"Fine. You're in Washington, the Olympic mountains." Corban answered. "Happy?" He twisted his wrist away from her. "You've got money; climb down the mountain and get a cab." Looking at her, he realised that she probably wouldn't make it down the mountain, even if they were pretty low down already. The walk would only take a couple hours.
"C-climb?" Suddenly, Isabelle's expression was one of total fear. It wasn't like she was the most athletic person ever... "Climb?" she said again, stepping between the boy and the entrance, her eyes pleading as they met his. "I can't just climb down a mountain! Help me!" Her lips twitched slightly. "Please..." She never had to use that word until now.
Corban scowled at her. His luck. Oh well...It couldn't be that hard to help one girl down a mountain, right? "Fine." He stuck out his hand, "My name's Corban, not Peasant."
Isabelle studied his hand for a second before glancing back up at him. What was he doing..? "I'm Princess Isabelle Rooke, future ruler of--" Oh, right. They were in 'Washing-ton.' "Call me Belle," she muttered finally, sighing, poking his hand curiously.
Corban raised his eyebrows before dropping his hand. Who'd never heard of shaking hands? "Right. Well, Princess, we only have so much daylight left." He gestured to the crack in the wall, "After you."
Isabelle nodded, biting her lip as she turned toward the opening. She glanced back just briefly at Corban uneasily, but finally steps outside, keeping close. "So, how long have I been asleep, Sir Corban?"
"I don't know; how should I?" Corban asked. This chic was weird. "It's about four in the afternoon." He followed her out, blinking in the sunlight. "This way." Without checking to see if she was following, he started down a narrow path.
"Four in the afternoon..." Isabelle repeated to herself quietly, sighing as she followed him. The trail was a bit too narrow for her liking, and she kept her eyes on the ground; she couldn't trip in front of a peasant. That would be awful for her appearance.
Corban jumped off of a ledge, falling about four feet, then turned around to help Isabelle. "This path isn't one people really use all that often, so it has a few rough bits." He warned.
Did he just... jump? Isabelle stared at Corban uncertainly. "It's hopeless," she said, shaking her head. "I can't do that... How am I supposed to just jump off like that?" That would never do. She held out her arms toward him. "Can't you carry me off this little ledge-thing instead?"
Corban looked up at her incredulously. "Why can't you just jump? It's four feet." But he reached up and lifted her down anyway.
Remembering the route he'd taken to come, he swore. He'd had to climb a sheer cliff at one point. It was a small one, with plenty of footholds, easy enough for him. But Isabelle would probaby break a leg or something.
Isabelle gasped softly as her feet hit the ground, grinning up at him. "See? That wasn't so hard." Thank goodness she had this good peasant around to help her now. What a relief.
But she frowned when he cursed. "What's wrong? You didn't hurt yourself did you?" Oh dear...
"No. We're just going to have to take the long way." Corban replied, then turned left instead of going straight forward. He cut across a stream.
"If we make good time, we should still make it to the road by dark."
Oh great. Now there was water. Isabelle was hestant once again, looking rather childish as she bent down to test the water with her fingers. "It's cold," she whined as she stood up again, her eyes pleading with Corban again. "Can't you make a bridge or something? I can't walk in this..."
Corban's eyes flicked down to her feet, and he groaned. She was wearing slippers? Those weren't going to last long on the rocky mountain. Couldn't princesses wear boots?
"Just jump, it's a tiny stream." Did she expect him to cut down a tree for her?
"We just went over this," Isabelle said, exasperated. "I'm not a good jumper. Alright? Just..." she shrugged and sighed. "Just come back and carry me across. You seem like a pretty strong guy. Besides, I'm light." And her feet were killing her; she would definitely need new shoes soon.
Corban grumbled something about useless girls, then hopped the stream again. He picked her up and carried her over, setting her down less gently than before. So much for making good time. If they continued on like this, it would be dusk before they even saw the road.
"Do you have anything you can wrap your feet in?" He asked as he started again, glancing back at her feet. She didn't seem the type to have calloused feet, and once those ballet shoes wore out, she'd be bleeding and whining.
Isabelle winced this time when he set her down; this time it hurt a little. Did he not like her? The thought made her sad, and she sniffled a little. No! She couldn't cry now! Taking a deep breath, she gulped back any more sniffles or tears that threatened. She had been disliked before. Plenty of times. It didn't matter.
"No, I don't," she said, wincing at how upset her voice sounded. Now she just kept her mouth shut; what was the point of talking anyway...
"I have a knife, you could probably cut a foot or two off of that nightgown and use that." It was a somewhat flimsy material, so it would need to be wrapped several times, but it would be better than nothing.
A knife. Did this guy seriously trust her with a knife? Isabelle shook her head, though she knew he couldn't see. "No," she muttered blankly. "I am fine, Sir Corban."