Ophelia leaned against a tree with Dante lying on her lap. Ester left after helping to carry Dante to the shade.
Ophelia felt as though time was moving slowly since Dante fell from the horse, but she knew it was only the loneliness making her feel this way. She brushed Dante's hair with her fingers, hoping it would ease him of whatever he faced in the moment.
Ophelia kept looking around to see if anyone was approaching them. She was most concerned about the wrong person stumbling upon them when Dante was not awake to defend them.
"Of all the times to forget my knife," Ophelia muttered.
Ophelia peered down upon Dante. She wished to know what happened and what he felt right now.
Was Dante in pain, or was he merely sleeping, not knowing that she was worried about him?
The thought crossed Ophelia's mind that Dante might be closer to turning into the beast than he thought.
