught me in a lie. “I’ve heard girls from Maple Heights are delicate. Didn’t expect you couldn’t even ride a horse.”

His smirk was infuriating, but I held my tongue.

Well, no one ever taught me.

I’d spent my childhood dodging trouble, not learning to ride.

The only horses I met on the road as a runaway—I ended up eating.

Preston and Charlotte galloped off. Harrison, not to be outdone, spurred our horse after them.

He was determined to keep up. Pride burning in his eyes. I clung to the saddle, bracing myself for the ride.

I understood—he really wanted to show off in front of his beloved, but couldn’t bring himself to approach her directly, so he used me as a prop to save face.

I became part of the scenery, a convenient excuse for his bravado.

The ride was so bumpy, I suspected he was trying to shake me off. But when he saw me sitting steady, he grew suspicious.

He kept glancing back, as if waiting for me to fall. I gritted my teeth and held on.

He asked, “You really can’t ride?”

There was a note of disbelief in his voice, like he didn’t want to believe me.

Before I could answer, I heard Charlotte’s laughter in the distance.

Her laugh was light, musical—a sound that seemed to carry on the wind.

She sat atop a snow-white horse, smiling as Preston presented her with a deer he’d hunted. Like something out of a fairy tale.

They looked like something out of a storybook. I felt invisible, and I was grateful for it.

Of course, Harrison couldn’t sit still after that.

His jealousy was palpable, simmering just beneath the surface.

Sure enough, he suddenly leaped off the horse and ran toward Charlotte.

He left me behind without a second thought. I watched him go, feeling oddly relieved.

The sun was blazing. I carefully dismounted, found a patch of shade, and sat down to rest.

The grass was cool beneath my legs. I leaned back against a tree, letting my mind wander.

The rustling of the leaves and the breeze made me drowsy. I vaguely heard Harrison challenge Preston to a contest, but my eyelids grew heavy and I drifted off.

Sleep came in fits and starts. Memories flickered at the edges of my mind.

In my dreams, I was back in those three years of wandering—from Maple Heights to the city, through three springs and autumns. Five in my family, and in the end, only I survived.

Faces blurred by time, voices echoing in the dark. The ache of loss was sharper in sleep than in waking.

During those years, I ate bugs and weeds, climbed fences, escaped from creeps, and finally made it to the city by the skin of my teeth.

Every day was a fight for survival. I learned to run. To hide. To fight when I had to.

I almost died in the biggest snowstorm the city had ever seen.

I remember the cold, the way it seeped into my bones. I’d given up hope that night, until headlights cut through the darkness.

Thankfully, someone from the Langley household found me and brought me back—I owed my life to that.

Mrs. Langley was an angel in that moment. Her face—the first kindness I’d seen in years.

Mrs. Langley said I looked like Victoria, that it was a blessing. She kept me by her side for two years.

She dressed me in fine clothes, taught me how to walk and speak like a lady. It was a strange new world.

Later, she asked if I was willing to go to Silver Hollow as part of a family alliance.

She made it sound like an honor, but I knew better. Still, I listened.

I asked her why.

The question slipped out before I could stop it.

She said, “So that no one in Maple Heights will ever have to wander homeless like you again.”

Her words hit me harder than I expected. For a moment, I let myself believe it could be true.

I didn’t understand. Could a single marriage really bring peace to a whole community?

It sounded like a fairy tale, but I wanted to believe her.

But I agreed anyway.

What else could I do? I owed her my life.

If it meant, as she said, that no one else would have to suffer as I had… that would be wonderful.

The hope in her eyes was contagious. I nodded. Sealed my fate.

Cold dew fell on my eyelids, waking me with a start. The sky was already dark, the last golden rays barely clinging to the mountaintop. Harrison and the others were nowhere to be seen.

Panic fluttered in my chest, but I forced myself to breathe. I was used to being alone.

The world was silent. Only then did I realize—I had no idea how to get back.

I scanned the horizon, searching for any sign of life. Nothing but shadows and distant trees.

Mrs. Langley had promised that if I married into the Whitmores, I’d never go hungry again.

I snorted at the memory. Promises were easy to make, harder to keep.

Clearly, that wasn’t entirely true.

My stomach rumbled. Reality.

With night falling and no way to return, I decided to find something to eat first.

I’d learned to prioritize—food came before everything else.

Stomach growling, I chased a rabbit for what felt like miles before finally catching it.

I moved quietly, every step calculated. Old habits die hard.

Just as I’d built a fire and roasted the rabbit, a wild boar came out of nowhere. Overturned my fire. Ran off with my dinner.

I cursed under my breath, watching my hard-earned meal disappear into the woods.

Furious, I grabbed a fallen branch and gave chase.

Adrenaline surged through me. I wasn’t about to let some pig ruin my night.

Honestly, I didn’t expect anyone else to show up. Not like this.

I was sweaty, dirty, and hungry—not exactly the picture of a proper bride.

But, to my surprise, Harrison came back looking for me.

His voice echoed through the trees. Sharp with worry. I almost didn’t recognize it.

He called out as I plunged my pocketknife into the wild boar’s neck, its blood spraying across my face.

I froze, knife in hand, meeting his stunned gaze across the clearing.

I saw Harrison lower his hunting rifle, stunned into silence.

For a moment, we just stared at each other, both of us too shocked to speak.

After a long moment, he seemed to recover, tossing aside his gun and walking over.

He moved quickly, his boots crunching on the leaves. I braced myself for a lecture.

“Why did you go so far? Why didn’t you wait where you were?” he demanded, brows furrowed, though his voice was soft.

There was real concern in his eyes, but he tried to hide it behind a scowl.

I wiped my face, answering flatly, “I was hungry. I had to find food.”

My words were matter-of-fact. Hunger always trumps pride.

“You…” He choked, then apologized, “Sorry, I… forgot you were still there.”

The apology caught me off guard. I studied his face, searching for sarcasm, but found none.

He actually apologized to me. That was rare.

I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had said sorry to me. It felt strange.

“It’s fine,” I said. “See? I’m perfectly okay.”

I tried to sound reassuring, but my voice came out flat.

He looked me over, taking in the scrapes and dirt, clearly doubting my words.

His eyes lingered on the blood drying on my hands. I shrugged. Pretended not to notice.

Exhausted, I plopped down, picked up the now-cold rabbit meat, and started eating right in front of him.

I tore off a piece with my teeth, savoring the salty, smoky flavor. Hunger made everything taste better.

Harrison snatched it away. “Don’t eat that—it’s dirty.” Like I’d never eaten worse.

He tossed the meat aside, scowling. I rolled my eyes, too tired to argue.

I thought, You have no idea. I’ve eaten far worse.

If only he knew the half of it. I could survive on less than this.

“Harrison,” I said, tired, looking him in the eye, “I’m starving. Can’t I at least eat something? Even if you hate me, you can’t just watch me starve to death…”

I let my voice break, just a little. Maybe he’d finally get it.

“I’m not…” His voice softened. “I meant, let’s eat when we get back.”

He sounded almost gentle, as if he cared. I blinked, thrown off by the change.

I really didn’t have the strength to argue, so I gave in.

I nodded, letting him take charge for once.

“Let’s go,” I said.

He helped me onto the horse, his movements much gentler than before.

His hands lingered at my waist, steady and warm. I tried not to read into it.

The horse ran fast, but not as rough as last time.

The ride was smoother. Almost comfortable. I leaned back. Let myself relax.

I was so tired and sleepy, I just wanted to pass out, but Harrison kept talking to me.

His voice was low, almost soothing. I listened, half-dreaming.

He said, “You seem pretty skilled.”

There was a grudging admiration in his tone. I smirked. Hid my surprise.

I replied half-heartedly, “Just average.”

I shrugged, not wanting to brag.

“I really didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

He sounded almost guilty. I glanced at him, wondering if he meant it.

“Mm.”

I didn’t trust myself to say more.

“I was wrong to treat you badly before.”

His words hung in the air. Heavier than I expected.

“It’s fine.”

I tried to brush it off, but my voice was softer than usual.

“I just hate that our families treat marriages like business deals. I know it’s not your fault. I know you probably didn’t want this either…”

He trailed off, voice rough. I felt a pang of sympathy.

That woke me up. I quickly corrected him, “No, I wanted to.”

I straightened, meeting his eyes head-on.

“What?” Harrison was stunned.

He stared at me, disbelief written all over his face.

Marrying him meant peace for both families, a safe home for the people of Maple Heights.

It was the truth, even if it sounded strange coming from me.

I said, “Marrying you was my choice.”

I let the words hang there, letting him see how much I meant it.

Harrison’s arm, wrapped around me, suddenly stiffened.

He went quiet, the silence stretching between us.

After a while, he muttered into the wind. “Well, I still won’t love you.”

His words were sharp, but there was a tremor in his voice. I almost smiled.

…

Ridiculous.

The thought echoed in my mind, but I let it go. Some things weren’t worth fighting about.

After the hunt, Harrison, feeling guilty, stopped making things difficult for me. Sometimes we’d bicker, but the days just slipped by.

We found a rhythm, of sorts. Not happiness, exactly. But something like peace.