The cart rumbles into town, and Courtney can't help but pulling her silky scarf around her neck and over her nose, blocking the lower half of her face. "Why did we even come here? It's too dangerous! Let's go back," she begs Duncan, who was already hopping out of the cart.
"No way, darling. Leaving now would just arouse suspicion. Just act normal," he replies, handing her a huge empty jar. She waddles along, carrying the bulky jar and trying to keep up with the parade of women walking toward the well. They were already far ahead of her, and she was persistently falling behind.
"Just a hint, but I think you're supposed to carry the jug on your head," Duncan teases. She hefts the heavy jug on her head, and holds it there to keep its balance. She walks a bit faster and eventually catches up with the rest of the gypsies. Courtney can't help but notice the obnoxious looks the other peasants had on their face when looking at the line of gypsies. A few people even spit on the ground at the gypsies' feet. I guess gypsies really are social outcasts, she thinks. She looks over her shoulder, but Duncan had already disappeared.
At the well, a gypsy woman tosses down a wooden bucket until a splash is heard at the bottom. She pulls up the bucket and pours it into the jug, until it was filled to the brim. Then she lifts the jug onto her head and walks off. One by one, the women filled their jugs until only Courtney was left.
She tosses the bucket to the bottom of the well and hears the distant splash sound. Courtney leans over and tugs the rope. After dozens of hefting tugs, the bucket if lifted from the well. She tilts the bucket and manages to pour a little over half the water into the jug. The other half of the water sloshes out into the dirt, turning the ground around her into sticky mud. After another try, more water is spilled, but the jug is filled the rest of the way.
Courtney lifts the jug onto her head, arms shaking with the effort of lifting the heavy weight, and turns around to walk back to the cart. But she almost runs into a small group of three men who were watching her with a mix of lust and hatred in their eyes. "Oh… I'm sorry," she excuses herself and slips past them without spilling any more water.
"You better be sorry, gypsy," a man in a tan vest hisses at her. He'd said 'gypsy' like another would say 'leprosy.'
Something about his tone made Courtney's insides boil. "I know. I said I was sorry," she clarifies.
"I heard you," he slurs. Then Courtney notices the small bar across the street from the well. The man was drunk, and so were his two friends. Over the drunkard's shoulder, Courtney could see no gypsies left to defend her. They were already back at the cart, waiting for her delayed return. "But I know how you can pay me for our accidental run-in."
His big, burly hand grabs her roughly by the wrist, and tugs her towards her. She looses her balance and the clay jug falls off her head, shattering on the ground and spilling water everywhere. "Hey!" Courtney exclaims.
"You clumsy little bitch. I'll show you…," he growls right in her face. His breathe blew across her face, smelling like liquor, and a rugged five-o'clock shadow grew on his face. Her breath catches in her throat, suddenly afraid of what would happen.
One of the men grabs her butt, and she pulls away from him -- right into the other man. He rips the scarf from her face and tosses it on the ground, right into the mud. The man who still had her by her wrist held his other hand out, reaching for her skirt. "No! Stop!" Courtney shouts, but it comes out more like a squeak. She clears her throat and begins screaming, "Help! Somebody help me!"
But nobody was even around the well anymore. It seemed like at the first sign of danger or drama, everyone had fled. And no gypsies were left to stick up for her. Fine, she thinks, If that's how it's going to be… I'll just have to take matters into my own hands.
Courtney lashes out, clawing at the man's hand until he finally released her wrist. Deep red gashes ran jagged down his arm, and he shouts in pain. The other two men jump for Courtney, one of them holding each of her arms. She kicks at them, nailing one in the groin and the other in the stomach. They crouch on the ground, moaning and holding themselves together. The man with the five-o'clock shadow glares at Courtney, but suddenly, he's tackled to the ground.
Courtney gasps when she sees Duncan on top of the man, punching him repeatedly in the stomach. "Duncan, stop! Let's just go back!" she tries telling him, but Duncan just brushes her off and keeps whaling on the drunk man. She looks around and sees that the drunkard's two acquaintances had already run off.
The man flips Duncan off of him, and they both stand up. The man grabs Duncan's vest in his fist and lands a blow across Duncan's jaw. "Stop! Get off him!" Courtney shouts. She slams her fists into the man's back, but he just swings his arm out, knocking her right in the stomach and onto the ground.
She curls up in a ball, struggling to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her. Soon Duncan's hands are on her, picking her up into his arms and carrying her back to the cart, bridal-style. He climbs into the cart and just tells the driver, "Get going."
Soon the cart begins rambling back towards the gypsy camp, and Duncan cups Courtney's chin in his hand, lifting her gaze to his eyes. "Are you okay?" he asks her, "Did they hurt you?"
Immediately, she begins crying. Sobbing, actually. She just cries and cries and cries. Cries because she misses the comfort of her room and her pet cat, cries because she was sick of pretending to be a belly-dancer, cries because of what those men could have done, and cries just so she can cry. And the whole time, Duncan just rocks her in his arms, strokes her hair, and quietly explains the whole ordeal to the gypsies.
When Courtney wakes up, she was back in her bed. She stands up and her vision is immediately clouded with lightheadedness. Once the spots fade away, she walks to the door in a haze of post-crying headache. She opens the door and the first thing she hears is yelling. But nobody was in the courtyard, so she sneaks along the side of the wagon until she hears Duncan's voice.
"They just left her at the well! In the center of town!"
"Nothing happened to her, Duncan," says a mysterious voice reassuringly.
"I told you those guys were drunk! What do you think would have happened to her if I hadn't been there?"
"But you were there. And she's fine right now. Isn't that all what matters?"
"No!" Duncan snaps. There's a silence, and Courtney hears somebody pacing back and forth… most likely Duncan. "Besides, they could have found out she was the princess."
"What, three drunk guys? They couldn't make the connection."
"Not them! Somebody else. Everybody in the kingdom knows what the royal family looks like. If she was with the gypsies, instead of all alone, there would have been less of a chance of her being recognized."
"She wasn't recognized. That's all that matters. But if it satisfies you, I'll talk to the others and tell them what you think," the voice replies.
"That is not. All. That. Matters," Duncan hisses. "What if she was hurt?"
Silence.
Then, "You know what, Duncan? I'm starting to think you care about this girl way too much than you should."
"I don't want to hear it," Duncan snaps. "We'll talk about this later."
There's the sound of Duncan's footsteps as he walks away. Courtney's curiosity gets the better of her and she decides to see who the man was that Duncan was talking to. She peeks out from behind the wagon to see a middle-aged man wrapped in layers of colorful gypsy clothes and baggy white pants tied onto his wiry body with coarse rope.
But then somebody crashes into her, blocking her view of the man and making her stumble backwards. "Princess!" Duncan exclaims, grabbing her arms to keep her from falling. "What are you doing here?"
"I just woke up and wanted to go for a walk. I have a terrible headache and thought fresh air should clear it up," she lies off the top of her head.
"Oh. Good. Well, not good that you have a headache, but good that you were going for a walk. I need to show you something," Duncan replies, taking her hand and leading her into the forest. They follow a bumpy, weed-infested dirt trail to wherever Duncan was leading her.
But all Courtney could focus on was the mysterious man's words: 'You know what, Duncan? I'm starting to think you care about this girl way too much than you should.'
(Author's Note: Happy New Year's, everybody! I resolve to try to update chapters faster. Lol. Seriously though, I'm so excited about the next chapter. It's going to be so cute! So… yeah. Happy New Year's! The song is Kiss My Sass by Cobra Starship.)
They say that kid he's got… I'm bringing sassy back, You only see what I let you see, They say that kid he's got soul. Oh. Oh oh oh oh. Oh oh oh oh oh. Oh oh oh oh oh o-oh. And I ain't gonna lie, Only see what I let you see They say that kid he's got soul. Oh. Oh oh oh oh. Oh oh oh oh oh. Oh oh oh oh oh o-oh. (Yeah, yeah. Travis. Here we go!) They say that kid he's got more soul than Flight Club. You can try but you just can't stop, Honestly… They say that kid he's got soul. I'm everywhere that you go.
And everything that you thought you can't forget
'cause y'all know nothing but my name.
And I don't wanna hear
about people I don't know.
Not you, not him, not her, no.
Nothing less, nothing more.
What you say is nothing new to me.
Honestly.
I'm everywhere that you go.
And I've been there, seen that, and I ain't taking you home.
No-o-o.
Oh. Oh oh oh oh. Oh oh oh oh oh. O-oh. O-oh. O-oh. O-oh.
I can be a nasty guy.
So you should probably sit
'cause yeah my words come kinda quick
and if you don't get it let me repeat it, just forget what you thought.
over and over again.
What you say is nothing new to me.
Honestly.
I'm everywhere that you go.
And I've been there, seen that, and I ain't taking you home.
No-o-o.
But what do they know?
I'm everywhere that you go (and I still got soul.)
And I've been there, seen that, and I ain't taking you home.
No-o-o.
Oh. Oh oh oh oh. Oh oh oh oh oh. O-oh. O-oh. O-oh. O-oh.
Can't you tell by the way I use my wall?
Travis stay way cooler than the hand that lose that.
Yeah bite too many times worse than my bark.
Yeah, took a little time but I'm finally here.
Ten years deep just to make things clear.
Now I'm doubled up throwing double B's in the air.
Go get it off your chest like a tight brassiere.
Don't regret it.
Just let it.
Give credit.
Don't sweat it.
Fangs up.
Cobra style.
I'm everywhere that you go.
And I've been there, seen that, and I ain't taking you home.
No-o-o.
But what do they know?
I'm everywhere that you go (and I still got soul.)
And I've been there, seen that, and I ain't taking you home.
No-o-o.
And I've been there, seen that and I ain't taking you home
