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Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“Yes!” she shouts back, bent over the saddlehorn. One curve, another, a thin branch she barely ducks — and there he is, tall and straight in the saddle, black hair glinting in the sunlight. He’s pulled up, obviously hearing her pounding approach, and she just barely manages to keep the two horses from crashing into one another.
“Summer?!”
“Edward!” He seizes her in a crushing hug, all but lifting her off the back of her horse.
The knight slows his horse to a stop a few meters from the two of them, watching them for a moment with hesitation.
The siblings are oblivious for a few moments to the knight’s presence. Edward takes Summer by the shoulders, holding her firmly, away from him. “Winter — she’s fine, she’s fine! — but she — there was a trouble — ” He turns a bit red in the face.
“Edward, please just tell me.” Her voice cracks a bit.
“She lost the baby.”
“Wha—when?”
He grips her shoulders tighter. “Last night. Father didn’t want to send for you and have it be nothing. We thought it was nothing. She’s fine, Summer! She’s fine.”
In a quick movement, Summer frees herself from Edward’s grip, turning away. Her face is pale against the flaming backdrop of her hair, and she looks at Mordred as though her world has somehow come apart.