Summary: Heartbroken, Isolde returns to the beach where she found Tristan. There she collapses, and is rescued by a stranger.
Isolde trekked across the vacant beach. The frozen silence permeated her very being, making the shattering of her heart all too loud. Tears slipped from her eyes, and a wave of fatigue overcame her quickly. She continued down the beach, searching…hoping. Hoping against hope that she would find him again. A gasp escaped her lips as her sobs deepened.
She dropped to her knees, succumbing to her broken heart. Isolde stared at the open sky, clouds floating slowly over head, and listening to the waves rolling in and out…in and out. Slowly, the cold took hold of her. Isolde could no longer feel her body, but it did nothing to numb her heart. She knew there was only one solace that could comfort her. Her eyes closed and waited.
Damn him, Patrick thought angrily. He picked up a rock, and threw it towards the ocean picturing Jonah’s face in the rock. Jonah the leader of his small village and childhood friend. Well, he used to be a friend. Ever since he had been elected leader, it had gone to his head, and forgotten completely about the people who had helped him get there. Now him and his new wife were expecting their first child.
In his fury, Patrick walked quickly down the beach lost in thought. He did not see the girl until he was practically on top of her. He stared at her a moment, but he quickly realized the girl needed help. Frantically, Patrick looked around for help. There was none, he had traveled quite far in his attempt to rid himself of his anger.
Not too far off, he spotted a hut in the side of the cliff. He gently picked the girl up, and ran with her in his arms to the cottage. She was freezing cold. Inside a small pile of wood had been stacked, and the fire pit was empty of its ashes. The was soft, pliant, and slightly damp; along with the lack of ashes it suggested no one had set foot inside the small cabin in at least 10 months. Patrick pulled out his flint stone and hunting knife. Minutes later a fire blazed, heating the small room quickly. There was nothing left to do but wait now.
The light throbbing in the back of her head slowly moved forward, quickly engulfing her head in a powerful debilitating pain. She opened her eyes. Isolde slowly took in her surroundings. A small low ceiling and stone walls enclosed her. She sat up. The crashing of waves outside fully awakened her.
Suddenly, he was jerked awake upright and alert. His hand immediately reached for his knife. Isolde continued screaming as the man stood with his hand still wrapped tightly around his sleek blade. She curled in fear, throwing her hands pleadingly in the air. Tears soften her cheeks.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” he said calmly. He dropped to the ground as the girl quieted. He rotated the spear with 2 large fish on it. He hadn’t been asleep long, barely 5 minutes when the girl woke. Nevertheless, the fish were burnt faintly. Along with the fire wood that had come with the make- shift house, there were wooden plates and cups.
Patrick reached for the plate, quickly rinsing it with sea water he had collected in a small pitcher. He plopped the fish down the plate, and set it next to him. He could feel the girl watching him.
“My name’s Patrick.” he said gently. “I found you unconscious on the beach.”
She did not respond, but continued to stare.
“I promise you- I mean you no harm.” He pulled the fish apart with this fingers, putting a piece in his mouth. He pushed the plate towards her. “You should eat something.”
Isolde took the plate and ate slowly, her hunger slowly subsiding. She forced herself to think about the boy across from her. She glanced up, and his eyes caught hers’.
She smiled shyly, and reached for the plate. She place a small bit in her mouth, and her she was quickly overcome with the succulent taste of the fish. She hadn’t realized how hungry she was until the fish was gone, and she was left wanting more. Isolde placed the plate down next to, and brought her knees into her chest providing her with more warmth. She glanced at Patrick who was eating slowly. Unknowingly, she licked her lips, imagining the salty taste of the fish. She looked away when he glanced up at her.
Patrick knew she was hungry. She had eaten her helping within a matter of minutes. He knew she needed it more than he. Patrick propped himself up on his feet, still crouching, and leaned across the fire to hand her the fish. She looked up and smiled thankfully, taking the plate. He watched her as she ate. She was delicate with every piece. He felt a smile spread across his face.
“Do you have a name, miss?” he asked softly, so not to startle her.
Isolde looked up, and licked the last traces of fish from her fingers. She smiled at him.
“Yes, my name is Isolda.”
AN: Isolde does not want to be found, hence her new adopted name of Isolda.