Alfonso tried to keep up with the back that had made his heart leap out of his chest, only to realize that at some point, he had been left behind, and only his heavy breathing echoed in the empty halls as he tried to find the cause of his current fear. Gone was the back of the boy—even till now Allffonso saw the young man who had long reached his age of maturity as nothing more than a boy, and his mind refused to call him anything other than that; now he stood alone under the cover of orange light that seemed to mock him more than it illuminated his life.
Things were progressing far too fast for his mind to follow, and he felt like all his hard work was slipping through his fingers like loose sand, all because he had allowed his heart to be filled with hesitancy and fear for the peasant. His mind was a mess, and all the wit and shrewdness that came with his years of experience felt like they had flown out of the window.
