Marth led me inside her house and sat me down at the small table in the center of the main room. There was a wood-burning stove, a sink, a cupboard on one side, and a couch and a rocking chair on the other, giving the whole house a cozy feel. Off to one side was a curtain hanging down, separating the main living area from the rest of the house.

“It’s small,” Martha said. “But it’s home.” She pointed at the curtain. “The bedroom there, and the bath. Harper and I share. It’s just big enough for the two of us.”

I looked around. The house was small, but it was neat and warm. If Harper was stuck here, I was glad she was with Martha. Now I just needed to know where everyone else was.

Martha set a mug down in front of me, filled with hot tea. I took a sip. It wasn’t great, no sugar added, and unsweetened tea had to be the nastiest drink ever, but I was hungry and thirsty and would have drank piss at that point. I tried to sip it slowly and not just gulp it down, but it was going down faster than I intended.

“Drink up, honey,” Martha said. “I’ll make more.”

I drank the rest in one swallow. Martha went to the kitchen, across the room, to get more.

“I always thought we’d add on, my Edward and I, as the children grew…” she trailed off and stared out one of the windows that face the rear yard. I could see a small cemetery in the distance, with several headstones.

“My Edward died all those years ago, and I think the last one finally broke his heart for good.”

I said nothing. Martha stared out the window for a moment, then brought me the cup of tea.

She smiled at me. She was probably in her mid-forties and had a smooth, blemish-free complexion. She wasn’t wearing makeup like women from my world did, but she didn’t need it. She was pretty and had probably been even more beautiful when she was younger, before the years of hard work caused the few deep lines in her face.

She’d removed her hat when he came in, and her hair, I now saw, was not blonde or brown but a mixture of both. She had a few gray hairs here and there, but they only added to her beauty.

“Thank you, Mrs. Martha,” I said.

“No, now. None of that. Just Martha is fine.”

I smiled. “Thank you, Martha.” I sipped the tea slower this time. “Where is Harper?” I asked.

“I sent her to the market to sell our vegetables and a few goats,” she said. “She left yesterday, so she should be back the day after tomorrow. We sell or trade the extra we have, and we get by. It’s just she and I here.”

I was dying for more information. “How did Cythyne find her? Has she ever mentioned…” I had to think about how to phrase this next part. “Has she ever mentioned where she came from?”

Martha looked me over, she had blue eyes, and on top of being pretty, she looked kind. “Yes, we’ve talked about it a few times. She’s mentioned she came from somewhere else.”

My stomach did a flip. So it was her!

“Where? Did she say?” I couldn’t contain myself.

Martha shrugged. “A place like this, but not like this, too.”

That was her. Definitely her. “What about her friends? Does she mention them?”

Martha shook her head sadly. “No, Jack, she doesn’t. Cythyne found her bloody, bruised, and beaten, and I think she’d rather forget whatever happened to her out there before she came to me. But maybe she’ll talk to you since you’re from the same place.”

I hoped so. I wondered what Harper even looked like now. I had been much younger when they had disappeared, and I didn’t have much memory of Harper from back then. But after the disappearance, I must have seen her picture a million times. A girl with brown hair and a big smile. She’d be five years older now, and those obviously had been five hard years.

And she wouldn’t know me. But that wouldn’t matter. I’d tell her I was Lucas’s brother, and she would remember. She would believe. I’d tell her about the stairs and our town and anything I could to prove I was who I said I was. She’d believe me.

“Are you hungry?” Martha said. She got up and began to move around the kitchen, staking wood in the small stove.

“Starving,” I said a little shyly.

Martha turned back and smiled at me. It was warm and comforting. “Good. I’ll make us something.”

#

Martha started to cook a stew and told me to stretch out on the couch. I felt a little guilty, but it had been a long couple of days, and I was exhausted. I laid down and tried not to think of the panic and fear my parents were going through at this very moment, and silently promised them it would be worth it. Both of their sons would return home.

I didn’t have to try very hard after that. I think I was asleep before I’d even silently whispered the words to myself.

I woke to Martha gently shaking me awake. “Wake up, Jack,” she said. “Dinner’s ready.” I sat up on the couch, my head still full of cobwebs. Afternoon naps always made me feel worse than when I felt before, but I’d needed it. All of the excitement from the previous day, on top of sleeping on the ground and riding for hours, had worn me down more than I’d ever been. Outside the little house, night had fallen, and I could see that beautiful bright moonlight casting everything in silver.

If you think one full moon is bright, try two.

I managed to get to my feet, hoping that would help me wake up. The smell of Martha’s stew also helped. A lot.

It smelled wonderful, and I was starving. She had laid out cups filled with water, two spoons, and two bowls filled with the steaming brown stew. She’d also laid a loaf of brown bread with a thick bowl of butter next to it. My mouth was watering. She gestured for me to sit.

I did, and she sat across from me. “I hope you like it,” she said.

I knew I would. I was so hungry I could have eaten the wrong end of an elephant.

“Smells wonderful,” I said. I noticed Martha had changed clothes. She was no longer wearing the tattered old dress she’d been wearing when I arrived. She’d changed into a dark blue dress much less tattered. It looked like she’d never worn it before. Maybe she hadn’t. It was cut a lot lower than her work dress. A lot lower. And her cleavage was ample. I tried not to stare.

She had been pretty, even in her tattered farm dress, but now she was beautiful. Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, and the skin on her shoulders was lightly freckled.

I stirred the thick brown liquid, kicking up chunks of meat and vegetables. I filled my spoon and tasted it. It was wonderful. I gobbled it up quickly, trying to hold on to what was left of my manners and not lick the bowl.

Martha offered me more, and I gladly accepted, this time breaking off a piece of the bread and using that to sop the juice up.

By the time I was done with the second bowl, I was stuffed.

“Thank you so much, Martha. That was great.”

“I’m glad you liked it,” she said. “It’s been a long time since I cooked for anyone other than Harper and myself. There’s nothing like seeing a hungry man enjoy a meal.”

The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.

I didn’t know about that, but it had been delicious. I could hardly move.

Martha picked our bowls up, refilled my cup with more water, and gestured for me to follow her to the couch. We sat on opposite ends.

“Would you like to play a game or something?” she asked. “Sometimes Harper and I play fiddlywinks.”

I had no idea what that was. Even after my nap, being stuffed with real food made my sleepiness return.

“Maybe next time,” I said.

Martha smiled and nodded understandingly. “Okay. Well, you relax. Tomorrow you can help me around here, and the next day Harper will be back.”

She looked a little unsure. “Everything okay?” I asked.

She smiled, but I could see her eyes welling up. “Oh gosh,” she said, wiping them. “Look at me. Yes, Jack, everything’s okay. I’m just happy you’re here. Harper has been such a tough young woman, but she needs to go home. She wants to go home. Your being here means she can do that.”

I hoped so. I knew there were people that missed her. Just like my family missed Lucas.

“I really hope so,” I said.

Martha smiled a sad smile. “Me too.”

After that, she opened a book and started to read. She offered me one, but I declined. The last thing I wanted was to read. My imagination didn’t need any more stimulation at this point.

As we sat there, something dawned on me. “But if she leaves, you’ll be all alone again.” I’d said it out loud, but I hadn’t meant to.

Martha slowly closed her book. “Yes, it does. But that’s okay. I don’t mind. I was alone a long time after Edward died and before Harper came. So I’ll be okay.”

She didn’t add anything about the small headstones I’d seen in the cemetery. Several children had died, too.

“I’m sorry, Martha,” I said. “I truly am.”

She gave me that sad smile again. “It will be okay. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

I didn’t want this kind woman to be alone. But we needed to go home.

“How did you meet Cythyne?” I asked, hoping to get her mind off of things.

“Now, that is an interesting story,” she said. It seemed to perk her up. “And a long one… Have you got the time?”

I faked, looking around the room. “You know, I don’t think I have any other pressing engagements. Let me hear it.”

Martha turned toward me and crossed her legs on the couch. I could see that they were toned from all of her work around the farm. Her cleavage jiggled slightly in her tight dress, then settled down. I told myself not to notice.

“Well, I was a girl not much younger than you are now…”

#

#

The girl ran. She ran until her lungs felt like they were going to burst, every breath burning like fire in her chest. But she ran on. She would rather die than stop. Let her lungs burst from the effort. That would be better than being caught by him.

Behind her, she could hear him laughing. Calling to her and laughing. Telling her to run. Telling her, it wouldn’t do her any good.

She knew he was right. They should never have come here.

Their father had gone to the market, taking his crops loaded in a large wagon with two of the cows tied to the back. They didn’t need them. It had been a good year.

Their mother had gone with him this time, the first time the girl could remember her mother ever leaving the house overnight, and they were going to use the money from the market to buy supplies. And maybe a new dress, her mother had said. And maybe, just maybe, some toys for the children. Her father had scoffed at that. But when they’d left, he’d given her a wink, his youngest daughter, and told her to mind her brother and sister, and there just might be a surprise in it for her when he got back.

She knew he’d bring her back something.

After their parents left, they’d been bored. They were supposed to do chores, but who wanted to do that? No, they wanted to have fun.

Her brother wanted to go to the forest.

Both she and her sister had said no. But he’d eventually convinced them. We knew of a cool pond to go swimming in. Once with a waterfall and, if they were lucky, he said, he knew that a unicorn often took its water there.

The two sisters followed along excitedly.

It was a long walk, and they had always been forbidden to go into those woods, so she wondered how her brother knew a unicorn was there. But when she questioned him, he shushed her like he always did.

The pond was beautiful. Like nothing, she’d ever seen. They swam and played, splashing each other and jumping in, but no unicorn ever came to drink.

After, her brother and sister dozed on the bank of the pond, resting before the long walk home. The girl wanted to see a unicorn, although she supposed she was really too old for unicorns now, and it wasn’t about seeing the unicorn itself. It would just be something to brag about to her brother and sister. So she went deeper into the forest, hoping to be the only one who saw something magical.

But she never did. The sun was setting, and she needed to get back. But now she was lost.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she heard a voice.

“What are you doing here, pretty?”

Her heart pounded in her chest at the scare. She looked around, and there, sitting on a rock, was the strangest little man.

The little man was short, much shorter than she was, but she was almost as tall as her father now. The little man was old and ugly and had a fat belly that was uncovered because he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She looked closer and realized he wasn’t wearing any clothes at all, actually.

But the strangest thing was that he had big ears like a goat and two little horns sticking out of his forehead. Even stranger still was that below the knee, he had the legs of a goat.

“Cat got your tongue,” he said in his awful little voice.

“I… uh….” She didn’t know what to say to this little man. Something told her not to tell him she was lost.

“I’m leaving these woods,” she said in a determined tone when the shock of being startled and of his appearance wore off. “Goodbye.”

She turned to go. She had no idea if she was going in the right direction to get back to her brother and sister, but she would be traveling opposite of him, and that was all that mattered.

“Well, don’t go that way,” he said with a laugh. “There’s a mean old troll that will eat you that way.”

She stopped. Surely he was lying. But maybe he wasn’t.

“Which way do I go then?” she asked in a tone she hoped would convey she might take his suggestion and she might not.

The little man scratched his chin. “I could tell you that. But what would I get out of it.”

She had nothing to bargain with. “I have no money, sir if that’s what you’re after.”

He smiled a wicked smile that made the girl ill. His sharp little teeth seemed like they were winking at her.

“Oh, I don’t want money,” he said. He stood now, and the girl noticed for the first time that the thing between his legs was both rather small and pointing right at her as stiff as a tree branch.

“Oh,” she gasped and covered her eyes.

The little man laughed. “What? You don’t like me?”

She peaked through her fingers and saw him moving his hips, waving his little stick at her.

“No, sir, I do not,” she said. Then, without looking at him, she made to storm off.

He sidestepped in front of her. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving,” she said, but she couldn’t get past him.

He reached out and touched her breast before she could stop him. “Not before you give me what I want,” he said.

She started to run, to push past him, but he stuck out one of his goat legs and tripped her. She fell to the ground, her mouth open in shock, and leaves and dirt hit her in the face. She spit, trying to clear the disgusting-tasting dirt from her mouth and nose, then tried to wipe it from her eyes.

Then she felt him on her. He jumped onto her back, his furry legs on top of hers. She screamed. She felt him raise her dress, and panic set in. She flailed her arms and legs, kicked and squirmed. Finally, she felt her elbow connect and heard him grunt. Then, somehow, she was up and running.

She ran hard, dodging trees and rocks and jumping over logs until her legs and lungs burned from the effort. She thought she had gotten away until the man laughed behind her. She ran harder, giving it everything she had, wanting to escape or die trying.

Until she tripped.

She looked up. She was surrounded by rocks, a babbling brook running through them. She started to cry. Why had they come here? Where were her brother and sister?

“Stop that!” the little man demanded. He was sitting on one of the rocks now. “It won’t save you.”

She wiped her tears away and snarled at him. “I’ll fight you. You may take me, but I’ll make you pay for it.”

His fat belly jiggled when he laughed at her. “Make me pay for it? You little bitch. I was only going to take what I wanted, but now I’ll kill you after.”

She stood, dirt and blood covering her knees and legs. She balled her fists and growled at him through clenched teeth. “Come kill me then. I will die my father’s daughter.”

Someone else laughed now. It was a woman, and her laugh was gentle and easy. “She’s not going to let you have her without a fight, Grumbel. I like that.”

The little man looked around furtively. “I wasn’t-”

“Save your lies, Grumbel!” the woman's voice boomed. “I will not hear them.”

The girl was frozen. The little goat man looked around, searching for the voice or a way out.

A woman emerged from the woods. The girl stared. Not a woman. A half-woman. A half woman, half horse.

She was beautiful, with hair the dark red of the fall leaves falling all around her shoulders. Her human form was naked, and she held a large bow made of thick wood. She had one arrow knocked but held the bow down by her waist.

The girl watched, mystified, as her horse legs carried her closer to them.

The little goat man fell to his knees. “I am sorry. I wasn’t going to do that again. She was lost, and I was going to help her find her way. I swear it.”

The woman looked at the little goat man. “You have been warned, Grumbel. You have been warned repeatedly.”

“I know,” the little goat-man fell to his knees and clasped his hands. “I know. I won’t do it again. I promise. Please have mercy on me.”

The woman smiled at him. “This one is tough. I think she would at least have clawed one of your eyes out, Grumbel. But now, we’ll never know.”

She shot the little goat-man through the heart. With the arrow sticking through him, he stared slack-jawed at the horsewoman, then turned slowly, as he if would walk away from all this trouble, took two steps, and collapsed.

“Come,” the horsewoman said to the girl. “I know where your brother and sister are.” She held out a hand to the girl.

The girl was scared. She didn’t move.

“I won’t hurt you. What is your name?” the woman asked.

“Martha,” the girl said.

“Come, Martha. I will get you home.” The girl reached out slowly and took the woman’s hand. “I am Cythyne,” the centaur woman said.