The Land of Nod

Game Mistress

Day 1

Perhaps I was here because last time I wasn’t able to escape, maybe this time I will. The pit was just as deep, though there was a ladder for me to use, where as before there hadn’t been. I found myself relieved, this time I would be free. I had this reoccurring dream, or vision, often. Sometimes it would be one day after another, other times it would be months apart. This was the first time I was given a way out.

I placed on step on the bottom rung and then another. I felt the same as far as strengths and weaknesses went, but emotionally I felt lighter, more at ease than I had in a long time. Was it the olive branch of freedom that was in my grasp that made me feel this way or was it something else. What was at the top of this pit?

As each rung brought me closer to the surface I found myself growing more excited. I smelled the dirt that surrounded me as well as a sudden rush of fresh air, grass, and flowers. Where was I?

My hands reached the final rung and then I lifted myself out of the pit. There was this moment of bliss that I had not felt in some time. Freedom from everything seemed to descend on me and I thought that I had found a place of utter perfection. I was wrong though. Within a few minutes I was swept up by a man wearing a suit of armor.

The man road a horse that was huge, black and very scary. The grip he had on my waist was tight and for a moment I thought he’d broken a few ribs. When he settled me against his chest I was much to frightened to fight him. I happened to see what he was running from and that was far more terrifying then the current situation. Behind him was a great army of Knights and they did not look friendly.

Suddenly we were in a forest, thick with green foliage and it was somewhere in that forest that he lost our pursuers. Eventually my “hero” stopped at a stream and helped me down after he dismounted. My eyes blinked several times, trying to “wake” up, but it was to no avail.

“Good day, my Lady,” the Knight said to me as he took off his headgear. His voice was thick and deep. Very sexy. Why that thought had popped into my head at that moment in time is beyond me, but it had.

“Oh, you came!” I answered back. “Thank you for saving me.”

Where did that come from? It was as if I knew him. . .it was then that I realized for some reason I did know him and it was then I decided that I’d not question the ins and outs of this place, but would go on with them until I awoke, because here I was by a beautiful stream, on a gorgeous day, with a man that was looking like he wanted to eat me up and I was not about to pitch a fit! He was a Knight in Shining Armor for God’s sake... who was I to complain!

I slowly rise up from the ground, awakened by the early morning sun's rays upon
my face. Slowly stretching my cramped muscles and stamping my feet to get my
blood flowing. I reach to scratch my beard........what's this.......no beard? I look around and find myself not in my room but in a deep forrest!

I look about and nothing is famillar. I remember nothing at all. MY thought is interrupted by the sound of many hoof beats, horses running fast. I move forward to the edge of the forrest and gaze out across the meadow.

I see a knight ride past. (a knight!) he stops nearby and lifts a woman up on his horse and rides on. He is followed by many more, weapons at the ready as
they sweep by me in pursuite of the solitary knight. I watch untill they enter the
forrest and I no longer can see them.

Walking back the way I came, my thoughts are unclear. Knights? Horses? Men with weapons? But the most troubling of all was the Castle? Stopping short, I
take another closer look at myself. I am wearing a green plaid kilt, a wide leather belt and a dark green woolen shirt. What is going on? This is all something from another era, another time.

By this time, I have arrived back at my camp to find only more surprises and more questions. Where I had been sleeping was another leather belt with sword and knife, a shield and a dark green tam-o-shanter. Teathered nearby was two horses with other supplies.

I walked to a nearby stream and washed and took a drink. Looking at my reflection in the water, I see a young man with dark red hair and no beard. It was my face almost forty years ago. I am now more confused. What is going on?

Returning to camp, I prepare the horses like I knew what I was doing. Picking up my sword and shield, I lead my horses off towards the castle. Heading towards what I am unsure. My new destiny? What? I shake my head as I emerage from the forrest into the meadow.

I stretch my arms in the warm sun, straighten up, put a smile on my face and start walking towards the castle. This is going to be a fine day. Regardless of
what is to come!

I see the helpless lady and do what I've always wanted to do: rescue her. Something about the awe with which a hero is held by those he saves has always appealed to me. My armor makes it awkward, but I get her safely out of the pit, even as I know that she is scared of me too. Why? Perhaps I look a bit menacing in my suit of armor. I am a knight, after all. A banished knight, cynical, angry, bitter, and very warlike, but I still have a soft spot for women in distress. I just tinker with the code of chivalry a bit. That doesn't mean that I don't still protect the weak and defenseless.

I look at her freckled face and auburn hair, and wonder why I bothered worrying about where I stood with the ladies of the Duke's court. They were nothing but trouble for me. Teases. Coquettes. Shrews. It's common, peasant girls like this who need rescuing and protection the most. They are the most grateful. They are worthier of my concern and compassion. I lead her away to a my safe haven, where I plan to nurse her wounds with some herbs given to me by a friendly witch.

Jessamine

The ether-like fog that had surrounded her dropped away, and Jessamine found herself stretching and straining to wakefulness – only to find her movements hampered by the clanking, rattling, metallic ringing of her iron chains against the granite pedestal behind her. Biting back a sob, she let her head fall backwards, her eyes remaining closed as she did not need them. What use has the blind for eyes, open or closed?

But she could feel the cold, hard iron shackles upon her wrists – they were lined with thick leather strips that had been worn away in places by her endless struggling. The slick nap of the leather and its alternating patches of cold, pitiless metal was a familiar sensation by now, as was the ice-like slab of smooth, chilled stone she leant against. Beneath her hips and straining legs lay an expanse of grass – one that felt cool and moist in the early morning against the backs of her knees, its blades tickling her flesh in a prickly caress.

Jessamine knew what she was: a blind woman accused of witchcraft; and she knew where she was restrained: at the base of what they had told her was a witch’s statue. She even had a vague idea of where she was – tucked somewhere into the vast castle grounds that the village had been built upon.

The sun rose fully over the horizon and its light caught at her face, bringing the faintest roseate glow behind her lids and touching her skin with warmth. She shivered – the stone behind her was cold, the grass cool and damp.

She almost knew what she looked like – her neighbors had described her as a ‘sweet little bit of a thing’, by which she took it to mean she was small, or maybe thin, and possibly even both. She knew what her own limbs felt like to herself; she was sure that her nightly habit of running her fingertips curiously across every inch of her budding woman’s flesh might have been a factor in her current predicament. But she liked the way she felt – her skin soft, her limbs and body gently rounded and comprised of curves that she had longed to match against the firm, warm flesh of another, even her breasts proud, jutting cones topped with the nipples she had found intriguing.

But, laws be damned, she never did anyone harm! What right did the dairy farmer to say her gaze had spoiled his cows? She couldn’t even SEE, for goodness sake!

Irritated and frustrated beyond reason, Jessamine gave an angry shake of her head – her hair, long since escaped from the confines of her simple kerchief – falling to cascade around her face with feather-like touches. Bereft, and suddenly feeling so young and alone, she dragged her knees upwards and let her arms fall at her sides, her face burying itself against the coarse woolen length of her skirt as she tried to bite back a series of rending sobs.

I am amazed by the beauty of the place I am taken. It is a simple structure sturdy and maintained. The Knight leads me into his home and I take a seat at a chair where I the abrasions on my palms and knees can be cared for. They sting and blood flows from them in small teardrops that run a path along my skin. The dress I had on covered in tatters and mud does nothing to help matters and I stop myself from running the blood specs into the dirty gown.

Eventually my Knight moves to my side to help care for my wounds. My stomach lurches from the touch of his hand upon my skin. A blush rises to my cheeks and for a moment I become lost in his eyes. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I was placed there to die, granted it would have taken some time for it to happen. Though a few days of good rain would have done it.”

I smile softly as the wounds are exposed and his hand touches my skin. I pick at the small gravel and stone that have been embedded in my flesh as well as specks of grass and such. “They will come looking for me though. My crime was not one I wanted to commit, but I had to commit it, for I could not let the creatures be destroyed. It was wrong and unjust.”

My thoughts are brought short by a flash of movement in the corner. “Was that a fairy?” I asked. Wondering if my Knight had such a friend, for to have one was both a good thing as well as a bad one. . .” What is your name? I am Alaria."

Kitty the barmaid

It is early morning. I am gathering eggs (gathering eggs?) from the hen house behind the Inn. I am barefoot in a brown dress and a too small chemise, but both are relatively clean. The basket is full of eggs, and the sun is rising over the castle wall. I brush my white blond hair out of my face (when did I become a blond? and my hair is so very long down my back... and wow! I am buxom! or maybe the dress is just too tight! I have the body I had at 21, and the energy!).I feel the need to hurry back inside. There is a woman (Mary? no, Marion is her name.... how do I know that?) rolling out dough. "Get on with the eggs girl, the patrons will be here soon," she motions to the pans and griddle on the far wall of the room, "get the fire stoked up, I need to cook the bread soon- and get the meat cooking too." I begin doing as she has instructed as she barks orders to the young boy that has just stumbled in the rear door. He is roughly 11 years old and comes in rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and yawning... he is her youngest son, he also begins bending to the tasks she has given him, with the sluggishness of one whom has just awakened.
I begin my cooking of the meat.

"Get out there and check the tables and make them neat and clean-now!" I hear her bellow at me, so I grab a rag and go out into the tavern to clean and straighten the room. there are a few patrons near the hearth that seem to be waiting for someone else. I leave them alone and straighten the room. Wiping down the counter and the tables and doing a quick sweep of the floor I notice the morning sun slowly coming in through the windows. It will be a beautiful day.

The smell of cooking meat wafts into the room reminding me of my cooking duties. I return to the kitchen and resume helping Marion get the morning meal ready as I hear others enter the tavern.

CONNER (RED) MAKAY

Walking at a steady pace, I arrive at the village by the castle. The buildings are of wood and stone with thatched roofs. The first thing I am looking for is a suitable place for me and my horses. As I follow the main street, I see a large two story building near the wall. Turning towards the building, I notice several smaller outbuildings and a corral with wagons and horses. There is a sign hanging over the door to the main building....."THE LADY ROSE INN", with a large red rose cut into the wood of the sign.

I stop before the large entrance door below the sign and reach inside my purse and withdraw a hand full of coins. "At least I have some money!", saying to myself and thinking hom much. A young boy approaches and inquires if I am going to stay at the inn.

"I am the stable boy for the inn and I can take care of your horses for you" he adds.

"Yes, if there is room." I reply, handing him the horses leads along with one of my coins.

"NO SIR! I may not", and returns the coin to me with a large smile.

"Perhaps later then", I respond as I remove my pack and hang my shield on the saddle. Take good care of my horses and gear I tell the boy as I pull open the large door and enter the Lady Rose Inn.

Entering the inn, I find myself in a lobby with a large desk and the stairs to the second floor. I observe a bar or drinking room to my left and another large room with tables and benches. Standing behind the desk is a middle aged woman with long brown hair and bright sparkling brown eyes.

CONNER (RED) MAKAY

I walk forward towards the desk as I continue to watch the other two rooms. There is no one in the left room, but several people are sitting and eating in the room on my right. Reaching the desk, I give my biggest smile to the woman behind the desk and she smiles back too.

"HELLO! I am Conner Mckay. Do yee have a room lass?".

"Aye, that we do have, Master Mckay. A lovely room at the end of the hall overlooking the stables and corral." she replies. "My name is Petal and I am the day keeper". She turns to the wall behind trying to find something. "AHHH! here they are, the keys to room 9" turning she holds up a rind with a key and a disk bearing the number nine. Follow me sir as she comes arount the desk and starts to climb the stairs.

Her red dress is cut low exposing a large expanse of flesh. She wears a white apron over the dress, stockings and brown shoes. She switches her hips back and forth as she climbs the stairs. At the top she turns and looks down the stairs, while giving me a wounderful view of her ripe full breasts.

"Come on now Mister Conner", she calls to me. "Your room is just down the hall here.............." She reaches the door first, and unlocks the door and pushes it open and enters........


Upon reaching the door, I too enter in. Petal is standing in the center of the room and as I enter she spins around and her skirt flairs out. she does have a very nice figure. Long brown hair, brown sparkling eyes, rich full lips and a very beautiful body from what I can see. I approach petal and I place my arm around her slim waist, pull her to me and looking right into her eyes.....

"Thank you miss Petal for all your help." I said. "The room will do just fine." I remove my arm from her waist and then drop my things on the bed.

She asks if I am hungry and I nod yes. She replys that she will go down and make arrangements for some food. She smiles and walks to the door and turns back to face me.

""SIR! It is not miss but madam. i will see you downstairs", she turns again and closes the door as she leaves.

I open my pack and remove several cloth items along with another knife, which i place in my boot. I remove my tam and dark green shirt and put on my only clean white shirt along with my tartan. I sling my blade back over my shoulder with the hilt laying on my hip, with the dagger in front in easy reach. I place the key ring into my purse after I locked the door on my way out.

Walking into the large room with the tables and benches, Petal sees me and crosses over to me and leads me to a smaller table where several food items and drinks were laid out. Petal smiles and says to eat and slowly walks away. she has another customer waiting at the desk.

A bowl of hot porridge, hot potatoes, chicken and a hot drink. It all looked delicious and I was hungry. I finished it all, so it must have at least been good. I drank another mug of cool water. I leaned back against the wall and listened to the town gossip. The lone knight rescuing the woman and being persued by another band of knights. The lone knight was reasoned to be a rogue, a man who did things his way, not according to custom. The next topic of discussion was about a woman accused of witchcraft. She was chained to a statue on the grounds. Her name was Jessamine. I was going to have to look in on this.

I left the table and walked out to the lobby and saw Petal. She said to see her this afternoon. We would settle up then. She has a warm yet mystical smile. Does it mean what I hope it means. Time will tell. But now I had to look
into something else. It must be nearing mid morning and the day was warming up. I left the inn and stepped out into the bright sunlight of the day.

My search was on. Why I did not know. I knew not the name, Jassamine, but something was now driving me to locate this woman. WHO? WHY? WHERE?
Now I must learn the layout of this place and learn who is in charge. Much to do. I head for the castle. It is still a good day.

RedHairedandFriendly said:

I am amazed by the beauty of the place I am taken. It is a simple structure sturdy and maintained. The Knight leads me into his home and I take a seat at a chair where I the abrasions on my palms and knees can be cared for. They sting and blood flows from them in small teardrops that run a path along my skin. The dress I had on covered in tatters and mud does nothing to help matters and I stop myself from running the blood specs into the dirty gown.

Eventually my Knight moves to my side to help care for my wounds. My stomach lurches from the touch of his hand upon my skin. A blush rises to my cheeks and for a moment I become lost in his eyes. “Thank you,” I tell him. “I was placed there to die, granted it would have taken some time for it to happen. Though a few days of good rain would have done it.”

I smile softly as the wounds are exposed and his hand touches my skin. I pick at the small gravel and stone that have been embedded in my flesh as well as specks of grass and such. “They will come looking for me though. My crime was not one I wanted to commit, but I had to commit it, for I could not let the creatures be destroyed. It was wrong and unjust.”

My thoughts are brought short by a flash of movement in the corner. “Was that a fairy?” I asked. Wondering if my Knight had such a friend, for to have one was both a good thing as well as a bad one. . .” What is your name? I am Alaria."

Click to expand...

As the lady recovers, and informs me that her name is Alaria, I introduce myself.

"I am Sir Marc Lanier. Why is it that you were fleeing, dear lady. And she is a witch. A very powerful one, though not too popular these days. Her friend Jessamine has been imprisoned for being one, even though she is not one. The witch hunters have gotten really out of hand these days. She is trying to help her blind friend, and I have agreed to shelter her, in return for her aid in the healing arts and other forms of magic to regain my rank and estates. This house is the only place that they haven't managed to steal from me since my exile. They are now hunting for me and other enemies of the Duke. I made the mistake of opposing the witch hunts, you see, on the ground that innocents were being burnt."

Jessamine

Jessamine remained tethered in her place, the rousing sounds of the waking village slowly sifting towards her but not really affording her much motivation to move. Rather, she used the harsh wool of her skirt to hastily wipe her face dry, rubbing it in angered irritation until she could feel the feverish skin cry out in protest of its rough treatment. Content with what was possible of her daily libations, she splayed her palms and braced them firmly against the solid rock square behind herself and pushed upwards with both arms and legs until her rump hooked itself over the ledge of the statues base. Such a position left her arms no room for movement – and indeed, she often took advantage of it to lean forwards, letting her weight hang against the chilly manacles with an unvoiced prayer that someday they would offer her a bodily release from her imprisonment – but it brought her body more fully into the sun, and she took advantage of that fact each morning to let her dress dry and bones warm beneath its golden caress.

As the world around her wakened, the gardens and grounds around her came alive with a series of titillating sounds. Aside from the movement of small creatures on the ground cover, she could often hear voices and sometimes even snippets of conversation that drifted across the land towards her. She was fairly certain it was the villagers simply going about their day, yet the freedom and license they took for granted was the sole thing her wounded spirit cried out for with a desperation she felt physically. And of course, each morning there was her usual daily visitation – one or another of the town elders appearing to bring her what little sustenance they deemed her worthy of and of course feet it to their chained and blind captive like a child while they questioned her determinedly.

This morning, the man who walked into the grassy clearing surrounding the statue pinioning their ‘guest’ was startled enough that he began running towards the towering marble plinth with its horrifying image locked in stone – the towering stake, around which a lusciously carved female figure was bound; her legs wrapped around the massively thick pole and tied to each other, breasts and arms splayed about its circumference and wrists bound, pulse point to pulse point. A halo of fire lapped all the way up to her waist, revealing her body only in snatches caught through stone flames. Rumor had it that they had impaled the tainted bitch on a spiked phallus upon the stake, and the backwards tilted head and its mask of agony neither denied nor confirmed it. The woman’s hands were upraised, her fingers spread in a desperate moment as a corona of fire bloomed from her scalp.

The statue was demented and disturbing, yet viscerally powerful in its own darkly evocative way. Rumor also had it that the tormented souls of the witches that had been purged in the village often visited the statue, dashing around it and moaning wildly, their cries enough to turn a man mad.

Jessamine sat atop the broad block upon which the statue was balanced upon – her hips slid back along the solid, cool rock until her buttocks nestled against the carved beginnings of the figure behind her. Her arms were splayed wide to either side, the chains leading upwards to anchor themselves to metal hooks protruding from a metal band encircling the shaft of the stake just above the screaming witches own wrists. With her legs demurely straight before her, arms pointed backwards in a bitter parody of flight, and her head slumped forwards in a wild cascade of richly blue-black strands, her figure looked like it was near-crucified in the early morning fog that was slowly dissipating.

Running forwards with a cry, the middle aged man hauled himself up abruptly with a startled noise as Jessamine’s poignant face swung to face him from its awkward angle – all the more disturbing to see as her eyes never once flickered open. Even as she spoke, he could see her legs and body flexing against the chains in an attempt to do what, he did not know.

“Good morning, jailer of my flesh. Is it yet my day to die? Will you let my searing flesh assuage your community conscience and reassure the village of its safety before the sun and its warmth leaves me?” Slowly pivoting her left shoulder outwards with an audible creaking of her sinews, she turned to face him directly – lashes lifting to reveal her eyes, the violet irises flashing opalescent in the shifting of sun and shadow. The metal manacles bit at the tender skin of her inner wrists, and despite the leather stropping he could see the welts lining the delicate skin. She would surely cut herself any day now…

“No, witch, today you will live, so says the council.” He spoke in an almost bored voice and Jessamine sighed – her whole body going limp as she collapsed against the base of the bonfire behind her. She turned her head to her right, once more pinioning him completely with eyes that saw past him and into the yawning depths of hell, he was sure. Despite the lush curves of her body, her face was all angles – her cheekbones high, her cheeks themselves drawn, the pert tilt of her nose dusted with a handful of freckles that seemed to grow just a mite wider when her broad mouth smiled. But then again, he hadn’t seen her smile in some time.

“How kind of them, Karthin – please do extend my grateful appreciation,” she whispered hoarsely, afraid of speaking louder lest the sob lodged in her throat escape. A metallic clang came from near her right arm, but Jessamine did not start. Instead, she lay quiescent and still, her legs drawing up as she tucked her diminutive frame closer against the familiar hardness of her stone prison.

“Here, witch; I brought you water and a fine honey loaf. Turn your head that I may feed you from where I stand.” Came Karthin’s demanding voice. Jessamine gave a slow, sorrowful shake of her head, her face and voice devoid of expression when she spoke.

“Don’t bother, Karthin – I don’t want your food and I certainly will not answer your questions. Just tell the council not to bother sending anyone out here anymore. Mayhap then they can at least forget about me, if not forgive me, for existing.” With that she fell silent, eyes closed and head tilted back against the cool stone. No amount of cajoling or threatening Karthin managed was sufficient to rouse her to respond, and with an irritated string of curses under his breath, he stomped off – presumably back to the village.

Jessamine was tired. The weakness had been eating at her for over a week – the sustenance they gave her hardly enough to allow her command of her muscles. She figured in another day or two, even that wouldn’t matter – and soon after, she could just blessedly let this life go. She didn’t want to die – but she was not a witch, nor was she a betrayer of friends and confidences, either. Of the three, she could easily pick the lesser of evils – confessing to witchcraft would earn her a public burning, and betraying the trust her one and only true friend had placed in her would lead to the same fate for them both.

Better she die alone, here, knowing that the most kind and generous person to ever to exist ran free of the torment and misery they had inflicted upon her, instead.

Land of Nod

A statue in the forest outside of the small town starts to move and turn to flesh. The statue finally done with its transformation. A young woman in appearance maybe the age of 19. Her hair long and curly, the color of the sun. Her eyes a deep crystalline blue almost an unnatural color. Dressed simple in a short sun dress that goes down about mid thigh. The patern on it subtle yet bold. Having images of roses and there stims spiraling around.

As she looks around she realizes that this is not her home from back in Indiana. Also this is not her body, or her dress. She has never looked like this o had a dress like this. She is worried about where she is an why she is in someone elses body. She starts to slowly walk around thw area seeing to a person with dark red hair at a camp site getting himself ready for travel. Not wanting to disturb him she keeps quiet. Kneeling in the brush outside his camp.

Trying very hard not to make any noise. Though her stomach starting to grummble very loudly as it seems she has not eaten in ages.

This was a strange land, he thought to himself. The village seemed to shun him; perhaps they thought him a beggar passing through and would not give him succour. He hoisted his worn pack and walked past the hovels where children played with piglets which squealed loudly as they were chased. Chickens jumped in a whirl of brown feathers out of the way and from under his feet.

A young woman in a rough dress of inderterminate colour did her best to clean some root vegetables ready for the large iron pot beside her. Men were few and far between. Outside one house an old man nodded, half asleep and a youth twined a thin bowstring glancing sullenly up at the stranger.

The sound of a blacksmith's forge drew the stranger and he walked closer to the open fronted shop. A young boy worked a hand bellows, sparks flying up as the air was forced through the fire. The smith worked on horseshoes his broad naked back to the stranger as the hammer beat regularly, an almost religious sound like a bell as metal clashed with metal.

He walked on, finding nearby a more substantial building nearer the heart of the village. The White Hart, the sign showed the pale deer with the words below it that few here could read he was sure. He went into the gloomy interior, the wooden floors covered with sawdust, tables being cleaned by a sallow looking young woman. He walked over to where a tall man stood talking to a buxom woman, her cheeks florid with gin blossoms. They looked t him and seemed torn when they saw his ragged clothing and bedraggled appearance between telling him to leave immediately or ignoring him.

He nodded at the pair and bid them good morning. They grudgingly returned his greeting and the woman said, "you look like you've been long on the road."

The stranger nodded. "Yes, I have been some time travelling."

"Making for the city?" The tall man made it sound as if he hoped he would leave for there now.

The stranger pursed his lips. "Perhaps. Eventually." He looked around at a flagon on the top of the nearby table.

"If that's beer I'll buy a pint if I may. And some bread and perhaps a bit of cheese."

The woman poured a measure into a battered pewter vessel while the man went to the back and emerged with some not quite stale bread and a lump of cheese he'd managed to scrape the mould from. The stranger handed over a few coins; the woman forbear to bite them to test their legitimacy and the stranger pulled up a stool and began to eat and drink.

"Will you be staying here?" she asked of him. He made a non-commital gesture.

"What is your work?" the man enquired.

"I am an apothecary. I offer balm for the sick for those who have no physician near."

The tall man nodded and managed to stop his smile becoming a sneer. A quack, he thought to himself. The stranger ate the last of his bread and cheese and looked sideways at the man through lank greasy hair that needed washing.

"You yourself I noticed limped a little."

The tall man looked at the buxom woman, who was his wife.

"Last week - the mule kicked my husband. We thought his thigh was smashed, so we did."

The stranger drank a draught of the beer and lowered the pewter cup to the table pulling out from the pocket of his greasy top coat a small white muslin bag. He tossed it to the man who caught it and sniffed the contents.

"Make an infusion of it and drink it. It will help the bruising heal."

"Thank you but..."

"It's free. This is good beer - and if it works and if I stay, perhaps you'll let me have my board at your inn a little cheaper." The stranger grinned. There was a noise at the doorway and a man entered.

"Now then," said the tall man turning to face the newcomer. Clearly an atmosphere of old emnity billowed up between the men.

The new man stood, a little apprehensively before the landlord but held his ground. "You know it is the council's decision, not just mine," he said, picking up some old worn conversation. "I have just come for what we ordered." The newcomer's voice was a little high through nerves but the landlord just made a deep grumbling noise and turned away to the back room, calling over his shoulder, "I don't know why you lot bother with her. Let her die."

The man shrugged his shoulders and looked over at the apothecary and then to the landlady.

"That isn't the decision of the council and while she lives - it is a Christian duty to care for her," he said and the buxom woman raised her eyes to heaven and shook her head.

"Karthin, you are a good man but misguided." She emphasised the next words, craning her wrinkled neck forward and pausing after each word. "She is a witch."

Karthin shrugged again and said nothing. From the back the landlord emerged with the honey bread and water and Karthin paid for it and turned quickly and made for the door.

"A witch?" the apothecary said, questioningly.

The tall man looked at him. "There have been many here - very many. But that is over now - apart from her."

"I should like to see this wonder," said the apothecary.

"Then follow Karthin there, the sad ..." The landlord bit back the swearing.

With a nod to his hosts the stranger gathered up his pack and went to the door where the slight figure of the man with the bread could be seen heading down the main street towards the tower of the church. The apothecary followed.

He stopped when he saw the obscene statue and he wondered who had paid for this bizarre memorial to the horror of a burning in all its grizzly detail. From a distance he could see the man and the woman exchanging words and even from there the apothecary could sense the pain the woman was in from her shackles.

Soon she was again alone and he walked slowly forwards. A few children were making to throw stones at her, though when they saw him approach they fell back to wait until he had gone. He stood before her and she turned her obviously blind eyes towards him. He lowered his pack to the ground and squatted beside it drawing out ingredients and mixing a grey paste.

When he was ready he approached the woman who stiffened uncertainly but did not speak. He reached out and took a wrist in his hand and she whimpered, expecting pain from one of the villagers.

"Don't be afraid," his voice came to her ears, calming her with its very cadence. Gently he ran a finger along the chaffing wounds wher the shackles bit her skin and he saw her expression change. He moved to her other wrist and then her ankles.

"Who are you?" she asked softly.

"I am the apothecary," he said simply. "A friend sent me to you."

Alaria and Marc (Severusmax)

I study him, focus on his words, his speech, and his mannerism. I am safe here. He is a Knight, but even I am not foolish enough to know that all Knights are honorable. There are some that are not.

"My crime... is similar to yours. I harbored something they wanted to kill. The power of the beings are strong, but to possess their horns is a great gift and they wanted it."

I stand up, my feet somewhat shaky but walk to the window and gaze out. There are no sounds that don't belong and I sense that if there were the fairy witch would return and alert Sir Marc. I hoped it would.

"I can rest here for a bit... if you'll allow, but I must leave later on when the sun sets and the moon rises. They will worry if I do not return."

Turning back I smile and offer my hand. "Thank you. You are welcome to join me if you like, but if you have another quest you are free to leave me and I will venture further on my own."

When I touch his hand, a spark rises up in me. I pull away and tilt my head. Could he be the one? I thought to myself or was the spark simply something that one has when they are rescued by another? I would have to think this further, for I had to protect not only myself, but the herd of the Unicorns.

Jessamine

Karthin’s departure didn’t leave Jessamine in solitude or silence.

She could tell from the faint gray glow she perceived that the sun was up and shining fully upon her now and part of her was thankful. How did the saying go – ‘one breath closer to death’?

She could hear rustling movements and occasionally a lowered voice or uncomfortable laugh. There was a sharp clicking sound and Jessamine realised it was the boys with their rocks again. Just yesterday one had struck her temple, slicing her skin and knocking her unconscious for what had been some time. The shifting sounds made the wound throb and ache, and with a little sniffling sound of fear she pressed herself closer against – and up – the statue in an attempt to gain enough chain to be able to wrap her hands around and over her head.

The dirty marring of her pale skin and the oily sheen of her ebony hair no longer bothered her – vanity had departed about the time she had started having to void herself in the open. Certainly, the clothing she wore was stained and filthy, as bedraggled and natty as the rest of her; the wrinkled cloth wearing thin in places and ripped in others. The children, however, loved to taunt her for each deformity they perceived in her wretched being – her unruly mass of hair, the sunburned and peeling skin of her face and upper shoulders, every nick and scratch and cut and bruise and tiny smear of dirt upon her drew their derision. Most of all, everyone treated her blindness as if it were some affliction, brought upon her by a sinful nature, despite her innocence in the matter since she had been born such. A resigned part of her hoped that she was at least sparing one of their miserable peers the same horrid treatment.

A sharp biting pain made her flinch and cry out as one of the rocks struck home in her abdomen. Instantly she dragged her legs against her body, hiding behind her extremities and praying their aim would be off today. There was the sound of approaching movement to her right, and Jessa scrabbled awkwardly away along the monuments base. Sometimes… sometimes the crueler ones did worse things than throw stones or call her derisive names. The older ones were the worst… She shuddered and thought of the rent she had tied in her loose neck blouse, her bodice having long since disappeared…

An instant later, a cool and dry hand captured her wrist and she flinched away in fear, hating herself for it and simultaneously turning her face away so she could bury one side of her face against the solid stone plinth.

“Don’t be afraid,” he spoke quietly. His fingertips were gentle – exploring the welts she had been inciting upon her wrist as she fisted her other hand and struggled to evade his grasp despite her bound state. She fell silent and quiescent, and she could hear him moving in front of her before her other hand was taken into a firm grip by strong, capable fingers.

She was fully at his mercy – the shackles of each leg attached to the arm on the same side, so that she could not extend one without tugging at the other, with just enough give between the two to allow her to move to the edges of the square base or crawl down to sit in the grass in the middle. Her strangely-hued eyes might not give her sight, but her hearing was impeccable, and she could hear his steady movements and rhythmic breathing.

Then his hands were drawing at her feet, tucked beneath her hips, and she suppressed a helpless whimper – instead, letting his hands draw at her limbs until he could examine each of her ankles.

“Who are you?”

“I am the apothecary,” came the instant reply. “A friend sent me to you.” Jessamine sobbed openly at this, her body turning limp as she began to shake her head violently back and forth.

“Tell her to hide – tell her to run until they can’t find her, ever! Don’t even speak her name, damn it! These people are obsessed… please, make her go away – make her be safe!” she muttered, her throat choked with unshed tears as she prayed softly for her hunted friend.

Her hand automatically rose to her neck, seeking a silvered crucifix that had long since disappeared.

Jessamine's body shook with passion as the words hissed from her, frightened in case others overhear what she was forced to say to the apothecary.

"Hush, hush," he said softly and sat beside her his arm around her shoulder. "It's all right, she's safe and with all her heart she thanks you for your sacrifice but still she cannot rest to think of your suffering." He lapsed into silence just letting her rest against him, wondering how long it had been since she had had the comfort of another person to touch.

The apothecary stroked her hair thinking how it would look when washed. He sighed and taking more ointment gently caressed the bruises on her shins as he saw an older youth appear in the distance and then run off quickly.

"I will be here for a little while," he said his voice as soothing as the balm that seeped into her skin. He reached into his pack and pulled out a small leather bag in which were dried fruits. Taking the water she had been brought he dropped in a shrivelled apricot and began talking of the far off lands in which they grew, telling her of his long travels and of the fresh fruit.

When the dried wrinkled friuit had plumped a little he pulled it from the water and held it to her mouth, a drop falling from his fingers onto her lower lip. "Will you eat?" Again he whispered to her, "while I am here, one day I will make these fruits whole again, not just dried and restored - but whole, and succulent so their juice will drip down your chin and you will taste the sun of France and Italy. For now - we must make do with this but the time will come for..." he left "magic" unsaid and the sentence unmade and pulled the fresh bread to her side as well.

As he suspected, the child who had run had gone to fetch others and Karthin from the council returned to the statue, followed by a few bedraggled village women and the smith carrying a blank of pig iron in his meaty hand. Karthin looked up to its shackled prisoner and gestured towards the apothecary.

"You - what business have you up there?"

The apothecary looked down as Jessamine curled up beside the statue. "You said yourself, sir, it is a Christian duty to look after her. I am a healer and she was in need."

Karthin sniffed. "Yes. Well - it is our business to look after her."

"I see you're doing a fine job of it." The apothecary picked up one of the stones that littlered the plinthe of the statue and idly threw it up and down in his hand.

"Sir, you must come away from her - if you only knew what you meddle with you would not be so close with her. You can easily become bewitched."

Slowly the apothecary climbed down from the plinthe, his long legs easily covering the distance between himself and the council member who took a step back in the direction of the smith. With a dark eyed gaze the apothecary asked, "and what is it that protects you from her supposed spells?"

Nervously Karthin reached inside his tunic and pulled out a heavy cross encrusted with jewels.

"This was given me by the Archbishop himself. It is blessed. She cannot breach it."

The apothecary studied the object and pointed to a smaller silver cross and thin chain attached to it.

"That," said Karthin, "is part of the proof of her guilt. She wore it upside down around her neck...so I was told... in flagrant blasphemy to Our Lord. It is here next to this blessed cross to restore it to its true meaning."

The apothecary nodded and said nothing in reply except to say he would be in the village for several days and that he would sell his remedies at the market cross for those who would wish to try them.

Almost as an afterthought he said, "you would expect, if this cross you took from her were placed around the neck of a witch, placed properly and not blaspemously, it might cause her much discomfort - perhaps make her skin to chaff and redden? Perhaps provide you a sign indicating her certain damnation?"

Karthin shrugged and frowned, unsure what to say.

"Perhaps - a test is in order?" The apothecary reached out and unwound the chain of the cross from its more ornate neighbour and the councilman stood compliant, watching as he did so. Finally, as if rousing himself from sleep, he said, "I don't know - the council should decide..."

The apothecary smiled. "Perhaps you will be a hero to them - when it shows the truth. Just ensure no one tries to steal it."

His eyes suddenly heavy lidded Karthin did not object further and the apothecary walked back to the statue and knelt beside Jessamine. Gently he replaced her cross around her neck and smiled at her, putting her hand to it.

"I will be back to see you often," he said softly. "Do not despair."

CONNER (RED) MAKAY

The men at arms pass me thru the main gate and into the courtyard of the castle. I move slowly across to the stairs leading into the castle proper. The courtyard was a beehive of activity with horses and men. I climbed the wide steps to the main door where I was stopped by a man who introduced himself as the steward of the castle. He welcomed me and he bid me enter. We walked into the main hall where many flags and banners hung.

"Friends, allies, vistors and enimies", the steward said, "are all here."Are yours among any of these?"

I slowly looked around and turned to my host, "not that I can see, sir." I replied. "I have no banner and I fight for no flag at this time."

We walked on and he explained the many things the castle had to offer. Lodging, food and the use of any of the castles many other amenities. He added that he hoped that I would avail myself of the castles hospitality.

I made inquires about a number of small small items and slowly asked about some of the people I have met and the places such as The Lady Rose Inn. I mentioned the name of Jessamine and drew a very harsh retort from the steward.

"A witch , sir, condemmed by the council and I am proud to say the last of her kind in these parts!" He then said that she was chained to the statue of a witch, just outside the castle. The steward said other duties required his attention and that any of the squires or pages could assit me in any thing that I may want or need. HE bowed, turned on his heel and left.

I moved down a hallway and came upon another hall with tables laden with food and benches to sit. I entered and motioned to a page and he came over. I asked if I could get food and wine to go and he said that was possible.
I thanked him, turned and left, heading for the courtyard.

CONNER (RED) MAKAY

I leave the castle and follow the wall to the west of the gate to a garden area where many statues are set. Just beyond the fringe of the village and set back from sight of the road. I walk among the statues and marvel at their beauty. Set of away from the others is the statue that I seek and at it's base is a woman held in chains.

Walking past, I take note of the two men at arms standing guard. I find a spot close by and so I sit and watch. The first person to come is a man dressed in the colors of the castle and the men at arms. He stops by Jessamine and bends to talk to her. I am to far away to hear what is said, so I just watch.. He tries to offer Jessamine some bread and water and it appears that she refuses his offer. Rejected, the man leaves.

After a short time, a man dressed in poor raiment approaches an stops by Jassamine. He takes her wrist and talks to her while he administers to her physical needs. I am still to far to hear what is being said and the guards pay him no heed. He offers her something to eat and as they converse, the first man returns and confronts the second. Demanding to know what he is doing there.
They seem to argue back and forth and the second man takes something from the first and returns to the woman and puts something around her neck and returns to the first, stops and says something and walks slowly away.

I have seen enough for now and I too walk slowly away from the area. Returning directy to the inn, I stop at the stable and ask that my horse be made ready an to attach my shield to the saddle. I return to my room and remove my tartan and white shirt and done my forest green shirt.

Downstairs I enter the drinking room and get a mug of ale and listen to the locals as they discuss what has happened these last few days. The return of Sir Marc Lanier and the escape of a prisoner from the council. That must be the knight that I saw early this morning. I will have to meet this rogue of a knight. I feel that I have something in common with such a man. The stable boy enters and says my horse is ready. I finish the last of my ale and follow the boy out to the corral. I check everything and mount and walk my horse off in the direction of the south gate.

Riding out the way I came early this morning, I cross the meadow and ride along the treeline. I come to where the knight had picked up the woman and rode off with the others in close persuit. I dimounted and walked around the area and found nothing of any help. Doubling back to where I watched from inside the wood and returned to my original camp. I took a leather bag from behind my saddle and tethered my horse near by. From the bag I take a smaller bag and go to the stream to fill it with the cool clear water.

At the camp, I sit with my back to a tree and take a drink of the water and let my mind go over what is happened today. I am nearly forty years younger, well armed for the time period, I know what I am doing. I am spoiling for a fight that I know is sure to come. I have no doubts as to my ability with these weapons by the way that I handle or don not handle.

"FORTY YEARS YOUNGER", I say to myself. Young, strong and feeling very virile. Something I have not felt in years and now in this place the urge is once more part of my life. "W-H-Y". I have no answer. I look around, smile and have abooming laugh. I feel great and this is going to be a great day. "YES", even a better day yet to come.

I reach into my bag and remove a slice of bread and a wedge of cheese. Taking a bite and chewing slowly, I feel I could whip the known world, or at least this little corner of it. The women, all types, young and old, short or tall, noble and worker. My mind wanders to these lighter thoughts. women.

Yes this has been a great day and I know that it is going to get better.

Cessandra Speaks

Walking up to Conner as he stops to take something to eat from his pouch. Looking very sheepish at the moment as she has no idea what is going on.

"Pardon Me."

"But, do you know where this is and what is going on here?"

"I am very confused."

Almost breaking into tears as she tries to talk to him. Her knees giving out from under her. Her right knee hitting a small rock on the ground cutting it open slightly.

Jessamine

"Hush, hush," her visitor softly said – his warm body lowering itself to sit next to her as he placed a reassuring arm around her shoulder. Jessamine bit back on the instinct to cringe away and instead let the warmth of his presence against her side bring her its intended feeling of comfort. “"It's all right, she's safe and with all her heart she thanks you for your sacrifice but still she cannot rest to think of your suffering."

Jessamine vehemently shook her head, fear sending her body into a semblance of shock as her teeth started chattering together audibly.

“No – no. This is not suffering… suffering is what they wish to inflict upon her. This is fleeting – temporary; a move of ignorance on their part. Another few days and it will be over anyways, so it doesn’t matter,” she muttered a tad incoherently, her hands scrubbing in irritation at her cheeks lest the people nearby see the spate of emotion and attempt to pry its cause out of her. Instead, she dragged her arms back and forth – letting the chains clank noisily as she further rubbed and tore at the leather strips, her expression a little wild as she did so.

Light fingers sifted themselves through her hair and against her scalp, and she abruptly quieted – her limbs once more drawing up against her body as she wrapped her arms around them and quietly rocked back and forth. Her visitor sighed and she fell still, turning her face towards his with a faint frown as curiosity prompted her tongue movement even as caution tried to still it. But then his voice rose once more, and she found herself biting back the words and then forgetting them entirely.

"I will be here for a little while," he spoke softly, his light fingertips now smoothing a cool and soothing mixture against her bruised shins. She tried not to flinch beneath his gentle ministrations, his feather-light touch arousing her curiosity even as she remained silent. His hands withdrew, but his body remained, and she could feel his limbs and balance shifting as he did something on the opposite side. Patient and knowing of the way of the sighted, she sat in polite thought as his low voice spoke of exotic fruits and far off lands, lulling her tired senses into a semblance of peace, her head relaxing against a jutting stone flame as she closed her eyes and gave a wry smile.

The quality of gray light inside her eyes changed and she jerked upwards abruptly, startling as a cool, moist piece of fruit was pressed against her lips – a flavored droplet of water spilling down her surprise-parted mouth and dribbling down her chin before escaping down the sagging neck of her crude blouse. Her hands instinctively moved the cloth to wipe at the moisture before it fell further, her mouth reluctantly opening under the influence of his fingers and gentle voice.

"Will you eat?"

Unlike Karthin, she knew this stranger would not take no for an answer – and instead she reluctantly gave in to his urging and let the food pass into her mouth. She chewed at it slowly, carefully – the flesh was a little tough, and she realized it must have been dried and remoistened while they talked. Yet its taste was sweet, ambrosial, and she chewed it slowly and carefully, savoring in the taste.

The apothecary continued to talk softly and she listened with half an ear, more interested in experiencing the novel and utterly sinful taste and texture of the edible treasure – but she knew this man to be a friend of her only friend, and so nodded her head in understanding at his unspoken intimations. The tin plate upon which Karthin had left her bread rattled along the surface of the stone base and she realized he had shifted it until it pushed up against her opposing hip.

Her head lifted warily as she heard many footsteps approaching, and she instinctively tried to hide herself against the cold, painfully solid stone behind her.

"You - what business have you up there?" cried out Karthin. Jessamine could hear the tremor in his voice and wondered whether it was of fear or anger.

"You said yourself, sir, it is a Christian duty to look after her. I am a healer and she was in need." Her new acquaintance spoke slowly and respectfully, yet she could sense the thread of steel beneath his soft voice and sensible words.

Karthin sniffed. "Yes. Well - it is our business to look after her."

"I see you're doing a fine job of it." The apothecary’s voice was well modulated and she struggled to find even the slighted thread of mockery in it as the growing pile of rocks before the statue shifted noisily.

"Sir, you must come away from her - if you only knew what you meddle with you would not be so close with her. You can easily become bewitched."

The warmth and presence at her side shifted away, and Jessamine bit back an angered accusation of betrayal before rolling to her left side and showing her back to the group now gathered beyond the statue. Her leg kicked out as she moved, sending the tin platter of bread rolling away into the high grass – and the racket it made as it went made her feel a little better. Attempting to ignore all else, she nestled her head against a niche in the stone and closed her eyes, her legs tucked against her body and her arms wrapped around them.

"And what is it that protects you from her supposed spells?" Asked the apothecary, followed by some barely audible shifting and a soft stirring.

"This was given me by the Archbishop himself. It is blessed. She cannot breach it." This was followed by more subtle sounds and some movement. "That," said Karthin, "is part of the proof of her guilt. She wore it upside down around her neck...so I was told... in flagrant blasphemy to Our Lord. It is here next to this blessed cross to restore it to its true meaning."

Lying, thieving, hateful bastards! Jessamine mentally raged, her hands fists where they dug into the flesh of her knees. Seemingly apropos nothing, the apothecary mentioned his remaining in town and his goal to peddle his wares in the town.

"You would expect, if this cross you took from her were placed around the neck of a witch, placed properly and not blaspemously, it might cause her much discomfort - perhaps make her skin to chaff and redden? Perhaps provide you a sign indicating her certain damnation?" The apothecary added, and Jessamine frowned in irritation at his rambling trains of thought. "Perhaps - a test is in order?"

"I don't know - the council should decide..." Karthin sounded bemused and drowsy, and Jessamine slowly sat up stiffly upon her stone prison.

"Perhaps you will be a hero to them - when it shows the truth. Just ensure no one tries to steal it." She could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke.

Steps approached, and Jessamine steeled herself for contact – or even a blow. Instead, a warm slithering object slipped around her neck – a heavy, familiar weight at the bottom making her gasp in amazed surprise. Her crucifix! The stranger took her hand and pressed the silver cross against her palm and she locked her hand tight around it – lips moving silently as she slipped into the Lords prayer and then a psalm.

"I will be back to see you often," he said softly. "Do not despair."

Jessamine couldn’t help her wry smile – the despair had departed days ago. Instead, she simply nodded her acquiescence and turned her face away.

“Go, then. There is naught left for you to do here – ‘twould be best if you’d leave altogether. They are content in their findings and will search no further for … her – as I have given them nothing to seek her with. Please keep it that way.” She murmured, her throat constricted with tears as she dealt with a conflicting slew of emotions.

CONNER (RED) MCKAY

Sitting there with my back against a tree and thinking about women. I am startled by the approach of a beautiful young woman with long golden hair. I start to rise as she crosses the small clearing.

"Pardon me", she says, "But do you know where this is and what is going on here." As she is speaking her legs seems to falter and she drops to the ground, slightly cutting her knee. "I am very confused!"

I cross over to her and gently help her to rise and then assist her over to my small camp and lean her back againt the tree. I look at her knee and I see that it is only slightly cut.

"My name is Conner, but my friends call me Red", Smiling at her as I offer a drink of water from my bag. She accepts the water and takes a long drink and returns the bag to me. I pour out a little water and was the small cut on her knee. She is shaking a little and I can see tears in her eyes.

I sit down next to the young woman and tried to tell her about the things that I have learned this day. I told her too that I did not know exactly where we were and that I was not from here either. I offered her some bread and cheese and continued to tell my story. I finished my short story and she appeared to have calmed down. I placed my arm around her shoulders and held her gently and waited patiently for her to tell me her story.

The day now was getting more interesting. What was next, I had no idea. So far this has been a very nice day.

Cessandra

Acepting the water gracously. Taking a long drink. Listening to his stor as he tells it. "Thank you for the water and food." Take a small portion of his food slowly eating it savoring the taste of the small meal. Leaning into him a little more when he puts his arm around her. Her head leaning into his chest.

"Well Red my name is Cessandra. My friends call me Cess." Her tears floating just behind her eyes recide as they talk. Though still confused about where they are she is comforted to hear that she is not alone in thing this place strange yet wonderful. Finding his tales of his days events enteresting to say the least. Admiring his shield and weapons. Never having seen one that was real and ment for use. This making her feel not so much at ease but then she remembers how nuce he has been to her. Not thinking he would hurt her.

"I don't know where to begin with my own story. I am just a plain person working a boring job from nine to five. Though that was before I showed up here where ever here is. I'm not even sure if I will ever see my old life again. I awoke other there." *Pointing beyond the trees from his little camp near some statues. The ground showing that one has rescently been removed. "I was one of the statues I think when I came here. For I was standing where there seemed to be a statue. Plus when I started to move around I was rather stiff like stone."

"So do you think the people of the village are nice or not?"

RedHairedandFriendly said:

I study him, focus on his words, his speech, and his mannerism. I am safe here. He is a Knight, but even I am not foolish enough to know that all Knights are honorable. There are some that are not.

"My crime... is similar to yours. I harbored something they wanted to kill. The power of the beings are strong, but to possess their horns is a great gift and they wanted it."

I stand up, my feet somewhat shaky but walk to the window and gaze out. There are no sounds that don't belong and I sense that if there were the fairy witch would return and alert Sir Marc. I hoped it would.

"I can rest here for a bit... if you'll allow, but I must leave later on when the sun sets and the moon rises. They will worry if I do not return."

Turning back I smile and offer my hand. "Thank you. You are welcome to join me if you like, but if you have another quest you are free to leave me and I will venture further on my own."

When I touch his hand, a spark rises up in me. I pull away and tilt my head. Could he be the one? I thought to myself or was the spark simply something that one has when they are rescued by another? I would have to think this further, for I had to protect not only myself, but the herd of the Unicorns.

Click to expand...

This lady was very different. There was something mysterious about her. She clearly had a different sense of mission. I was willing to aid her, since I was frankly without a war to fight at the moment. The Duke had dispensed of my services, leaving me as a free lance. That had cost me land and power, but it also gave me freedom to live as I pleased. I had resolved to find my own path to greatness, rather than as the knight of some superstitious Duke. The fairy witch and this strange girl were the start.

"What is your work? Do you need aid? Since the Duke banished me, I have had nothing else to do but whatever appears to me. You seem to have some urgency, whereas I am looking for a cause to give me a new opportunity. Soon, of course, I will have one. But, until then, I am willing to aid you."

cONNER (RED) MCKAY

"I am very pleased to meet you Cessandra." I reply and she leans closer to me and lays her head on my chest as she continues telling me about herself. She finishes and looks up at me still with tears in her eyes, Crysral blue eyes that should not have tears or anguish in them. But rather laughter and love should shine in these eyes.

"You look about 19 years old. Is that your true age , Cess?" I ask. I feel that I must tell you that when I awoke this morning, I found to my surprise that I am forty years younger than I was last night.

The people in the village are like any group, good and bad, some friendly and you have to watch others. The castle seems safe and afords travelers shelter and protection along with food and drink. I am staying at the Lady Rose Inn. Alittle less crowded and that is where the nicer people in the village seem to hang out.

Have you made any decisions on what you want to do. I can escort you into the village or castle and make sure you are safe and settled.

"Do you have any means of support, money or jewels?", I ask her. I have a large and comfortable room at the Inn if you want to stay with me, or I can take you to the castle. I lift her head up by her chin and smile down at her.

"I would really like you to stay with me!" Smiling I lean forward and I kiss Cess lightly on her lips. Please think about it. I hold up the water bag and stand. "I'll be right back, we need fresh water." I walk off quickly towards the stream, humming a highland tune. Where did that come from, I do not know the tune. Well not to worry. A beautiful woman and a good day getting better.

Cess is a nice lass and I hope she chooses to stay with me. I can protect her and together find a way out. I fill the water bag and quickly return to camp.