"You're braver than I took you for," Erik remarked from the back of his horse, looking down on the young woman. Nadya looked up at him over her shoulder with a bright smile brushing off her hands and sitting back on her heels in the soft soil.

"Why is that?"

"Just yesterday you were attacked by a pair of men out here, but here you are."

Nadya stood and patted the large horse's neck. "Life doesn't stop because of swine like them. Are you going back on your way?"

Erik nodded and Nadya dug into the apron around her deep blue skirt and held up a small bundle tied neatly with a piece of twine. "Some bread and dried meat for your journey," she explained.

"How did you know I'd be passing by this way?" Erik asked, and Nadya's eyes lit up in amusement.

"If I were a halfway decent performer I would remind you I tell fortunes and that would be that. But I'm not, so I'll admit I didn't know. I always carry a little bread and meat, but you're welcome to it."

"Your performance yesterday was quite marvelous," Erik praised, waving the offering away before dismounting and walking forward. Nadya watched curiously as the man walked, and soon found herself following him through the trees.

"What performance?"

"Reading my palm. I was impressed."

Nadya knit her brow as she placed the small parcel back into the apron tied around her waist. "That wasn't a performance. My grandmother taught me how when I was a little girl. It isn't magic or anything, it's simply reading people's stories through the part of them that most often comes in contact with the world."

"I'm quite familiar with palmistry, Nadya," Erik promised, dismissing her as though she were a child. "I've seen many a man swindled out of his coin for a far less believable show than yours, I'm trying to pay you a compliment."

"I don't find that to be a compliment at all," she stated simply, folding her arms under her breasts as they walked. "What troupe did you travel with before, Erik?"

Erik froze in his steps and rounded on her. Nadya's heart skipped a beat in fright as his voice dropped into an ominous growl. Before his eyes had seemed like stars against the dark night of his masked face. Now they seemed like the eyes of a cougar. "Who told you?"

"I-"

"Who told you?" He barked again, stepping forward and towering over her so ominously she stepped quickly back.

"Nobody! It wasn't that much of a leap, Erik. You speak our language perfectly; that alone was a strong hint," she defended, and after a long moment the man stepped back and set his jaw.

"Yes, I suppose it would be."

"You speak our language but your skin is pale and you refer to us as Gypsies as though you were as ignorant about our culture as the rest of Europe. What have we done that offended you so?" Nadya demanded as Erik's attention became fixated on the ground between them. She grew wary as his fist clenched tightly against his side and the silence that followed seemed to drag on for hours.

It wasn't until he spoke that Nadya realized his anger was in no way directed towards her. "When I was a boy, I was a part of a traveling faire out west. A large group of Gypsies had taken on a Frenchman with a taste for the bizarre. He was never accepted as one of them, they helped him fetch acts for his show, he made sure they always had an audience."

If Erik could pull his gaze away from the ground, he would have seen the look of disgust growing upon the girl's face. "You traveled with a freak show? Why?"

Erik snorted ironically and gestured to the black leather upon his face with a flourish, finally looking up. "A treat for the eyes such as myself shouldn't be kept from the public."

Nadya frowned deeply. "I wasn't going to say anything…"

"You're not the only observant one among us, Nadya. I've known you for less than a day and I can already guess at how much your curiosity has been eating up at you. Go ahead and ask; you have my permission."

Swaying gently for a moment, Nadya carefully considered how best to word her question without raising the man's short temper. "…Why do you wear a mask?"

Clicking his tongue in disappointment, Erik shook his head. "Come now, you and I both know there's more to it than that. Ask me what it is you really want to know."

Nadya bit her lip, not sure which would anger him more – telling the truth or refusing to speak all together.

"What… What happened to your face?"

"Ah, now there is a question indeed!" Erik praised darkly. Even the horse behind him was growing agitated as the tall man's mood darkened and became more dramatic. "I'm afraid only God knows the answer to that, My Dear. All I can say with any certainty is that I was born with Death's face. 'The Living Corpse' they called me. It does have quite a ring to it, doesn't it? If I had a franc for every woman who fainted at the sight of me I would be so wealthy Solomon himself would blush! Shame on their husband and fathers for bringing them. Death is not a matter for the weaker sex to face so directly. But man is so morbidly curious, and where man goes so must woman."

"Why did you stay?" Nadya asked quietly, trying her best not to meet his eyes and failing miserably. What was this strange power he had over her? First she had felt compelled to follow him like some loyal hound, now like the day before his gaze was unbreakable.

"Why did I stay?" Erik laughed coldly. "Why did I stay, she asks! I lived in a cage like all the other displays," he explained curtly, and Nadya's face grew pale.

"A… A cage?"

"Oh yes, a cage fit to contain Death himself," Erik sneered, finally dropping Nadya's gaze. He began to walk again, leaving Nadya behind in horrified silence as he moved deeper into the forest.

After walking nearly a mile from where he had left the dark haired girl, Erik heard footsteps in the woods behind him. He continued walking and spoke without looking back. "I thought I had finally gotten rid of you."

"I'm sorry, Erik," came Nadya's voice. "I know it doesn't change what happened, and it shouldn't. I… I've actually heard of you before," she admitted carefully, and the man froze in his tracks. When he remained silent, she continued. "When I was a little girl we came across a dying man from another tribe. He told us about a spirit he called the Living Corpse, who rode on the back of a dragon and brought death to those who angered him. He said the spirit had raped one of their women murdered a man in their camp before vanishing without a trace. Soon after he left a plague fell on the camp. They all knew it was a curse brought on them by the Living Corpse. As far as I know, they all died."

Erik's head hung and his breathing changed as he took in this news. Nadya ventured forward and pulled out the small parcel of food again, standing beside him and pressing into his hand. "Whatever it is you're running from or towards, I wish you luck. We're keeping camp where it is until the moon is full; if you need a safe place to stay or grow tired of traveling alone before then, come and find us."

When Erik did not so much as look at her, Nadya nodded and began to move back the way she came. She hadn't gotten far when Erik called after her. "I didn't rape her."

Nadya looked over her shoulder to him and smiled warmly. "I know."

"What makes you so sure I'm not lying?"

"A rapist wouldn't have saved a woman from his own kind," she answered simply.

Erik couldn't be certain what kept him in the area for so many days. Normally over the course of a week he would have covered several hundred miles if not more if he kept a decent pace and rode as many hours as his horse could carry him. This week he had traveled no more than thirty or forty miles, always going back the way he had come.

There was no doubting the forest was plentiful. Rabbits, roots, and mushrooms made for a filling meal, the nearby river ran clean and cool with the occasional fish large enough to eat. Erik told himself it was these things that kept him in the area. It was rare to find such a resourceful place, after all.

However, the regions many resources could not explain why Erik's mind kept wandering to the dark eyed Gypsy who had all but crashed into his life. Nadya was simple. Not to say that she was slow – quite the contrary. She was curious to a fault, with powers of observation nearly as keen as his own. She was able to see the world and accept it for what it was, and yet her spirit was as light as her graceful gait. Her face was open and honest, her eyes sharp and more lively than the wilting flowers European women were so often raised to be. Nadya was no lion, but she was no lamb either.

Though her eyes were sharp, her curves were soft and supple. The more Erik tried not to consider it, the more the sway of her hips filled his mind. Erik had always found Gypsy women intriguing, covering their legs with long, bright skirts that sat high upon the waist but showing no shame in displaying their often ample breasts under low, loosely fit blouses. In his years spent living with Gypsies, none of them had intrigued him quite as much as Nadya had in the course of a few hours.

As the week drew to an end, the great black horse threw a shoe and avoiding the nearby city became impossible. The blacksmith was not far into the city, but Erik had run out of money weeks earlier. The horse was young and strong, worth keeping a while longer; if he wasn't going to steal a new horse, Erik would have to steal the funds to pay for the repair.

The blacksmith warily agreed to be paid after his services were complete, and Erik left the horse in the man's care to venture further into the city. The sun was bright but afforded him enough shadows to avoid many of the questioning looks and suspicious whispers as he made his way down the streets, searching for any sort of crowd to wander through and relieve of their valuables.

In the town square, Erik found exactly the sort of crowd he was looking for. A handful of Nadya's tribe had set up a modest faire in the open space and the fairer Germanic townsfolk were wandering through, intrigued. One of the Gypsies gazed into a cup Erik suspected held tea leaves and foretold a man's future while her husband stood nearby selling talismans for luck, protection, and love. One man played the flute while a young girl sang charming legends of her people in her native tongue, entrancing the small crowd that had surrounded her. One of the more popular events was a dancer, writhing in the afternoon sun to the beat of a tambourine held high above her head. Men gathered around her as their fiancés and wives marveled at the jewelry one woman was selling even as she wove a needle through brightly colored glass beads.

And there seated on the ground between the young singer and jeweler was Nadya, carefully studying the palm of a young woman who sat before her, entranced. Nadya said something to the woman, who turned wide-eyed to her friend. "You told her, didn't you!"

"Don't be silly! I've been with you all day!" The other lady exclaimed, and Nadya laughed lightly.

"Fraulein, I can promise your friend isn't conspiring against you," she promised in clumsy German. The women grinned at one another in delight and dropped a coin into the wooden bowl Nadya had laid out beside her before moving off to chatter excitedly.

Erik approached the dark eyed young woman as she arranged her long skirt. "What did you tell her?"

Nadya smiled brightly when she recognized his voice and looked up to him. Erik noted it as one of the rare moments in his life anyone had seemed genuinely pleased to see him. "Erik! I thought I saw you wandering through the crowd. I simply told her she was newly engaged. She was wearing a ring worth more than my horse and smiling so broadly I could count all of her teeth. It was an easy leap," she explained. "I thought you would have been halfway to Spain by now."

"I'm traveling east, actually."

"Halfway to the Orient, then," Nadya corrected herself, patting the cobblestone beside her. "Sit and join me for a while; I'm going to break my neck looking up at you."

"I'm afraid I would frighten away your customers," he remarked, but Nadya dismissed his concern with a wave and Erik obliged.

"How long are you in town?"

"Not long. My horse is being shoed. I'll be leaving again once I can pay the blacksmith."

Nadya frowned some. "You don't have the money?" she asked in concern, and Erik shook his head, unsure of why he didn't simply lie. He doubted if her tribe was the sort to turn a blind eye to thieves and pickpockets. She studied him carefully for a moment, attempting to read his face through the mask. Finally she pulled a small leather satchel out of a fold in her skirt and held it out to him. When he hesitated, she took his hand and pressed the bag into his palm.

"I can't take money from your family, Nadya," Erik protested, although something did not seem right; if those were the funds she had earned for her family at the faire, what were the coins in the wooden bowl?

"But you can take it from these people?" she asked, gesturing to the waning crowd. "Besides, you're not taking it, I'm giving it to you. Take it and pay the blacksmith, it should be enough."

"How do you have money?" Erik demanded suddenly. "Aren't all your earnings here –"

Nadya suddenly gave him a look so hard he quickly stopped talking and looked around them to be sure none of her family had heard him before lowering his voice. "Why do you have money?"

Diverting her eyes, Nadya gave Erik an answer without saying a word; she was running away.

Author's Note: Is the document manager being screwy for anyone else today too? Very weird.