Outside the main farmhouse, Agnes stood staring toward the wooden gate for a long while.
George, Daniel, and several of the men in the family had already left in a hurry, with Martha going with them.
Miller Farm, which had been chaotic only moments earlier as everyone prepared to leave, soon fell quiet again.
The only sound came from the old horse beside the barn, occasionally snorting near the trough.
Agnes’s expression was grim.
She remained where she was for a while, muttering something under her breath before finally turning toward the main farmhouse.
Then, from the corner of her eye, she noticed Elena.
The girl was still standing beneath the eaves of the old orchard cottage with one hand against the stone wall, staring fixedly beyond the wooden gate.
Agnes stopped.
Perhaps she was too worried about her son, or perhaps the anxiety building inside her simply needed somewhere to go.
Either way, her expression gradually darkened as she looked at Elena.
“What are you still standing there for?”
Elena turned toward her.
The more Agnes thought about the situation, the more agitated she became, and her voice grew harsher.
“If you hadn’t wandered off on your own yesterday and managed to fall down a slope just delivering lunch, would your father have needed to leave for Greenwood before sunrise today to find a doctor?”
“And now look at this.
It’s already this late, he still hasn’t come back, and no one even knows what’s happened to him.”
Elena remained silent.
The old woman was frightened and angry.
Anything Elena said right now would probably only make matters worse.
Besides, harsh as Agnes’s words were, one part of them was technically true.
If the original Elena had not been injured yesterday, Thomas would not have needed to leave for Greenwood so early this morning.
Of course, the accident had not been her fault.
She had only been carrying lunch to the wheat fields when a runaway wagon came racing down the road.
Startled and unable to react quickly enough, she had stepped onto rain-softened ground near the edge of the slope, lost her footing, and fallen.
But Agnes was worried about her son.
She was hardly in the state of mind to think calmly about any of that.
Elena had no desire to argue with her either.
Right now, all she cared about was whether something had actually happened to Thomas.
When Agnes saw Elena standing there without answering, looking as blank as usual, she finally seemed to lose the urge to continue scolding her.
She waved impatiently.
“Enough.
Go back inside.”
“Your fever only just went down.
Don’t collapse out here and give everyone another person to look after.”
With that, she turned and went back into the main farmhouse.
The wooden door closed behind her.
Elena did not remain outside.
Her body had not recovered yet, and after standing for so long, her legs were already beginning to feel weak.
She slowly returned to her room in the old orchard cottage and sat on the edge of the bed.
The room still felt slightly damp.
The sweat from last night’s fever had not completely dried, leaving both the wool blanket and linen sheets unpleasantly clammy to the touch.
Normally, Elena would already have found a way to ask Martha to take them outside and air them in the sun.
Right now, she could not care less.
She sat quietly on the edge of the bed with her hands resting on her knees.
To anyone looking at her, she might have seemed lost in thought.
In reality, she was listening carefully for every sound outside.
Occasionally, someone crossed the farm.
From the direction of the main farmhouse kitchen came the faint sounds of Bertha cleaning.
Farther away, the autumn wind whispered through the wheat fields.
Other than that, there was nothing.
Time passed slowly.
Elena never truly relaxed.
She did not know whether Thomas had really been injured.
She did not know what George and the others would find when they reached the road outside Greenwood.
The longer she waited, the heavier the uneasiness in her chest became.
She had no idea how much time had passed when hurried, chaotic footsteps suddenly sounded across the farm.
A moment later, the wooden gate was thrown open.
Among the noise came the unmistakable sound of a woman crying.
Elena’s heart tightened.
She recognized that voice immediately.
Martha.
Without thinking, Elena rose from the bed.
She moved too quickly.
Her vision darkened for a moment, forcing her to grab the bedpost until the dizziness passed.
Then she hurried to the door and pulled it open.
Miller Farm had already erupted into chaos.
The wooden gate stood wide open.
A group of people were hurrying in from the village road.
Some were members of the Miller family, while others were villagers who had gone along to help.
Every one of them wore a grave expression.
George was at the front.
He had already looked grim when he left.
Now his face was drawn tight, his lips pressed into a hard line as he walked without saying a word.
Behind him, Daniel and several other men were carrying a makeshift stretcher.
Elena’s eyes immediately fell on it.
Her heart sank.
It really was Thomas.
“Thomas!”
Agnes’s voice suddenly rang out from the main farmhouse. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
The old woman practically rushed outside.
Her wool coat had not even been put on properly, and several strands of hair had fallen loose from the neat bun she usually wore.
For once, there was nothing stern or overbearing about her.
She stumbled toward the stretcher and grabbed its edge with both hands.
“My boy…”
Her voice broke.
“How did this happen?”
Tears ran freely down Agnes’s wrinkled cheeks, and her hands trembled uncontrollably.
Several older women who had returned with the group hurried forward to support her.
“Agnes, let them carry him inside first.”
“Someone has already gone for the doctor.”
“Don’t block the way.
Let them get Thomas settled.”
Agnes hardly seemed able to hear them.
She kept trying to move closer to the stretcher until two women gently but firmly guided her aside and cleared a path.
George had already reached a spare room beside the main farmhouse that was rarely used.
He shoved open the wooden door.
“Bring him in!”
“Careful!”
Daniel and the other men immediately carried the stretcher toward the room.
As they passed not far from Elena, she finally got a clear look at Thomas.
He lay completely motionless.
A thick, worn wool blanket covered most of his body, leaving only his head and one foot exposed.
Half-dried blood stained his forehead and the side of his face.
His hair was disheveled and stuck to his skin, while his face was so pale that there was barely any color left in it.
A visible wound marked his left temple, with dried blood trailing toward his ear.
One of his old leather boots was missing.
Even his sock was soaked dark with blood.
Elena’s brows drew together.
He was clearly badly hurt.
But those visible wounds alone were not enough to tell her how serious his condition really was.
The stretcher was quickly carried into the room.
Martha stumbled onto the farm soon afterward.
The moment Elena saw her, her heart sank even further.
Martha had been gone for only a short time, yet she looked completely different from when she had left.
Most of her neatly pinned hair had fallen loose.
Dust covered her face and skirt, her eyes were swollen red from crying, and her voice had become hoarse.
Both knees of her dress were smeared with mud, and one side had even been torn slightly, suggesting that she had fallen at least once along the way.
One of her old leather shoes was gone as well.
Only one foot was still properly shod.
The other wore nothing but a long stocking stained with dirt.
If two younger women had not been supporting her from either side, Elena suspected she might have collapsed where she stood.
“Thomas…”
Martha’s voice was barely audible.
“Let me in…”
“I need to see him…”
She struggled toward the room.
The people around them quickly gathered near the doorway, and before long the entrance was completely blocked.
Agnes’s crying, Martha’s muffled sobs, and the villagers’ hushed questions all mixed together.
The quiet farm descended into chaos.
Elena stood outside the old orchard cottage with a deep frown.
There were too many people.
If Thomas was seriously injured, having a crowd packed around the room would not help him.
But Elena had not examined him herself.
She had no idea whether there were fractures, internal bleeding, or any other dangerous injuries beyond the wounds she had seen on his head and foot.
She could not make any conclusions yet.
Just then, someone outside the crowd shouted.
“Doctor Brown is here!”
The people blocking the doorway immediately moved aside.
An older man hurried onto the farm carrying a leather medical bag.
His hair had gone mostly gray, and he was thin, but his steps were still quick and steady.
He wore an old dark brown coat, while the corners of the leather bag in his hand had been worn pale from years of use.
Elena quickly recognized him from the memories she had inherited.
Dr.
Brown.
Nearly everyone in the surrounding villages knew him.
Whenever someone developed a fever, fell ill, cut themselves while working, or was injured in an accident, Dr.
Brown was usually the person they called.
The crowd immediately made way.
Dr.
Brown did not waste time greeting anyone.
He asked only, “Where is he?” before hurrying into the room with his medical bag.
Elena watched him disappear through the doorway.
After a moment of hesitation, she instinctively moved a few steps closer.
More than anything, she wanted to know how badly Thomas was hurt.
In her previous life, she had received systematic emergency medical training. Get faster updates on g.com.
She knew how to assess common injuries, blood loss, fractures, and unconsciousness.
If Thomas had suffered nothing more than superficial wounds, there would be no reason for her to interfere.
But after seeing him unconscious and covered in blood, she could not simply ignore it.
At the very least, she needed a better look at his condition.
If there was obvious severe bleeding or some other immediate danger, perhaps she could find a way to alert Dr.
Brown.
With that thought, Elena continued toward the crowd.
She had barely started to move around the side when a sharp pain suddenly shot across her scalp.
A strong pull came from behind.
Someone had grabbed her loose hair and yanked her backward.
Elena had not been expecting it.
With her body still weak, the sudden force immediately made her stumble.
Before she could regain her balance, a hand shoved hard against her shoulder.
Elena fell backward and landed heavily on the ground.
Her palm struck the rough dirt.
A burning sting immediately spread across her skin.
Her expression darkened.
Slowly, Elena raised her head.
A heavyset middle-aged woman stood in front of her.
She appeared to be around forty and was noticeably better dressed than the other women in the Miller family.
Her dark brown dress had almost no visible patches, and over it she wore a short wool jacket that was still in fairly good condition.
Even her black leather shoes had been polished clean.
Judging from her clothes alone, she was probably one of the more particular women in the family.
But there was nothing welcoming about her expression.
She had a long face, narrow eyes, and thin lips.
Near the corner of her mouth, close to her chin, was a noticeable dark mole.
She stared down at Elena with open impatience and dislike.
The instant Elena saw her face, a sudden wave of fear rose from somewhere deep within her mind.
Her body even instinctively recoiled.
Elena froze for a moment.
That reaction was not hers.
It belonged to the original Elena.
A few blurred memories surfaced immediately afterward.
And Elena finally knew who this woman was.
The wife of the second Miller son.
A woman the original Elena had feared since childhood.
Her second aunt—
Margaret Miller.
“What are you trying to squeeze in there for?”
Margaret’s voice was sharp with irritation.
“You always have to get in the middle of everything.”
She looked down at Elena, making no attempt to hide the disgust in her eyes.
“Your father’s already hurt badly enough.
It’s chaotic in there, and you’re still trying to push your way into the crowd?”
Elena said nothing.
She simply looked up at her.
Margaret clearly failed to notice anything different in Elena’s gaze.
As far as she was concerned, this was still the same foolish girl who understood nothing and smiled stupidly at everyone.
“Stay outside and stop causing trouble.”
Then she added a warning.
“And don’t try pushing your way in again.
I’m not your mother.
I won’t indulge you in everything.”
With that, Margaret turned and squeezed back into the crowd around the doorway.
Elena remained seated on the ground.
She lowered her eyes to her palm.
The rough earth had scraped away a little skin, leaving several tiny beads of blood.
It was nothing serious.
Far more important was the instinctive fear that had surged through her body the moment she saw Margaret.
There was no reason the original Elena would have been so afraid of her without cause.
It seemed her second aunt had left more than a few unpleasant memories behind.
But this was not the time to investigate them.
Elena quickly turned her attention back toward the room.
Dr.
Brown’s voice could already be heard from inside.
“Don’t crowd around him.”
“Open the window.
We need some air in here.”
“George, leave two people to help me.
Everyone else, outside.”
At last, the crowd began to move away from the doorway.
Elena slowly pushed herself to her feet and brushed the dirt from her skirt.
Her eyes never left the open door.
Margaret could wait.
So could what had just happened.
Right now, only Thomas mattered.
There was only one thing Elena wanted to know.
Just how badly was her father hurt?