The next morning the sun was shining brilliantly down from a cloudless sky. By midday it was too warm to train and Cassandra decided she needed a swim before the heat would melt her away.

Stripped down to her underwear she waded into the waves, sighing blissfully as chilly water touched her skin.

"Don't you dare running around naked," she told Jah'ren, who was standing on the beach, putting his weapons down.

"Why not," he complained. "Kass take clothes of."

"I am still decent, because I wear underwear."

He was too warm to argue and jumped in the water thinking the ragged trousers could need a wash anyway.

When they had both cooled down enough to have energy again Cassandra threw a handful of green seaweed over her hair and said:

"Me Jah'ren. Me big troll. Run around naked, no personal boundaries. Okey!"

He leapt at her with a roar, but she had been expecting it and was already on the beach when he reached her. Squealing of laughter she escaped a long arm grabbing for her by running under it, but he could turn in the blink of an eye and caught her by the shoulder.

"Peace!" she squeaked as they struggled, bare feet slipping on the sand.

Cassandra got herself free and kicked out against the troll. A hand flew up, grabbed her ankle and a second she was locked in that strange position, before Jah'ren, grinning madly, turned her around by the foot and wrestled her to the ground.

One hand around each of her wrists he pinned down her hands, keeping the rest of her body down with his weight.

"You are crushing me!" she said breathless. "Heavy troll!"

The only answer was a rumble of laughter beside her ear. Then Jah'ren opened his mouth to say something, but before he could a bullet hit the sand right beside them, the sound of the shot making them both jump in fright.

The troll dived away from her, rolling over the sand to where his weapons lay. As Cassandra got to her feet, looking for the attackers, he had the bow ready to shoot.

Three humans, all armed, were walking down the path from the plain above.

"Run, miss! Hurry!" one of them yelled.

Cassandra ran, but not in the direction they had expected. Before they had time to fire again she had positioned herself in front of her friend.

"Don't shoot!" she shouted as the men came closer. "We are not enemies!"

She quickly realized how the situation must have appeared in their eyes; a troll chasing a screaming girl.

The men came to a halt some meters away, still holding their guns fixed at Jah'ren. Cassandra could tell from their clothes they were farmers, probably out hunting for food or looking for an animal away from the herd.

"What goes on here then?" the oldest of the three asked.

Cassandra automatically though of him as the father, the other two young enough to be his sons and sharing the same farmer's face. The youngest was still just barely growing some strands of facial hair and Cassandra thought his brother could be around thirty, imagining them being in each end of a big flock of children as was usual for the farmers around here.

"We were training," Cassandra explained, knowing how incredibly stupid it had to sound in their ears.

"That's a troll, that is," the youngest son said, pointing with the muzzle of a rusty gun.

"Yes," she agreed, there being no point in denying the obvious. "He's my teacher."

The men exchanged a surprised glance, but did not comment on this.

"You are not from these parts then," the father asked again, taking the lead.

"I come from up at Two Silver, sir," Cassandra replied, a finger pointing north.

"Two Silver, you say?" the oldest son said slyly, spitting on the ground. "I know about Two Silver. Burned down to ashes ten years ago it did, not a single soul left alive."

Cassandra stared at them, trying to figure out if she should stick to the truth or make up something easier to believe.

"No," the father told his son thoughtfully. "My brother went up there to help burry the dead, and I remember him telling of a young girl, the only survivor of the entire village. You have the right accent for a Two Silver girl."

Cassandra just nodded, trying to think about what to do next.

"Even if she would be that girl, she wouldn't be with one of them," the oldest son commented. "They killed her village."

"Not Jah'ren," Cassandra said. "He wasn't there."

"It's still a troll," the youngest one squeaked, obviously being in that difficult age when a boy's voice goes everywhere at once. "It's still one of them."

"She was the miller's girl," the father said, watching her intensely.

Cassandra spotted the trap.

"My father was a smith," she said. "William the Smith. They called him Smithy. He made the best kettles for miles around."

The older man nodded slowly.

"It's her alright. I remember that William and his kettles. Old mother still swears by one of Smithy's finest creations. But what are you doing travelling with one of the wild people, girl? Have you no sense?"

"Have you forgotten?" his son shot in. "Can't you remember what they did? Look at its eyes, the evil in them."

"Don't call him that!" Cassandra snapped. "I remember well enough. Better than any of you. I was there, I saw what they did. And I hated them, until the day my life was saved. Until one of their kind protected me. Until there was someone willing to give his life for mine."

She put a hand on the bow beside her and urged him silently to lower it. As he did he snuck the left hand around her waist, holding her possessively.

"Still," the father said. "Still, it is not right. We had word from down at Buth just the other week, telling of a traitor and a troll going into the wild lands, after killing two knights."

"Kill?" Jah'ren growled. "Shoot horse, kill no human!"

The men stared at him, clearly shocked to hear their own language from his mouth.

"It's true," Cassandra said calmly. "We shot two horses, but killed no knights. They branded me traitor for protecting him. But he killed one of his own kind to save my life. You can't tell me that is fair."

She knew there was the chance that Jah'ren had killed someone while she was sleeping, but she trusted him enough to believe he had not.

"But it's not right," the oldest son protested again. "Human and troll. The wild people are a fierce and foul race. They are on the other side of good. It's not right."

"We are hunters," Cassandra said. "We don't care about sides. And besides; not many humans choose to be hunters. I need someone to teach me."

She could see the doubt in their eyes, she could read their faces. It was still not right. She had thought the same every day for weeks, there was something not right.

"I have learned," she said uncertain. "I have seen things and heard things you would not believe. And I have found there is no black and white; there are just people, of different colour and different race, and there is evil in them all, and there is good in them. And you choose yourself what to be."

After a long and uncomfortable silence the father nodded again.

"I think you might be crazy, but I also think you are right." He sighed. "We will not report you to the knights I think."

"Father!" the sons began, but they were shushed by a raised hand.

"But I will give you an offer," he continued. "You come back with us now, to the village. There is always a use for a hunter or fighter… or wife. Nobody will be any wiser about where you come from and where you have been. Nobody will report you. That way you can live among your own kind again. We'll let the troll go back to wherever he came from and things will be right again."

Cassandra looked at their plain, dirty clothes, the smell of farm life and humans starting to haunt her memories, making her long for home.

"It's a tempting offer," she said, noticing a slight shiver in the arm holding her. "But I cannot accept it. This is my tribe."

She placed her hand on Jah'ren's, her eyes daring the men to protest.

"My heart is saddened to know that," the father told her. "I will keep my word not to report you if you leave this place. Head northwards along the shore and away from the villages and you will be safer than on the roads."

She thanked him and his sons, both of them still looking angry, and watched them turn to leave.

"Also," the man added. "Stay on guard. There has been said to be a band of troll setting up camp close to the shore. They might not be of the good kind."

He gave them both a nod, and headed up the path again.

"Kass want to go with human," Jah'ren said, pulling his hand to him. "Go live with human, man right."

"Idiot," she said and stomped her heel on his foot before going back to the cave to pack.

He caught up with her quickly and grabbed her by the shoulder.

"Kass. Jah'ren mean it. You want to go. I know."

When she turned around he was surprised to find her eyes full of tears.

"Pack your things, stupid," she said, her voice shaking. "I lost my first family. I am not giving up on this one."

They left at once, doing as the man said and headed north. South would only lead them back into the wild lands, and east over the plains would eventually end in tall mountains with dwarfen cities. No troll with their sense intact (a point which actually could be discussed in Jah'ren's case) would go near the dwarfs. West lay the ocean, too wide and dangerous to try to cross in anything but a large ship. So north it was.

They did not hurry, but strolled lazily over the sand dunes.

"Two Silver?" Jah'ren finally asked. "That where we going?"

"We will pass it, if we keep to the beach all the way. But I don't mind."

The troll became silent a while, Cassandra could sense something was bothering him.

"What is it?" she asked after almost thirty minutes of silence, which was unusual for Jah'ren. "I can feel something's on your mind. Tell me."

"Not angry?"

"What should I be angry for?"

"No, not get angry. Jah'ren tell Kass, not get angry?"

"I can't promise if you won't tell me…"

Again silence. She was worried, this was not like him at all.

"Jah'ren been here before."

Cold fear went down her spine.

"When?" she asked through clenched teeth.

"Long time. Jah'ren not know."

"Long time? Ten years maybe?" she could not stop herself from mumbling.

"Maybe. Jah'ren young then."

"And maybe you were with a raiding party and burned a village?"

"No. Never did that."

She knew he was insulted, but was too upset to apologize.

"But Jah'ren kill man. Paladin. Very strong, very big…"

"With a lion on his shield and a sword with a blue blade?" Cassandra asked, her voice distant.

"Maybe."

"That's a yes?"

"Yes, maybe."

Ten years ago there had been a man like that. Cassandra closed her eyes a moment and tried to think that it would not have mattered anyway, but an angry little voice told her it could have mattered.

"He was the paladin assigned to protect our village. He was found dead after the fire, a long way from the village. I saw the body. I still remember how they wondered how many he had fought, all those cuts. Had he lived he might have sent a warning, he might have fought the raiders, but he did not, and the village burned."

"Jah'ren sorry," he whispered, pain in his voice.

"It doesn't really matter," Cassandra said. "If and buts won't make them alive again. It was a very long time ago, and you were young and, knowing you, I bet you probably struck your swords through anything that moved."

"Maybe…"

She looked up at him, sighing.

"If you're going to tell me anything else about you hanging around our village when it was burned you better do it now while I am in my nice mood."

"I ate a poison plant and was very bad. And I killed one Baa, and ate that one too, but it was good. No more."

"You ate a sheep and a poisonous plant? Well, I forgive you. Just don't do it again, at least the poison part."

After he had gotten what bothered him off his mind he was once again his usual, cheery self. He nagged her into telling the story of the patch of land where two rivers met that was sold for two pieces of silver, and thus earning the village a name that would last for generations. That is; up to the day a raiding party burned it to the ground.