The rickety wagon, cracked against the dirt and rock ridden road. Alerting me of Arthur's arrival. A pair of horses walked with raised heads, taking their time on the worn terrain.

I stood at the edge of our road, eagerly waiting. The closer he got the harder I held the bucket to my chest. I could feel my hands strain with pent up anger, but the longer he took the more I was able to calm down.

But when he finally pulled up dust blew up and into my face as he slowed his horses to a standstill, the dirt coating my face refueled my anger and I started to glare.

"Good morning." He leaned over, face beaming, clearly clueless to the signal that I was trying to send him. It was probably because his dark hair hung in front of his eyes. With a quick sweep of his hand, he brushed the hair away and looked down at me.

I narrowed my eyes even more, hoping that he would get the message. As soon as he met my eyes, his face turned sheepish and he pulled away a little. "I guess they told you." He said nervously, wrapping the reins around his hand.

"Something like that." I said sharply.

He nodded and reached his hand out. "Would you like a ride up?"

I huffed and grabbed his hand, pulling myself up. I sat beside him on the old chipped seat and his tongue clicked, sending the horses forward. I shot backyard with the sudden jerk and quickly straighten myself in the seat.

He glanced at me before looking back at the road ahead of him. "What happened?" He asked, care standing at the forefront of his words.  He had always been like this, careful not to set me off.  Careful not to rub anyone the wrong way really.  That's why it was hard to be angry at him, this couldn't have been his idea.

I sighed, becoming relatively calm again. "Mum told me at dinner, without any warning." I spoke, looking down at the metal bucket, a blurred reflection looking back up at me. I could barely make out my brown hair.

"Sounds like someone else I know." He mumbled.

I rolled my eyes and looked at him. "That's not funny."

"Sorry I couldn't help it." He said, trying to hold back a smile.

"Sure." I monotoned back at him then continued to explain. "We were all sitting down for family dinner, and she made her crisp bread. Which should have been my first clue because there's nothing else that she would be excited about."

"Well, what about the festival coming up? Doesn't she make it every year for that." He questioned; his eyes glued to the road. He pulled the reins back and stopped in front of the barn next to our house. Better prepared I was able to balance out the pull from the wagon and could continuing sitting upright.

"Yes." I told him, climbing down from the wagon. While it was true that mum made the dense dough every year for the local fall festival, I hadn't considered it because, "But she doesn't make that until the day of the festival."

He nodded and hopped down, starting to dismount the one horse from the wagon. "Okay. So, you're upset that she sprung it on you."

My fingers nimbly starting to dismount the other horse. "Yes, exactly."

"So, it wouldn't have been so bad if you were told beforehand?"

"Yes..." I started, but then my stomach started to squirm, that would have made me less angry; but that wasn't the problem. "I would have liked for her to have told me, but I would rather pick who I'm going to marry."

After detaching the horses from the wagon, we led them over to the barn where they could stay for the time being. I quickened my pace trying to keep up with his long strides.

"You have to do everything the hard way." He said, laughing a little.

I scoffed insincerely. "What's wrong with marrying someone you love?"

"Nothing." He told me as we entered the old barn, new planks covering the left side as the old wood had rotted away. Cracks in the roof gave way to the rain, and organized buckets were there to catch the drops. Hopefully the roof would be attended to by the end of the week but plans always went up in the air around here. "I just..."

We placed the horses into a couple of empty stalls, and he continued. "I'm sorry that I put you through this. My father was the one who agreed." He looked at me with lowered brows. "I only agreed because I want to respect my fathers wishes." He told me sighing, I could have sworn he was going to say something else, and it piqued my interest. I opened my mouth to ask what it was, but he didn't give me the chance. "But if you're really against it then I'll ask father to call it off."

My eyes widened. "Are you serious." I grabbed his shoulder and he looked at me and then everywhere else, uncomfortable with me staring. "Why would I lie to you."

I smiled and nodded, brushing a bundle of loose hair back behind my ear. "Thank you." I told him honestly.

He nodded, and his gazed reached my hand, still clinging to his shoulder. "Liz." His eyes narrowed as he examined it.

"Yeah?" I asked looking over at my hands, quickly remembering that there might still be blood on them. What he said only confirmed that he noticed. "Why is there unicorn blood on your hand?"

I pulled my hand away from him, fumbling with my words. I was confused. How did he know that it was blood? "This," I pointed nonchalantly at my hand. "isn't unicorn blood." At least that part was true.

He looked at me suspiciously, like he didn't quite believe me. "Then what is it?"

I stood there for a moment, trying to think of what it could be. "Iron beetle." I blurted, internally cringing at the horrendous lie. My heartbeat quickened and I could feel my stomach start to churn. "They're taking over the corn field." I furthered, making my heart go faster and my mind yearn to tell him the truth. But I wasn't sure if I should. He's had my back for a lot of my adventures, but I don't know if he would for this.

Disbelief filled his face and then he shook it off with a shake of his head. "Okay." He spoke. "I'll believe you."