The Fateful Heart

James's eyes flicked back to her, catching her expression. He looked away partially in thought and half out of embarrassment (and he wasn't sure why he felt embarrassed in the first place). He found himself grinning, but it wasn't proud.

"Probably... oh, I don't know. Fourteen maybe. I was very eager to prove myself back then."

Evaline tilted her head, noticing that James kept looking away in what looked to be a shamed expression. Maybe something happened when he was fourteen? She wasn't sure if this was something she should ask.

"Mmm," she agreed, nodding. "I think we all tried to prove ourselves in one way or another at that age." She paused. "What were you trying to prove?"

James stared out into the forest, quickly trying to think of an answer that would suffice, but not lead to more questions.

He scratched the back of his neck.

They weren't playing the game, but he'd still promised to be more honest, right? He still got to choose how much he said, and how he said it, and when. But all of a sudden it was a lot harder when he was actually faced with it in reality, not in theory.

"I--" he sighed. "That's a good question. A lot of things, really. But I think more than anything I just wanted to prove that I was capable. That I could be good at things. That I could make something of myself. I don't think I knew what that meant at the time."

Evaline wasn't really sure what she was expecting, but it wasn't that answer. She thought, maybe at fourteen, he was worried about fitting in, or peer pressure, or becoming skilled. Having to strive to prove you were capable at fourteen seemed like a burden.

She was starting to think James didn't have much of a childhood. Maybe he grew up too fast.

And maybe this was a tough topic to talk about. She didn't want him to think through things he wouldn't be comfortable talking about.

"Well. I think you've proved it more than enough now," she said in an attempt to steer the conversation back to lighthearted territory. "Being capable and good at things, I mean. At least... when living out in nature. You've certainly helped me survive with your knowledge."

She flashed him a soft smile to show her sincerity, because even though this topic only came up in an attempt to lighten the mood, she really did mean the gratitude. She didn't think she said it enough.

James laughed a little at that, but her turned to look at her and met her eyes, just for a second.

“Well, I’m glad I was able to help somebody else with all of it. Instead of just myself.”

"Me too," she said through a smile, but it faded as she thought of what he said.

She remembered asking him so many weeks ago if he believed in fate, and he said yes. She briefly talked about it in the erased memory when he found the note for the first time, but it hadn't come up again.

Evaline believed in fate too, but only loosely, because things could be changed. She had to wonder, though. Was it truly fate that brought her to James? Were they only friends because fate wanted them to be friends? Would they even be friends if it wasn't for fate, or this note, or because she was helpless?

She thought about the very first day, magically finding herself repeating the same beaten down path and getting herded with wolves, only to find herself meeting James for the first time, and never encountering those peculiar circumstances again.

It made her wonder if something bad were to happen if they did separate. There wasn't really a way to test this theory except to do exactly that, which she was going to do tomorrow. She could only hope that the note has evolved enough to no longer play these silly games.

Their conversation died down as the night went on, and eventually, they went on to sleep in shifts as usual. James slept first, and Evaline second.

He decided to do what she asked, and when enough hours had passed during his shift and he'd done as many things as he could think to do, he finally pulled out his harmonica.

He started playing as softly as he could. Controlling the volume was a bit of a challenge with a harmonica, but he muted the sound as much as he could with his palm and continued to play softly. This time, he didn't play a song he knew from home or a song he'd written. He just played, trying to find a melody that felt befitting of the night air, the crackling fire, and a friend and his horse sleeping closeby.

Before the sunrise, James put the harmonica away and started shifting things around in the saddlebags slowly and quietly, preparing to empty one bag into the other, so Evaline could go into town with a bag mostly empty. They still had a little way to walk, but they were close. They'd hit the town by early morning.

The sun was starting to creep over the horizon as James pulled the now over-stuffed bag shut, adjusting it on the saddle so it was as balanced as he could manage. He took off his shoes and put the one in need of repair in the one he'd be sending with her.

When he looked back, Evaline was already getting up, and they quickly went about their morning routine.

He was mindful to make sure her braid looked as nice as possible since he knew she would be around people, and they ate breakfast quickly. He could tell Evaline seemed jittery with excitement.

When everything that could be done was done, James grabbed Elliot's lead line and untied it from the tree, gesturing for Evaline to follow.

"Do you remember the plan we discussed yesterday?" he asked.

Evaline nodded eagerly as she followed James, feeling a newfound confidence in herself now that they were so close to the town. She was eager to prove that she could be of use to James, but she was also generally excited about going to civilization. Last time, she gawked at everything. She'd be more careful now, but she knew she'd have to deliberately hold everything in because this was just so new and exciting.

"Find the nearest street vendor. Ask for the sheriff's office. Follow their directions. Ask for the sheriff, and ask if they're looking for a sketch artist. Do the work, get paid, buy the items, return to you. That about sums it up, right?"

James looked to Evaline with a nod, but he couldn't help but feel nervous. There were a million things that could go wrong, and staying behind made him feel helpless to help her if something did happen while she was away.

But he took a deep breath.

"Yes," he said, before stopping.

They had stepped out of the forest into a clearing, but this one wasn't formed by nature. It was a man-made dirt road with the grooves of wagon wheels and hoof-prints matting down the dirt from regular use. In the distance, they could see a little wooden sign sticking out of the ground pointing west, towards the town. James took his map out of his pocket and double-checked it, just in case, but he didn't have to. He knew where they were.

He tried to quell the nerves stirring in his stomach as he grabbed the now-empty saddle-bag (apart from his broken shoe) off the saddle and handed it to Evaline.

"Just remember to keep your eyes and ears open. This road leads right into the town, and you'll take it back to meet me. I'm going to go further back into the cover of the forest, but remember that sign, and the way in which you came. You can find me just of the path, and I'll wait for you until you return."

He paused, looking up and down the road. No one was in sight just yet, but he wanted to be quick.

"But if for any reason you don't come back before nightfall, I will come to look for you. Okay?"

Evaline strapped the saddle bag across her chest, and with the bag and the sign in front of her, she was starting to feel thrilled. Sure, she liked traveling with James, but this was going to be a nice change of scenery. She didn't mind going by herself, either; it would be nice to take all of this in without James breathing down her neck to not look or speak to anyone or anything.

She looked at the sign, then at the road, then back at the sign to make sure to burn it in her mind so she could reference it when she came back. Woodhearst, the sign read. She was so busy mentally preparing for all this, she never bothered asking James what the name of the town was. Woodhearst.

"Don't worry," she said through a smile she couldn't repress. "I'll come back with the supplies we need."

She started walking down the road, feelings of strong independence washing over her as she didn't hear James or Elliot trot by her side.

Before she could get too far, she turned around and gave James a saluting wave, followed by a grin. "I'll see you in a few hours," she said, turning back around to follow the road to Woodhearst.

The road was maybe a mile long, but it didn't take her long to reach the town. When she did, she found herself pausing for just a second to admire everything. James was right; this was a bigger town than they went to, and it showed. The buildings were a bit bigger and more maintained, the roads were wider, people of all walks of life were on the streets, horses carrying wagons were riding up and down, and it was colorful. There were paintings on some buildings and blooming flowers on the sidewalks, the people were wearing brighter clothes. She only hoped that her own dingy clothes wouldn't make her stand out.

Remembering that she had to fit in, Evaline continued walking, careful to not look at anyone or anything with the attention of more than a casual glance. It was hard to do, especially when people passed her and she wanted to admire them from afar. It was true that she didn't particularly love drawing, but the habits of observation were so engrained in her, and at this point, she felt like she could recreate James from memory just from the amount of quiet observations she had done. She didn't realize how people-deprived she was until she had to actively ignore new people passing by, and a quick glance didn't do her memory justice.

Find a street vendor, she could hear James screaming in her mind. She sighed. Even without him here, it seemed like he was still breathing down her neck at all times.

She looked around and saw a small stand selling what looked to be cabbages. It was a bit odd he was by himself, but she saw no harm in approaching.

"Excuse me," she said to the man as she got closer.

He looked up from his glasses and then down at her. "How may I help you, ma'am?"

"I'm looking for the sheriff's station. Can you point me in the right direction?"

"Certainly," he said, pointing to his right. "Follow that road, take a left at the intersection, keep walking, and it'll be on your right. Says 'sheriff' right on the front. You can't miss it."

"Okay. Thanks!" Evaline said with a smile, and she started back down the road. First task, done.

She continued to pass some more people, and even overheard some conversations. Something about being late, something about money, something about shopping... It was interesting to hear trivial things being talked about, for once.

Following the man's orders, she took a left at the intersection and passed by many shops, but she didn't have time to look at them. It looked like many were just opening, too. Some street vendors were setting up shop as well. She made a mental note to come back here when finished, but she kept her eyes forward, looking out for the sheriff's office.

Finally, she saw it, and it was exactly what the man said: there was a big sign on the front that said 'sheriff' on it, and the building was separated from the rest of the other shops, looking more secure.

Taking a deep breath to dispel any anxiety that may creep up, Evaline walked up to the building and opened the door. She was greeted with someone behind a desk.

"What can I do for ya today?" the older man said.

"I'm looking for the sheriff," she said, quickly glancing around. There was a hallway to the back, but other than that, this looked like a waiting room.

"Why, may I ask?" he said, looking at her with curious eyes. "Got a crime to report? You can just tell me and I can get that settled for ya."

"No no," she said, shaking her head, but offering an apologetic smile. "I'm a sketch artist. I was wondering if the sheriff had work I could do."

"Oh! Well, why didn't ya say so? Let me go get him. Stay right here, I'll be right back," he said with a smile, walking down the hallway.

"Okay," she said softly, but he was already gone.

So far so good.

The assistant came back and hurried back to his desk, and a man of average height entered the back doorway. He was stout, and looked to be in his mid-30s, and his hair was thinning and whispy, desperately clinging to his almost nonexistent hairline.

He wore a clean white button-up and a brown vest tucked into pants of a different shade, a thick belt, and pointed-toe boots. Under his arm, he had what looked like a stack of papers. He smiled warmly at Evaline, giving her a quick look up and down.

“A sketch artist, I hear? Well lucky for you, crime doesn’t seem to rest. I could use you for a few posters. ‘Course, I’d want to see what you can do, first. What’s your name, miss?” he asked, gesturing to a table at the edge of the room, opposite the assistant’s desk. It looked like it might’ve been used for a lot of things, but at the moment it was clear, except for a few scuff marks.

Evaline forced a warm smile, but really she was exhaling a sigh of relief that they were looking for a sketch artist. This certainly made things easier.

Then the sheriff asked for her name, and she began to panic, just a little. She hadn't thought about alternative names. How did she not think of this? She had to think fast.

She walked over to the area he gestured at and sat down on one of the chairs next to the table.

"Evelyn," she said as if she had said it a million times before. She mentally facepalmed herself for picking a name that was so similar to her own, but at least this meant that she would remember to look up if she was called.

"If you supply the pencils and papers, I'd be happy to show you a sample of my work before I get started," she said. "I can quickly draw someone you have in mind. Or you, if you want."

“Oh, sure, sure,” The sheriff said. He walked over to her and leaned on the corner of the table, setting down the stack of papers. It looked like a stack of posters - some weathered and aged - but on top was a stack of clean, blank papers of similar dimensions. He pulled a page off the top and placed it down in front of her.

He pulled a pencil out of his pocket and placed it down as well.

“I’ve got to grab a few more things, but how about you draw Jeremy,” the sheriff said. He looked back at the assistant and waved for him to come over, patting the table and pointing to the chair across from Evaline.

Jeremy obediently got up and sat down, but it looked like he brought a book and a pencil with him as he sat down.

“And of course,” the sheriff continued. “I’m Sheriff Brooks. I’ll be back in a few minutes, I just need to wrap up a few things. Jeremy here will keep you company as you draw him.”

And with that, the sheriff went back the way he came, through the door. It looked like it led into a hall.

Jeremy watched as Brooks left before looking over at Evaline.

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve been dragged into getting a portrait drawn before,” he said, looking back down at his book. He started writing while talking. It looked like a bunch of numbers. Bills, maybe. “He joked about turning one into a poster, once, but we never did, of course. I’m not a criminal.”

Evaline nodded with each passing word from Sheriff Brooks, and she took a blank sheet of paper on top and twirled the pencil in her hand. If a drawing turned out bad, she'd sometimes joke and say it was because of the pencil. Sometimes it was hard to get used to ones with a different weight, width, and length.

She zoned out of her surroundings and began to sketch Jeremy like he was one of modelers when she took drawing classes. It had been a while since she was in one, but it happened so often, it still felt natural to her.

...Except, she wasn't used to the model talking to her. She didn't even like small talk to begin with, but just like how James had different identities with different personalities, she felt like she should do the same with sketch artist Evelyn.

"Would you like me to make you look like a criminal?" she said to him as a half-attempt of a joke as she continued sketching, looking up every once in a while to reference his face. "I can gave you a certain expression, if you want. Or you can pose it."

Please just pose, she begged in her mind.

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. “How about I just pose by looking at my book here and keep being productive,” he said, angling his head just a little bit down so he could view it confortably without his face being completely hidden. “This good?”