Nightingale Uncaged

[the_book_wyrm]

OOC Open thread, feel free to join in as long as you are interested in telling a story.

If there had been anyone in the room to observe her, the fear would have been evident in Shayla's eyes as she frantically stuffed her possesions into her rucksack. Ocassionally she would pause, her head cocked to the side like a wild beast, listening, then she would go back to the headlong rush she was making through the room.

Clothing, tallows, flint and steel and other miscallanious objects went into the pack in no particular order. She looked longingly at the small harp that sat beside her bed, but knew it had no place in this journey. Before she had finished going through her room, a sound outside the door made her freeze. There it was again, the quiet tap of a foot on the stone floor.

Almost paniced now, she through the rucksack out the window where it landed with a quiet thunk on the grass two stories below. As a key scraped in the door, she climbed onto the windowsill and grabbed the ivy that grew up the palace walls. She knew that the furniture that she had placed in front of the door wouldn't hold for long. In a manner that was more a controlled fall then climbing, she dropped to the grass and grabbed her rucksack and dove into the moat, holding the pack above her and hoping that they wouldn't think to look out the window until she was out of sight.

Everyone at the palace assumed that she was frail and sickly, an assumption that she was happy to allow to continue as it allowed her greater freedoms. Much less effort was put into guarding her, and so as long as she was careful, she had run of the place. Now however, her father intended to marry her to a man whose cruelty was whispered about by the palace servants, whom she had befreinded.

Unable to bear the thought of being wed to such a cruel man, she had planned to flee, but had been unprepared when her wedding date was suddenly moved up without explaination and had been forced to run without being ready.

Heaving a sigh of relief as she climbed out of the smelly water, she dashed to the forest, which she knew like the back of her hand. Once there, the guards would have a difficult time finding her.

The quiet darkness of the forest closed over her head, and she relaxed slightly, but still she kept a brisk walking pace, avoiding the paths and trying to leave as little of a trial as possible, walking down streams so that the hounds would be unable to track her. Finally, after several hours of walking, she stopped in a small clearing beside a river and pulled out the round of cheese she had stolen from the kitchen. Settling down on a fallen log, she pulled a piece of cheese from the round and began to eat.

 

[Zircon]

The Woodcutter

Ah! The morning was almost here. The false dawn in the horizon greeted Isarion as he carried on his chores before breakfast. There was a peaceful quiet around him. The only sound in the woods was his axe biting into the tree trunk. The birds and creatures were asleep.

He was suited for the lonely life of a simple woodcutter. He disliked the trappings of civilization, and the evils of society. Although he occasionally longed for company and intelligent conversation. Talking to birds and squirrels can only cover so many topics. And talking to farmers was definitely uninteresting as the conversation inevitably turned to the weather. Talking to farmers’ wives and daughters was however sometimes interesting. Gossip and sex ruled over these conversations. Although Isarion much preferred to have sex than talk about it.

He was whistling as he carried the haft of the tree back to his cabin. He was a medium height man, with broad shoulders. His jet-black hair was to his neck. His eyes, disconcerting when boring into people, was deep brown. He was strong, as strong as any man who got up before dawn, and worked all day.

Isarion stopped and looked at his cabin before descending to it. He loved the sight of the long silvery wisps of smoke rising from chimney in the morning light. There was a small spring at the back. The cabin, from afar, looked like the hovels of villages around these parts. But on closer inspection, it was very well made. The fit of the logs was tight. The thin layer of dried mud and sap on the surface made it almost weatherproof. And the winters here do get nasty.

But Isarion sighed. Doubtless he was lonely. He had not met a woman who would share his isolation. He shook his head when he entered his cabin. Time enough to mull on the cruelties of life when breakfast was finished. His stomach growled as he cooked the meat on the metal skillet. The spices that he had brought back from his travels were running out. He did not know where he would replenish his stock when it finally ran out.

The sun was peering shyly through the trees and mountains, as Isarion sat on the bench outside and ate. He looked at the forest coming alive before him. The chores of the say were never done. After breakfast he would have to check his traps. Fall was already here, and his preparation for winter had only just begun.

 

[the_book_wyrm]

After a short rest and a quick meal break, Shalya stood and began to walk through the forest again. She paused occasionally listening for followers, but heard nothing. Still, she didn't relax, she was expecting to be found at any time.

The morning sun rose to midsky as she walked, and then began to drop lower in the sky. She kept walking, growing more and more tired, for she hadn't been active for this long before. The landmarks grew unfamiliar as she approached an area of the forest that she hadn't been before.

The sky stained red, she was reminded of the blood. She wondered what creatures of this forest would like to drink hers. Darkness began to threaten, and she was getting hungry and frightened as well. Unfamiliar sounds came from all sides, each of them a potential threat to her mind. Still it grew darker and she began to stumble over unseen obstacles.

The path grew more difficult to see for there was no moon on this night. She continued walking, for she didn't know what else to do. Nothing that she saw looked like a good place to stop and sleep. Finally she realized that she had wandered off the path and there were too many obstacles for the failing light. About to stop, she stepped toward a large stump where she intended to consider what to do.

Suddenly a horrid pain lanced through her ankle and she screamed, falling to the ground. Gasping in agony, she felt down her leg to feel something metal cllamped around her ankle. She tried to pry the cruel jaws apart, but was not stong enough. Afraid to cry out lest the castle gaurd be nearby, she curled up the best she could and wept into the soft earth.

 

[Zircon]

Isarion

Isarion was growing frustrated. He had spent almost the entire morning checking and re-baiting most of the traps. The creatures of the forest were getting smarter. They saw through the carefully prepared traps and camouflage. Some of the bait were even half eaten but the traps were not sprung. He wondered if he would get enough pelts to trade. If he did not have enough to trade, then he would not be able to get enough hops for his beer supply for the winter. Currently, he only had three quarters of what he needed from the previous winter.

Although the forest canopy protected him from the harsh sun of the day, it was still fairly warm. Isarion was resigned to traipsing through the forest sweating like a pig. If he had taken his shirt off, he knew he would be sunburned by the end of the day.

The cool waters of a stream offered him respite, when he stopped for his mid day meal. The hard tack bread was difficult to swallow. While eating, he continuously told himself that the cheese made the bread edible. He had made the bread and cheese himself. And like any good cook, only self praise was worthy of the effort. He was very glad when the last piece of cheese was devoured by a curious squirrel.

Isarion wanted to stay by the stream and wrestle with the fishes for a while. But as always, work came before play. He had one last longing look at the swirling dark waters before going to check the last of his traps. He was disappointed to find that the afternoon was similar to morning. Creatures of the forest were getting too few, and too smart. He shuddered at the thought that he would have to expand the range of where he positions his traps. Then, a day’s walk would turn into at least two days of camping out in the forest.

The sun was well past its zenith when Isarion went to check the last two of his traps. His water was almost gone, and his leg muscles were burning with tiredness. Staying by the stream fishing would have been a much better prospect. At least he would have gotten something for dinner.

Sighing, Isarion stepped over a large stump to check. He was careful not to step on his own trap. Suddenly, he jumped straight up into the air. As he landed, he drew his knife. The mass by the trap was moving. In the dim light he could not discern the shape.
Good! Some stupid creature had gotten trapped. His luck was finally changing for the better. Isarion’s knife approached the dark mass slowly.

‘WHAT THE…’

 

[the_book_wyrm]

It was almost full dark when Shayla heard the rustling of a large creature moving through the woods. She froze, not wanting to attract the attention of a bear or something worse. Still the movement grew nearer. She closed her eyes, remaining in the fetal position that she had pulled herself into.

Suddenly the cry of "WHAT THE?" permiated the air, causing her to jump and involuntarily cringe. The movement made her leg shift in the trap and she cryed aloud, but immediatly shifted her attention to whatever had found her.

In the dim light she could discern the shape of a man. "Please sir," she said, her voice catching in pain. "Please, the trap... it hurts..." At the moment the trap was more frightening then the man.

 

[Zircon]

Isarion

‘Please sir…’ What in the in names of the Seven Gods…

It was a female voice that cut through the silence of the evening. A woman had been caught in his trap. Apparently, Isarion’s luck had not changed for the better. It had just gotten worse. For a long while, he just stood there, dumbfounded. He still had his knife drawn, in case the woman was faking being trapped. He had never caught anything so big before, and he wondered how he was going to carve it up into smaller pieces for dinner.

But Isarion was not a cannibal. He removed the cannibalistic tendencies from his mind. She was writhing in a painful manner. Her sobs were growing louder. He knew that he had to do something.

‘Please. Please don’t move your leg. I’ll remove the trap. If you move, it’ll be more painful.’

Isarion carefully spread the jaws apart, and the leg came free. It was bleeding profusely, and soon his hands were wet from blood. He re-pin the trap, and stood up.

‘Try to stand up. If you can’t, I’ll carry you. The forest is no place to be at night. I don’t have a bow or a sword. We need to hurry back to my cabin. Here’s some water. There is not much left…’ He handed her his water pouch.

 

[the_book_wyrm]

When the man told her not to move, she froze and held perfectly still, knowing that his words were true. The immediate relief she felt when the jaws were pried apart disappeared suddenly when blood rushed to her deprived foot.

"Can you stand?" she heard him ask through the haze of pain. "If not I'll carry you," A flash of pride went through her eyes. Carried? Not if she could help it. She took the offered water with a soft "Thank you," and sipped at it, for she had been a while without, and her rucksack had landed outside of her reach when she had fallen. He was right, there wasn't much and she finished the lukewarm water still thirsty, but handed the canteen back without indicating that.

She stood slowly, putting all of her weight on her good leg and using a tree to help her into a standing position. When she placed her bad leg on the ground, trying to put weight on it, unexpectedly strong pain lanced up it and she reached out and grabbed the trapper's shoulder, then flinched away almost as quickly as she made contact. She bit her lip and did her best to school her face into a neutral expression. With a few hobbles she reached her pack and lifted it to her shoulder. With the same flash of pride, she took a few steps away from the trap. "I can walk fine," she managed to say, tension straining her voice. Within a few steps however it was obvious that while she could walk, it would be noon two days hence by the time she was able to make it to his cabin. It was equally obvious by the set of her shoulders that she would not be terribly willing to be picked up by him. If she was to be picked up, it would have to be by force.

 

[Zircon]

Isarion

‘I can walk fine…’

Isarion saw immediately that she could not possibly make it back to the cabin. Not alone on one good foot tonight at least. In the distance he could hear the more ferocious night creatures stirring. They needed to get back to the cabin right now.

Isarion was finding that her noble airs was grating on his nerves. It was obvious that she was in pain. He wanted to help her, and in turn help himself. Being unarmed in the forest at night was dangerous. He wished he had brought his axe along, instead of fish hooks and bait.

Then, Isarion got a very pleasant surprise when she leaned into Isarion’s shoulder, and flinched back just as quick. He felt a hot flush in his face which dissipated quite slowly. He turned, grateful that the dim light hid his embarrassment. He made the pretense of looking around for a piece of wood to accost any unfriendly squirrels or owls. All he found were dead wood and small branches. He was pleased when he found a piece of oak, stout and long, after searching for a while. It could be used as a temporary crutch or a cudgel.

He started walking towards his cabin. Behind him, he could hear the suppressed cries of pain.

‘WOOOOOO…’

The cries of a wolf. Isarion knew that they were in greater danger than ever before. He turned to see the very slow progress that they were making. They had very little choice now.

Isarion gritted his teeth and strode towards her. With one great swoop of his hand, he scooped her up onto his shoulders. He did not ask for or wait for permission to do so. She was trailing blood. And wolves would go after hurt creatures just as easily as they would go after healthy ones.

‘Sorry, Miss. But we’re in a hurry…’

 

[the_book_wyrm]

Shayla followed Isarion, the pain making movement difficult. She could feel the blood trickling down her ankle onto her foot.

The sound of the wolves made her shiver. She had been told stories about the unnatturally large wolves that frequented these woods. Since she had never seen one, she had doubted the reality of the tales that she heard. Now she wondered.

She froze when Isarion turned and came back to her, unsure of what he meant to do. When he scooped her up, she shrieked in fear and pounded on his hard back for a moment. Then the wolves called again, closer this time.

WoooOOOOOoooooo

The lesser of two evils was likely having this man carry her, over becoming lunch meat for the wolves. She relaxed and allowed the man to carry her without interference. Her pack dangled from her shoulders, and she shifted it slightly so that it would not interfere with her saviour's movements.

This was the first time a man had had such close contact with her and despite the pain she found herself noticing the hardness of his fit body. As he walked, the muscles in his shoulders shifted beneth her. This distraction made her almost forget the pain in her leg. She placed a hand on his back, thinking that he wouldn't notice with the speed he was going, and just allowed herself to feel the sliding of the muscles under her palm. She found herself feeling an unfamiliar warmth through her body, but before she had opportunity to examine this new sensation the wolves cried out yet again.

WoooOOoooo

WooOOOOOOoooooo

WooooooOoooOooo

It sounded like they were in front and on both sides of them. Despite the dim light, motion off to her right caught her attention.

For the moment forgetting the fear she felt for him in the greater fear she felt for these wolves, she hissed, "There's something to the right of us, I just saw it move."

 

[Zircon]

Isarion

‘There's something to the right of us, I just saw it move.’

Isarion could only nod. He heard it too. He tried to hurry, grateful for the consideration of the lady with her silence and acquiesce. His entire body was burning ever more so. His mouth was parched. He used his memory of this part of the forest to guide him. The thick canopy prevented the moon from lighting his way. He was very glad that he had good memory.

The wolves were quiet now. And that frightened Isarion more than the howling. The wolves were planning something. Something that would snag them an easy meal tonight.

He stopped to catch his breath. The entire forest was unearthly quiet now. Not a rustle of leaves or bush. Not a twig snag. All Isarion could hear was his heavy breathing. And the breath of a scared and hurt lady on his shoulders. He had a decision to make. Drop her and make a mad dash towards to safety of his cabin, or…

Isarion grabbed her waist tighter, and ran. He did not know where his strength was coming from. Maybe from the fear of being eaten alive. From afar, he just looked like a mad man running away with a hostage on his shoulders.

In the back of his mind, he had a plan. It was a bold gamble. Only he knew where the traps lay. And in the frenzy of the hunt that wolves would get into, he hoped that the well camouflaged traps would slow them down. At least enough to give the time he needed.

‘WOOOOOOOO…

The howls suddenly broke through. And the wolves, three of them leapt from their places, teeth bared and blood shot eyes shining in the dark. Isarion weaved and ducked. He jumped and leapt. He bit on his tongue, drawing blood. He tasted the fiery metallic taste, as he prayed to the Seven Gods that the wolves would be slowed enough. Behind him, he heard several traps being sprung. And then, he saw his cabin, and the welcome candlelight shining from the window.

Isarion’s joy was short-lived when he saw bounding in a perpendicular path to him another wolf. This one was big. Its silver fur bunching up together with its muscles. Its long stride closing the distance between him and the cabin. It would be race to see who has more speed and stamina.

CRASH!

Isarion was so close to winning this race when he tripped over a log. Both of them fell with a loud thud.

Isarion shouted to her, ‘MISS! RUN! RUN INSIDE! I’LL HOLD HIM OFF… THERE’S A BOW HANGING BY THE DOOR. RUN! AND GET IT!’

 

[the_book_wyrm]

Shayla stood with difficulty and tried to run towards the safety of the house. Her ankle made that impossible and all she managed was a midspeed hobble. Each step was pure agony making her sure that she would be unable to get the bow back out to him. She knew that she would be unable to shoot it either.

For a moment she considered just going into the house and barricading herself in leaving him to the wolves. She looked back to where he was standing at the ready to fend the wolves off. He could have just run past her into the house and left her to the wolves the same way she was considering doing to him.

There's only one thing I can think of doing, and I don't know if I can do it. I've only ever tried with the mice in the palace and that didn't take much power. I hope the magehunters aren't patrolling this area.

She stopped hobbling about halfway to the house and turned to face the animals. She took a deep breath focusing her attention on the animals. She hit a note in her mid upper range with all of her power, at the same time concentrating on pushing the animals away. She could feel more power then she had ever used before flow through her voice and she could feel it draining her. She slid up her range until a piercingly high note echoed through the dark woods.

The wolves froze where they were when she hit the first note, then as it grew higher they took a couple of steps backwards, shaking their heads, then abruptly whirled and ran away, yelping, with their tails between their legs. All except for the big one. He froze like the others, shaking his head and he stood his ground for longer, then he turned and ran with his tail up. Before doing that though he glared at Shayla with an intelligence that she would have found terrifying had she seen it.

As Shayla continued the note, she found herself growing weak. She could feel the energy draining out of her, but didn't know how to moderate the flow. She kept singing until black shapes danced at the corners of her vision and she slumped slowly to the ground, the note trailing off as her conciousness fled.

 

[Zircon]

Isarion

The lone wolf covered the distance at great speed and strength. Meanwhile, he was praying for forgiveness for all his sins so that when he gets to Hell he would be judged fairly. He gripped the staff tighter. He knew that he did not stand a chance. The wolf was much stronger and quicker. Isarion, on the other hand was tired to the bone. His eyes was close to seeing double. He was sure that he did not have the strength to swing more than ten times.

After his quick prayer for forgives, he continued to pray for a miracle. And then the miracle happened. Faintly at first, the sound grew and grew. Until Isarion dropped to his knees and covered his ears in pain. The pain eventually shot up to his brain, and Isarion was flat on the ground grimacing. And he waited for the wolf to start tearing him apart.

He shut his eyes, waiting but he could feel and hear the wolves running away. When his brain was about to explode, the sound diminished, and in turn the pain. After a while, he opened his eyes and could see no wolves around. With the help of the staff, he got up slowly. He leaned on it, still unsure of his legs. It had been quite a night. He offered a brief prayer of thanks to the Seven Gods. He also vowed to sacrifice something in Their honor.

Isarion turned to find that the woman had collapsed into unconsciousness. He wondered briefly whether he should continue to help the Sorceress. He hated magik and it users. But she did save his worthless hide, and that should account for something.

Shaking her shoulders did not wake her up. Isarion sighed, as he picked her up and took her into the cabin. He laid her on his bed, and pulled the covers over her. On an impulse, he ran his sweaty fingers through her soft silky hair. It had been a while since he had been with a woman. He sighed again and went to bar the windows and door very securely. The wolves might be back after they had recovered.

He was hungry, but he did not have enough strength to cook. He was out of bread, but the piece of cheese had stopped his stomach from grumbling. Drinking some beer to alleviate his thirst and partially his hunger, Isarion sat and looked at the peaceful face of the girl. She was beautiful no doubt. He shook his head in resignation. He knew that he needed to stop thinking with his body, and start thinking with his head on top of his neck. She was a Sorceress. And magik users tend to bring trouble. As if this girl was not trouble even if she was not a Sorceress.

A woman wondering alone in the forest had set off alarm bells in Isarion’s mind. He chuckled when his tired brain suggested that she might be a an evil witch disguised as a beautiful woman to entrap suitable males for breeding or food. Then he slapped himself in the face as that thought trailed off. Stop thinking in such a way, he told himself again and again, as he rolled the blanket by the hearth. His face bore reddish marks as he closed his eyes and let the tiredness envelop him by the smoldering embers of the hearth.

 

[Zircon]

Isarion

Isarion awoke reluctantly. Upon consciousness of his whereabouts, pain from his tired body immediately invaded him. He contemplated on letting sleep overtake him again. But his body, true to its rhythm, did not allow to him to do so. Sighing for the umpteenth time, he rose and rolled his beddings into a neat pile. Even as a bachelor, he did have some sense of neatness. His little cabin attested to that.

He stretched his sore muscles for a while, hearing the creaks of bones all the time. Doubtless, the hard floor did not do justice to his rest. His eyes were still bleary when he started the fire at the hearth. The water was beginning to boil before he noticed the slumped figure on his bed. It was then that the cobwebs in his mind cleared to remind him why he was sleeping on the floor.

With frequent furtive glances to the figure, Isarion made a hearty soup for breakfast. While it simmered in the pot, he walked towards the figure, unsure of his intentions. When he got close, he saw her face, and felt a hot flush throughout his body. Suppressing it, he instead concentrated on her injured leg. He could see that she had stopped bleeding, the blood around the area had dried up. Examining it closer, Isarion realized that unless he did something, the leg would be gangrenous in a while.

He gathered some hot water and proceeded to gently clean the wound. The Sorceress was moaning, no doubt in pain, as he cleaned the wound. After he was convinced that the wound is clean, he proceeded to apply some healing poultice. Lastly, the clean bandages, remnants of one of his clean shirt, wrapped around the leg. It would be a while before she could walk again. But there were no doubts that she would be able to walk like normal when the wounds healed.

Isarion supped quietly as he continued to watch for signs of life. His own cuts and bruises were easy enough to attend to. Besides, the women in the villages were impressed with scars, and he had many. The tales of how he got them would have to be embellished, but that was a small price to pay for fame and the warmth of the female kind. His thoughts were whirling at what sort of exciting trouble that the Sorceress would bring to his staid life. It was not everyday that an ordinary man would be face to face with one who worked magik.

And the sun slowly filtered through the curtains, illuminating and warming the little cabin in the forest. When she wakes up, it would be very interesting to see what kind of mess that she was in…

 

[SecretDesires]

Shayla's body felt hot then cold and she tossed and turned in a half awake dream world where she was being chased by her father, he intended and their soldiers and servants. As the dream went on, she was surrounded and suddenly they all turned into wolves with red eyes and growling, slobbering mouths full of sharp teeth.

Waking with a cry, Shayla looked around in a panic not knowing where she was and the unfamiliar surroundings not helping her feelings of fear.

Finally he gaze settled on the man before the hearth and the events of the night came rushing back to her, as well as the pain in her ankle and she cried out, bending to clutch at her throbbing leg.

Breathing deeply, she began to sing soft and low, a song of healing and she could feel the muscles and tendons knitting beneath her hand. Not a pleasant feeling but she was relieved that the song was working. When she was done, she removed the bandages and was pleased to see that the healing process, while not complete, had sped up and that the pain had settled to a dull throbbing.

Trying to stand, she winced as the movement brought a fresh round of sharp pain but she refused to admit to herself or this man that she could not hold her own.

Looking around she said,"My pack? Where is my pack? I have to leave before...." She stopped herself before she spilt any more of her secrets and began to hobble around looking for her belongings.

 

[Zirconn]

Isarion

“Good morning, M’Lady. Your pack is right there, underneath the bed. You’re in no condition to be up and standing. Here let me help you…” The momentary contact with the soft flesh under her arms was forever etched in Isarion’s mind. It made his heart pump faster than before. The familiar warm flush throughout his body.

He was pleasantly surprised and not surprised, when she did not really require his help. At least she’s back to her noble manners. That was a good sign of recovery from the previous night’s ordeal with the wolves. He himself had recovered as well, although that last silver wolf was so intent to destroying instead of looking for a meal that he had suspected magik was at play. Or maybe that the Sorceress in his own cabin brought on those thoughts.

Anyway, he walked back to hearth and the simmering pot of stew.

“Here, breakfast, M’Lady…” as he held out a bowl to her. A little bit of manners in front of a Sorceress would not hurt. She might even be a good ally in fights, or pulling wool over the store keeper when he goes to get his supplies. That cheater of a store keeper might get his just deserts…

Her eyes shone in the steam that came from the bowl. And Isarion just could not keep his own eyes from her little bow of lips as spoonfuls of the hearty stew reached it. He was automatically eating from his bowl, but his mind was now whirling with all sorts of possibilities, mischief and danger. A Sorceress. A real life Sorceress right here in his little cabin, eating from his bowl and spoon.

“I can warm up some water if you require a bath, M’Lady… Perhaps after, you can tell me how can I help…” The first part, mischief…

 

[SecretDesires]

Shayla stood there as he held out the stew, her bottom lip caught between her teeth and her eyes going from the pack under the bed to the bowl in front of her. She was indecisive. She felt she had to move on and soon especially after using her magice abilities not once but twice within such a short period of time. Finally the growl that started in her stomach decided for her and she sat down and began to eat.

The stew was really quite good and she was absorbed in the process of quieting her insides when his questions caught her unawares. Looking up at him she caught her very first, really good look at him. It startled her a bit. She had heard many stories of the lowly peasants that dotted the land, usually spoken of with hushed tones by those of nobility and described and common looking and unwashed. The man before her did not seem to fit the descriptions she had heard of them.

He was in need of a bath, of course. After what they went through last night she was in need of one as well. But he was handsome...in a rugged sort of way. His hands were rough from the manual labor he had spent a lifetime doing and his skin was brown from the sun, wrinkles starting to appear from his constant exposure to that heavenly body.

In contrast her own skin was almost milk white and anyone could tell she had done little besides her school work, stiching and any other task that was considered lady like for a noble's daughter. As the man before her cleared his throat she was brought back to the fact that she had not answered his questions and she put down the spoon, reaching up to smooth down her hair a bit before doing so.

"I...I don't know if I will have time for a bath. Thank you for your generous offer," She said trying not to sound to much like a noble talking down to one beneath her station. She realized she was in reality a guest in his house and here at his disgression and not her own. Not to mention he had basically rescued her and saved her life last night.

"I must leave as soon as I can," She added wondering how much to tell him. She did not want to involve him but it felt nice not to feel so alone in this frightening thing. "I can't say why but the longer I stay here the more dangerous it is for me...and for you. Thank you for the meal. It was quite nice."