"Thank you."

The pastry upon the plate in front of me is no longer steaming, the crumbs of bread previously eaten on the side. I can't remember the last time I ate a pastry- we were often too poor to afford one. Much less homemade, the ingredients more costly than the pastry itself. I lift the pastry, peeking at the red filling hidden behind the flakes as I begin to lift it to my mouth. I remember now, Feyion's last birthday. We had saved our extras all year long in preparation for everyone to buy a pastry. It was delicious, though stale, and cost a tin per two people. Fresh and well-baked ones were oft to cost a copper...though a moderate town the trade demanded that the sellers become more covet for cash. We could never afford a silver for anything- in fact, the first silver I ever spent was on a damn bard, and only the day after did I realize I gave him the only silver I had in my possession within this lifetime. Close I would have been to tears if not for the fact that I was being provided for.

"Well, eat boy. I don't make food for you to look at." Serna's voice is kind but firm, a balance that I'm sure came from her years of authority. I look up at her, who looks me in my eyes in turn as she sits down. Her eyes are also a dark brown, and her hair in a bun that bobs on the back of her head as she sits. The chair creaks as she shifts to grab her cup of sheep's milk.

"Ahh, yes, sorry. I was just thinking."

She equally ignores my apology and excuse. "Eat," She urges me, "You'll need food to help your body recover." Harold has no problems eating next to her, biting into his third pastry as his wife takes hers in hand beside him. The sound of them eating is the only one in the household.

I bite into the soft pastry, my hunger killing sense as the heat of the steaming food hits my mouth and tongue. The soft pain couldn't take away from the flavor of the pastry itself I find, opening my mouth slightly as I chew to cool the food. The soft sweetness of the filling coats my tongue, the thickness of the filling keeping the flavor around, and making it more enjoyable as I chew. The bread is warm enough to simply melt with the filling, and as I chew I forget the heat that seared me. It's delicious.

It's one of the best things I've tasted in months.

As I take another bite of the pastry I let it feel my mouth again, sighing in the comfort of the experience. The sounds of breakfast, so few people, and the smell of food in the air is relaxing as I eat. Chewing, I look up and to my right, into Serna's eyes looking at me. I look back, which now seems to be a common occurrence. She licks a pastry off her lips before she speaks as I chew contently, happy to simply have food.

"You not must get many cooked meals like this, traveling along the roads with your Aunt."

Her eyes are imploring, and now I understand why she cooked for me- to learn. She is being polite, which would make it impolite of me to not respond to her questions. "No, we don't. Most of the things we eat on the roads are just games we catch as we travel. Meat mostly, though we can come across a berry bush." It makes sense. She is part of a village council, and they don't appear to often get travelers. In a way, the more she knows the better her village is.

She nods, reaching for her cup of sheep's milk. This is the first time I've had sheep's milk. I must say that I rather like it. It doesn't taste the same, but the flavor is fine and the milk itself is smoother. "That's not a good meal to have every day. I hope you can find some more healthy foods in your stay here." I take another bite. "For your future trips of course."

Harold stops his chewing for a moment to join in on the conversation. He seems to be a hungry man. "Ah, would that I could eat as you do lad. The wife here, she tends to keep meats away from me, and a man does need his meat. All ya hear is to eat this an' that, though lovely she is." His foreign accent is heavier this morning, as is his dialect. He smiles at his wife, full of mirth. Her smile is fainter and more severe in turn, but still a smile. First I've seen on her face. "Though I suppose she's bound to be right some of the time."

Her tone turns into a slight scold. "Should I let you eat as you wanted, you would be a cow on two legs! You should be happy that I keep you healthy, as heavy as you are already! You have to eat more than just meat old fool."

Placing another piece of pastry into his mouth with a smirk he gave a "hrmph" and chewed it down, his wife smiling softly. I watch them the way they interact with different personalities and yet seem to love each other so much. Her sternness is at odds with his calm and continuous sense of ease. It's nice to see something so pure.

As I finish my last pastry, I watch him finish his own. I don't wish to insult the people that have fed me, but my curiosity has too little restraint. His accent and words are foreign, too foreign to be close to here. Yet he's in the middle of the country outside of Karan borders, living his life far from a city or Grand River. How did he get out of here? And beyond that, why would he stay? The life of a traveler should be better than some farmers on the plains. As I lift my cup of sheep's milk, I can't resist asking. "Harold," He looks up at me, chewing contently on his pastry as I inquire, "You're not Karan are you?"

He chuckles. "No lad, I'm not."

"Then where are you from?"

Harold chuckled again, then took himself a drink of sheep's milk before he answered. "I'm from Carhah, the East World you'd call it."

The East World? "The East World?" That's months of travel. It took me three or four weeks just to make it to the Watch, and the East world is far away. I can't imagine traveling that far to come here. "That's far from here....why did you come here at all? How did you get here?"

Harold nods with a smile like he's amused. Thinking of it, this is the most I've said since I've gotten here. These are the people I've felt the most at ease with so far, and these are also the people that have caused me the most physical pain. Maybe it's that they've fed me, or that they have remained the only ones I've talked to. I'll remember to keep myself quieter from now on. Harold continues despite my internal musings. "When I was a lad round your age, a man by right, I wanted to do what you're doing now; go out and explore the world with abandon. Thought it'd be the tale of a hundred lifetimes, and I was an antsy lad back in Carhah. My father was a merchant, made the most money in the family, and kept the business goin'. Wasn't the most caring dad, tried to get what he wanted through us often, too often. Wanted to get what he wanted, this thing of control.

He took me out on one of his trips, and we sailed down the great river. Took me to the Karan capital, and it was beautiful, aye. Looked nice, but I was just a lad who wanted to enjoy himself. My father, eh, he didn't have the same idea." As he continued with the story, his accent got heavier and the emotion in his voice deepened. "No one else in the family much cared for me either, and I was the middle child. Didn't much care to stay." He nodded at me, lifting his cup in my direction. "So I left. Ran myself away from the city, straight into the open plains." He shook his head, almost laughing at himself. His eyes looked into his cup, reminiscing. His wife stood, grabbing our bowls and cups as she began to clean. I offer to help her, but she silently declines. "Sure you know lad, but these roads are dangerous. Too often did I find myself running to keep my hide. Sure you've had your moments, eh? Ran myself right to this little village here, hurt and tired and ragged. Thought myself a lad that could've just walked out into the world and took it on. " Serna came back now, and he looks at her kindly, memories showing through his eyes. "And I met here her, she fixed me up well. And I didn't want to leave." He looks back at me now, standing to put up his own cup. "And haven't wanted to leave since."

Unsure how to respond to this, I watch silently as he walks away. The natural light streaming in through the side window is casting a warm glow as Serna returns to the table, sweeping crumbs with her calloused hands into a towel. Told not to help but unaccustomed to sitting idly, I grab yet another pastry. The crumbs flake into my hand, my left under the right to catch those that fall. I take bites of the cooled pastry, finishing it ravenously and grabbing another while Serna cleaned. A bite away from done, Serna returns and sits down across from me, having the same face she usually holds- a calmness that neglects to hide her resolve. Putting the last bite of pastry into my mouth, I look into her eyes as she speaks.

"I hope you have had your fill of breakfast?" I nod, voicing my thanks for the meal. She's looking over me critically, then waves her hand in the general direction of the remainder of the food, that she at some point piled somewhat neatly on the top of a large wooden plate. "Good. The rest of the food will be eaten throughout the morning by the rest of the village." She turns her focus back to me. "You should continue to eat abundant and healthy meals, you need to heal. "

"Yes ma'am." I had been more hungry and would be a liar in saying that I could not feel the strain of my injured body. It was getting better; the tenderness had turned more to stiffness, and I could move my arms more freely with less pain. The hunger of my healing body would not be denied.

She continues. "You've traveled far, yes?" I know she already knows the answer to this question, but I respond affirmatively anyway. She gives the smallest nod before she says, "I will not inquire too far into the business of you and your...Aunt...but some things must be clear. You have serious wounds that I doubt came from a scape on the road, and your Aunt is a clearly experienced warrior." I nod, feeling as though there is a point but not getting it. "I see that you are fairly well built, but not on par with Phara. If your Aunt is, to say, overly aggressive," She says these last two words with emphasis, "Then you do not need to fear her here. Say what you will."

I sit quietly, not understanding the intent behind her words. She looks quietly at me as I do her for these last five seconds, waiting. Does she mean...Ah. She fears my Aunt is abusive to me. Perhaps I sustained a head injury, or my wounds have slowed my thought process. "No, I'm sorry ma'am. I didn't at first understand, but she does not hurt me." That was a lie, but I'm sure training doesn't count.

Serna takes my word, her eyes piercing me with more intent. "Then I must ask why you have come. We hold no knights here, but should you try and rob us you will be hurt."

I find it almost humorous that she thinks we could have come to harm when in truth we would have avoided them entirely given the chance. I respond by telling her the truth. "We are simply traveling. We stopped only because we had to, and I hope our coming brings you no hurt."

She nods to herself, apparently satisfied with the answer I have given her. "Truthfully, I figured so seeing as you were extremely hurt when you came here, and she made no move to attack. Still, I must hope to look after the village." She stands and turns her chair away from her, going to a cabinet to grab some sort of salve. "Come now, take off your tunic. I will examine your back."

Walking around the table I do as I was told, removing my tunic and placing it upon the back of the chair. Serna comes with fresh wraps in her left and the salve in her right, and she waves her hand bidding me to sit down. I do as she pulls up her own chair, turning it to face the one I sit upon. She looks at me as if I am somewhat slow, waiting for me to catch up. Eventually, it seems she tires. "Turn around."

Turning, lifting my right leg so that the chair is straddled, I place my arms on the tunic covering the top of the back of the chair and place my head on my arms. Her chair creaks as she leans forward, her cold hand brushing my tender skin as she pulls the linen wraps around and off my body. At times the blood from leaks in my wounds stuck to the fabric, and a soft but wet peeling sounded, me breathing sharply through my teeth to combat the stinging pain. She carries on, gently rubbing the salve in my open skin.

A few minutes later, to my relief, she finishes and grabs a towel, dampening it the pail and patting my back in a way that makes me feel somewhat awkward. After tightly wrapping the linen around me once again, she leaves simply picks up her things, puts them in another room, and leaves after reminding me once again to tend to my body. The now cool air of the house caresses my back as I stand, grabbing my tunic and putting the chairs back up against the table. Sliding my tunic on, I walk around the rooms of the house to try and find Harold and say bye before I leave. After looking about the house while trying my hardest not to be too intrusive, I realize he must have left without me noticing.

The brisk morning air hits when the door opens, and as the door shuts the realization comes that the morning must have gotten cooler. Or maybe sleep had blocked the sensation of the cool. Autumn's coming proclaimed itself in the cool air and the very few yellowing leaves. A soft breeze blows through the trees spaced far between the village, and as it hits my arms I feel bumps rise on my skin. I turn to my left and blink in surprise to see Harold walking towards me, a kind smile on his face that never seems to leave.

When he gets within arm's reach, his hands come out to clasp wrists. "Thank you for feeding me this morning and inviting me into your house," I say in a kind tone.

He starts to clap my shoulder, then slows down as I wince, ending with a soft pat. "Ahh, my wife did all the cooking, but any time lad, anytime. Guess I'll be seeing you later, take care of yourself lad." Harold starts to walk away, saying as he leaves, "Thanks for letting me tell you that story, it's been ages."

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Watching him walk off, I can't help but give a small smile. He's a nice man. I shrug my shoulders some more, trying to work out the sore pain that lingered. Passing someone walking to the well or Serna's house, I head back to the inn to wait for whenever Phara decides to return.

---

A leaf stem hits my toe as my feet slide through sparse leaves, my coils brushing the back of my neck, my body dripping with sweat. Blinking to try and avoid getting some into my eye, I launch another attack at my imaginary partner, the pleasing sound of my blades cutting through the air offbeat with my semi-steady breaths. Combining both my defensive and offensive forms that I learned from Phara, I fight wildly, twirling the quarter spear as I bring it up above my head, my right hand lashing across my body with the knife to block an incoming strike, then swing my quarter spear down to strike at the base of my opponent's neck. I had already run through the controlled sequences, and now just fought to focus. Sitting quietly in that room, doing nothing with my time, sounded like a good way to erase my meager sanity. The tree was fifty yards behind the Inn, and I fought under its large branches and leaves for the shade, the plains sun making the cool air almost negligible.

Rolling, and focusing on not hurting myself with my own weapons, I come up in a low stance and start again- the sound of someone walking softly through the grass stops me. I look to my right to see Samantha, her wild and matted hair stiff in the breeze. I stop, confused. For once, I notice, she doesn't blush. I'm grateful, it makes the moment much less awkward but no less confusing for me.

"Hello." Samantha stops a distance away, at our eyes meet as I stand and lower my weapons.

"Hello," I respond slowly. "Do you...need something?"

Samantha's shyness peaks through slightly when she responds. "My friends are busy, and I finished the task my parents gave me." She glances away before looking back at me. "I'm bored. I figured I might find you here, seeing as this is where you stay until your Aunt comes back."

"Oh." I watch her, unsure what to do, squishing my toes in and out over and over from discomfort. Awkwardly lifting first my half spear, then my knife, I say, "I'm guessing you aren't interested in anything like this?" She shakes her head no, and just as awkwardly I lower them back to my sides. The silence lengthens again, the moment stretching into moments too long. "Well...I'm not sure what to do."

Samantha stays silent for a moment, then shrugs. "Wanna go see some flowers?"

-

Samantha led me on a twenty-minute walk to a long flower field, pinks and whites spread out before us. When we got there we sat and said nothing, and for once I didn't truly feel out of place. At one point she got up to pick flowers, telling me it was for her mother. I rose with her and plucked them at their stems. The flowers were all large, the white ones coming from a thick stem, each branch holding a cluster of buds at the end that climbed up the stem in rows. The pink ones were much more simple, with four to six large leaves at the top that were streaked with black and faded into yellow near its center. The end of the leaves folded down and over on themselves were thin and soft to touch. When we finished, we started another for Serna. Samantha talked to me about the pastries for a minute before suggesting I get one for my "Aunt". I smirked and told her that she would be fine without one. Samantha looked at me oddly but said nothing else about it. I still remember lingering on one white flower, the plain colors fitting more with her primness and elegance than the bright facade pink put on. In the end, I just added it to Serna's batch. We made one more for her friend, whose name I forget but apparently helps Serna about the village.

At one point, Samantha asked me, "How are you and your Aunt related?" I waved a bug off a flower before replying, "Distantly." Samantha just nodded and said nothing, which I was content to simply let lie. After another moment, right before we started walking back, she asked her last question. "How'd you get to traveling with your Aunt?"

I stopped walking, unsure of how to answer the question. When she turned around, I started moving again. "I lost most of my family in a raid on the town we had lived in."

"Oh," She said quietly, the swish of the grasses moving with us through the still air as we shuffled back to our village. "I'm sorry."

I shrugged, opened my mouth to respond then shut it. I did this twice more before I found the right words to say. "Thank you."

After that, she was content to leave any matter regarding my family alone, and we walked most of the way back to the village in relative quiet.

Now we're sitting in the inn's entrance at a table, having gotten a snack of bread and jam for three coppers. It took a sizeable portion of the money I had, but my hunger was taking an equal portion of my focus. Samantha sat across from me, eating much less than I am.

"Thank you." I look up at her to see her looking down and to the right. Maybe she's only shy when other people could be watching. "For coming with me today, and helping pick the flowers."

I shrug, not really getting the appreciation but accepting it. "Wasn't much else to do," As the words are leaving my mouth, I realize how bad they could sound. "And I enjoyed the...relaxing task. It was very relaxing." Great. Phara would be distraught at how poorly I communicate, despite the hours she's put into me.

Samantha smiles softly, which alleviates the guilt I feel. "Yes, it is. The flowers are where I go whenever I can, the field... it's just a place to breathe. Sometimes I wish I could stay there longer. You should see it when the wind blows," Her eyes get distant now, and I see the beauty that she's seeing through them. I can see something that evokes more passion than fear from her now; the natural beauty of nature. "The flowers flash between each other, and the colors almost mix. It pulls your eyes, your mind. It's the most peace you'll find anywhere out here." Then she goes quiet again, and I feel the strain between us. The moment of serenity has faded, and we are both here, looking for nothing but wishing something was there. I'm not keen to what happens in her life, but I don't see many if any males my age in the village. Maybe this attraction just comes from the previous absence.

I stand to leave, but on the way up my eyes meet her's and stay there. Something happens between our eyes, and at this moment I feel how open I've been to her now. This feels uncomfortable like she is somewhere she isn't supposed to be. Breaking eye contact, I walk around the table and to the stairs, walking fast enough so that it can leave her before she comes up with anything to say. The creak of the bench sounds distant, the sound of her footsteps unheard as she leaves.

---

The packs make for slow walking, forcing Phara to walk moderately so that I'm not left behind. She woke me, explaining while I dressed that the people she had found had left ahead of time, moving stupidly closer to the village with the livestock. It had taken her two more days to return, and she had already packed her bags to leave as soon as we returned. This was the second hour of travel, and the plains had become less flat here, the land rising and falling unevenly and slightly. The grasses were shorter, the air was still and dry. The sun beat down through the whole air, coupling with my exertion to make sweat drip down my back in rivers, staining my shirt and dampening my hair. I kept my head down as much as I could, to try and keep sweat from dripping into my eyes.

Phara walks ahead, following something with her staff out and sword on her waist. I wasn't to participate in this fight. I hoped it would be long enough for me to rest, or at the very least that she would allow me to rest after. I stumbling along, following after wherever Phara wants me to go.

At some point, Phara tells me to stop, and happily, I place the packs upon the ground, trying to even my labored breathing. I'm grateful, this had been near yet another half hour of travel. The ground gently slopes downward, leading toward some buildings a hundred yards or so away, poorly built but large. A long hut was built to the far right, thatch for the roof and striking out some walls, where the sounds of the stolen animals. To the left of that was a fairly large longhouse, a mix of both mud and wood making the shoddy walls. Around these two main buildings were two small living huts and multiple ruined huts, outhouses, and more hay strewn about. Four men were seen out now, shirtless, talking loudly in an ignorant drawl that carried over the plains headlessly. They truly were idiots. Because of the humans living in relative proximity, including the farmers and maybe two other small villages within thirty or so miles, they could afford to worry less about wild beasts coming to kill them. Vengeful humans, however, warranted more caution than they have. The ruins of what looks like a village before it could truly start, maybe half a century old, surround them pathetically. I see how easily Phara found them.

Sitting on the ground to simply breathe, I sit forward and watch as Phara looks at the four men and the poorly built buildings, anxious to see what she is about to do. I put my arms in my lap, my shoulders aching from the walk as Phara stands, assessing. I know, with seeing her fight as little as I have, that she could rush in and murder every man there. What she is standing for, I don't know, but I am grateful for the rest. I hear movement from Phara now, a few minutes passing since I first sat down. I look up to see her holding her staff in her left hand and slowly walk down the gentle slope. Breathing more even now, I move up so that I can see her walking down clearly, the short grass tickling my legs through my pants. Suddenly, a bug buzzes in front of my eye, and I swat it away, the closest of the four men noticing her just after. He says something in an overly loud voice that I can't clearly hear, but it sounded like he said hey. A closer friend of his looks up from pissing on a ruined wall, and seeing a woman walk towards him, armed, he grabs up a hayfork in one hand. The first man, bearded, pulls a large ax out of a wall and another out of a stump and walks toward her. I frown slightly, perplexed. I look away from this upcoming confrontation for a few seconds to see that there are a number of axes strewn about, lodged in the ground, standing pieces of wood, or the occasional stump. Maybe a few under twenty that I can see. Why are there so many axes? The amount seems random and amusing. I look back to the man unwisely approaching Phara, seeing the third member coming out from around the long barn/shed out of the corner of my eyes to the right. The man says something else, in a normal voice now that she is closer, so I once again can't hear. When she ignores whatever it is he said, he steps forward threateningly and puts his axe out in front of him, sideways, as if to bar her path. Phara instead whacks him on the side of his head with her staff, and I laugh aloud as he is stumbling back. I heard the crack from here. For some reason, the fact that I have experienced what is happening to him makes this more amusing to watch. The man with the hayfork behind him yells, bringing the attention of the fourth man to her left. He starts his way toward her as bearded axe man gets mad and swings again, the fork wielder running up behind to provide support. Still using only her left hand, she swings the staff into the first man's temple, then spins around him and hits him in the back of the head. He falls as Phara jabs the running fork guy in the throat before he can swing his weapon. I watch the fourth man reconsider his actions and start running to the main house, and by the time I look back at Phara, she has already confronted the third man. He comes at her first by throwing a rather large log, which she simply evades. When he follows with a stout stick, she hits him on the elbow, the knee then spins her staff up with the same hand into his neck. She hits him again on the back of the head, pushing him into the ground, as the first and second man - stupidly- stand up again. The first charges with his axes, screaming blood, but seeing as he is dazed and outclassed I expect him to drop quickly. Phara ignores his weapons and just spins her staff into the side of his head, and he crumples faster than I've ever seen a man crumple in my life. Then people come streaming out the house, among them archers, crossbowmen, and melee men. The original fourth man comes out with a weapon that has a chain and a bladed ball on the end, a morning.... something. It will come to me. Phara dispatches the second man in the same fashion as the first, and when he hits the ground the others become bold with their numbers. I guess twelve, and now they charge. She sees them run towards her and walks forward to meet them, and the morning star- that's what is it, a morning star- reaches her first. Or at the least tries to.

When he's four feet away, she swings her staff out in front of her, and he's blasted twelve feet back five feet into the air. The staff never touches him.

As the looks of shock and fear overcome their faces, I see now why she stalled with the first three. By drawing everyone else out, she can make sure no one who is tempted to escape can leave. She decides to get serious and blows away the next three men into two others. The archers fire arrows, but they are simply deflected. One of the men close to her make an effort to stand, and she jabs him in the stomach. But this jab sends him flying eleven feet into an archer behind her, and with another swipe, men are scattered. She wastes little time with the archers, swinging her staff into them with abandon, and when there are only four left standing she goes for the farthest right. He fires off one single weak shot before she spins, using both hands, and comes around to slam her staff into his stomach. He flies down the line, going through all the other three archers, and even from here I hear the wood split as their bows crack. I stand, watching her go about and knocking out the other men she had yet to get to. She defeated sixteen men in less than four minutes. It took me last the same amount of time to survive five. And that done with stealth and luck, not openly announcing my presence to their camp.

I kick their axes or whatever weapons they have out of reach as I pass them, looking for a rope to tie them and the stolen livestock so that we could travel back to the village in relative peace. My footsteps and the sound of a grunt as Phara kicks a man still conscious, then the loud crack of her staff taking consciousness from him. These are the only sounds that accompany my quiet in my attempt to find rope.

---

"Thank you both for helping us, and yet again Phara, you are quite welcome to stay."

Serna's hospitality is either a formality or both formality and sincerity but I know it doesn't matter. She stands in front of us with two other women that I don't know and quickly forgot the names of. Harold left a couple of minutes ago, to go retrieve something. Likely our payment. Samantha stands with her mother to Serna's right, and we avoid making eye contact. I watch Serna as she speaks, the sun now midday between the peak and horizon. Phara responds as I shift our packs, anxious to leave soon.

"No, please, you have been kind enough! We truly must be going, healer Serna, we have a long ways to go. Though," I blink, realizing idly that I don't know where we are going. "Your village was truly quite the reprieve from the road." Phara's sincere smile and kind face make Serna smile in return. I smile inside.

"You truly are wonderful, saying that yet going out of your way once again to deal with our problems." Serna turns her gaze to me, which I meet. "You are truly watched by stars and sky, treasure your Aunt. She graces you by being in your life."

Serna's words seem completely serious, and wonderfully a response is sparred as Harold arrives with a pouch in hand. He hands it to Phara, saying, "You are due ma'am. Not a chestful, but the council and myself believe it a fair payment."

Phara smiles at him, beaming the words, "Oh you are too kind! Any payment for the right deed is payment enough." It doesn't miss me, however, that she still counts the coins.

Samantha's mother beams at both of us as Phara places away the pouch, but I catch eyes with Samantha. I give a sad grin, and she returns it, our way of wishing farewell. I won't see her again. Before Phara turns completely around, I mouth to her "Thank you". Her smile becomes wide, sincere, and we a slight blush she nods. I nod back.

Phara turns away, and with final farewells, we walk out of the village. We reason two to four hours till sundown, and Phara intends to make up for lost time. I follow, a part of me opening up as we go back to the open roads and plain once again.