Hannah sat on one side, head bowed, fiddling with her watch.
Gregory Lawrence moved closer out of curiosity and took a glance, whispering to her, "What’s this?"
"This is a watch," Hannah said.
Gregory didn’t believe her. He leaned against the stone wall, feeling cold, and slid forward a little in his seat. "Did you and Arnold Simmons have a fight that night when you went out?"
Hannah stopped what she was doing and turned to look at him.
She didn’t speak.
When she wasn’t smiling, she always gave off a sense of danger.
Like being targeted by lions and tigers.
Even furry animals have sharp claws and fangs.
Gregory touched his own nose, "Just guessing."
He really was just guessing.
In fact, that night he hadn’t been completely asleep, and heard Hannah and Arnold talk in a daze.
He didn’t hear clearly what they were saying.
But the two of them went out on their own afterward, and logic dictated it was either a fight or...
Gregory stopped thinking about it.
Hannah looked away from him, her gaze falling on Arnold.
He was hunched over, studying the map spread out on the ground with Ginny.
The firelight cast upon his face, even his drooping eyebrows and slightly pursed lips, outlined with an extraordinary depth of gentleness.
"We didn’t fight," Hannah said.
Gregory nodded, "I thought so. Arnold probably couldn’t win an argunt against you."
He had seen several tis how Hannah had left Ginny speechless and helpless.
Of course, he himself had been frustrated by Hannah more than once.
Hannah turned to look at him, her unsmiling eyes resembling the snowflakes falling outside, clean yet chilling.
But she seriously told him, "Arnold and I won’t fight."
Gregory nodded, then daringly asked, "What about physically?"
Hannah pursed her lips.
Gregory hurriedly waved his hands, "My mistake, my mistake, I won’t ask anymore."
Hannah quietly regarded him, then told him in a very sweet and soft voice, "I’d beat your skull in first."
Gregory: "..."
He should never have been so nosily talkative.
*
Sixth Hoffman had his n hurry along the road for several days.
At first, Quincy could keep up, but as ti went on, he began to suffer.
Several tis he had bouts of illness, becoming so pale it was as if his face turned into sheer paper, seemingly about to be blown away by the wind.
It scared Sixth Hoffman terribly.
"If it really becos unbearable, I’ll have so brothers take you back," Sixth Hoffman said.
He was genuinely worried.
Quincy’s health had always been poor. Just a whiff of smoke could set off a coughing fit that lasted a while; how much more now that he was traveling with them.
He shouldn’t have listened to Nicholas, letting Quincy co along.
Quincy coughed several tis, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. His face was tinged with a blush from the coughing but remained pale.
"I’m fine, don’t worry about ," he said breathlessly, his voice unsteady. "Just keep moving."
"How can we not worry!" Sixth Hoffman called for so n to spread out a waterproof blanket on the ground for Quincy to sit down. "With the way you look now, how can I be at ease continuing the journey? I told you not to co along..."
Before he could finish, soone on the side coughed and patted Sixth Hoffman on the shoulder.
Sixth Hoffman was used to being casual and spoke directly, without any malice.
But saying sothing like that now would inevitably make Quincy feel guilty.
Realizing this, Sixth Hoffman quickly stopped himself, scratching his head, sowhat embarrassedly saying, "Don’t think too much of it. I wasn’t blaming you. I’m just a bit anxious."
After all, none of them knew whether Hannah’s situation was good or bad.
Their biggest fear was that she had already crossed Mount Walters.
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