They decided to escape out of the window, in the hopes that they'd avoid the innkeeper

AUTHOR'S NOTE - You might notice that just after Jay attempts to light a fire, Bryan says "...What on earth..." I know that people in Deltora have never heard of Earth. However, 'what on earth' is too good an expression to give up merely because of a slight handicap like that, so I've chosen to think of the 'earth' as the type of earth everyone has. Dirt. Mud. Et cetera. When he says 'What on earth', he's asking 'What in the world', in essence. Get what I mean? Good.

AUTHOR'S NOTE - 'Jervyl' is pronounced with a very soft J. More like Zhurvil and less like Gervyl.

They decided to escape out of the window, in the hopes that they'd avoid the innkeeper.

Bryan carried the dog, which he now realized was a lot lighter than he thought. It must be skin and bone.

Just as they were leaving the window and jumping down from the tiled half-roof, however, a tile slipped out from under Jay's boot, and clattered along the roof before landing with a thud on the tuft of grass growing around the foundation.

Both he and Jay froze solid. Even the dog noticed the tension and stopped his bored panting.

When nothing seemed to occur, however, after a brief hiatus where they weren't sure the coast was clear, they started forwards again, cautiously.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached the ground.

They had agreed previously to drop right down to the ground after landing, in case someone was looking out a window.

Luckily for them, however, there were no windows on that section of wall, which came out from the rest in a bump. Perhaps it was a pantry of sorts.

Again, Lady Luck smiled on our trio - the woods were thick on this side of the inn. Darting into them, they ran for a few minutes, before they sat and rested for a few moments, partially to regain their breath, and partly to listen for footsteps.

They started running again. The dog would disappear for minutes at a time, then return, panting heavily, but quite happy.

It was at this time that Bryan's wound on his stomach broke open and started bleeding again.

He swore, then tapped Jay's shoulder, asking him to stop, so he could find something to pad it with.

Jay stopped running, then turned around and gasped when he saw the blood soaking Bryan's shirt.

"Good lord, man, how did you get that?"

"Same way I got this dog and this sword. There was a man on the road who seemed to have something against me."

"Sword?"

"Yeah...hold on..." Bryan drew the beautiful sword.

"Take a look at that...was is that?"

The embossed snake and the word TYSOL reflected the murky forest light in abstract ways.

Jay's eyes, which had been wide with shock a few seconds before, narrowed to slits when he saw the two of them.

"I'd keep this sword hidden."

"...Why?"

"Because I said so. Just don't draw it unless you really have to. It's hard to explain."

"Tell me."

Shaking his head, Jay smiled roguishly. "Not till you're older."

Scowling, ears blushed red with anger, Bryan sheathed the sword, which was balanced so perfectly that it felt almost weightless.

"Now, we're resting for a while. I'll get some stuff to put on that cut of yours. You stay here and don't move, or twist, or anything like that. I might be a while, so sleep if you can. I think we've come far enough, fast enough, to deter any trackers."

Without waiting for Bryan's answer, he turned heel and disappeared into the dense forest.

Steaming, Bryan saw the logic in what Jay had said, and settled down against a tree.

He was awoken to the crunch of Jay's heavy studded boots on last fall's leaves. He was carrying an armful of leaves, which he dropped practically onto Bryan's face.

Sputtering, and spitting the last of some small leaves out of his mouth, he straightened himself. He had slumped against the tree in sleep, and his back ached.

"I really don't know why you hate me so much. I'd ask you, but knowing you, I wouldn't even get an answer."

The only response he got was another of Jay's lopsided smiles. He was sitting on the forest floor, attempting to light a fire.

"Now you're not even talking any more. What on earth are you doing?"

"I'm lighting a fire."

"I could see that. Why?"

Sighing in exasperation, Jay struck a piece of flint across a tiny piece of iron. "Some of the leaves you'll need have to be cooked."

"Cooked leaves? Like soup?"

"You can call it whatever you like."

It was at that point that the dog came back, carrying a stick that he was obviously very proud of. The conversation, such as it was, dropped off soon after that.

The dog accidentally put out the tiny fire twice, much to the frustration (and curses) of Jay. Just to spite Jay, Bryan laughed at both of these times, which earned him a glare.

Both humans would have come to blows by the time the leaves were cooked, were it not for the antics of the dog.

Jay had obviously had enough, so he took his water flask and filled it with the resulting mixture, then handed it to Bryan with the instructions, "Smear it."

Rolling his eyes, Bryan took a finger-full of the stuff, which was pale green and grainy, and applied it to his slice.

Jay had started to pack up, because they really weren't far enough away yet, and because there were still a few hours left in the day.

"C'mon, you're not infirm just because you have a wound that would have ripped out your gut were it a little deeper. Help me."

"No way. If you make me help, I'll go ahead and die on you. That'll teach you and who ever you have to take care of me for."

"I'm serious, man. Help me pack up or I'll tie you to the tree."

"Try it. I'll die."

"You over-exaggerate. You'll be fine. C'mon."

"I mean, I'll die purposefully if you tie me to this tree."

"Fine, and then you'll be dead and I'll have a nuisance out of my life."

"You'll still have the dog."

"I like the dog."

"It's my dog."

"Not if you're dead, it isn't."

The banter continued on like this for quite some time, until a compromise was made - Bryan would help pack up in return for the possession of the dog, who, as far as the dog was concerned, belonged to himself.

After setting up camp for the second time that day (Jay made Bryan promise to help set up and pack up again, on pain of nothing), they made supper out of mushrooms and leaves, then put out the fire just as the sun was setting.

The dog had left, and come back a little later, stinking like something that had been dead for weeks. He was then banished to the outskirts of the camp, where he lay, all night, enjoying his own stink.

After packing up in the morning (luckily for the reluctant Bryan, there wasn't that much to pack), they decided that the dog needed a name.

Had the dog known what they were saying, he'd say that he already had a name, and that it was...Musk? Dust? Something like that.

Jay suggested Stinker, due to his stench the previous night. It was quickly dismissed by Bryan, and unknowingly by the dog, who sneezed at that precise moment.

Jay started calling the dog Stinker, but was punched idly by Bryan, who was still thinking.

He remembered the name of one of the jesters that he had seen, once or twice, while visiting his sister in the palace (and swiping a few jewels in the process). It wasn't like he thought the dog was jester-like. It was just...the name seemed to suit him.

"How about...Jervyl?"

"Sounds like 'gerbil'."

"Suits him, though."

"Almost as much as Stinker does." Indeed, the dog still smelled terribly.

He got another half-hearted punch. "I like Jervyl."

"Go ahead an like it. It's your dog, after all." This was a reference to the previous night.

And so the dog was named Jervyl. Bryan was pretty sure, however, that he heard Jay calling the dog Stinker when he thought Bryan couldn't hear.

Indeed, Jervyl stank. Luckily for Jay and Bryan, however, it was licked off after a few days, as even the dog himself got sick of the stink.

Though Bryan had been pestering him, Jay kept quiet about anything that Bryan did not know already. This included where they were going, when they were going to get there, what they were going to do once they got there, what Jay did for a living and where he lived, why Bryan was supposed to hide the sword, what TYSOL and the snake meant, etc.

Because that was all Bryan wanted to know, or to talk about, and because that was exactly what Jay did not want to talk about, the long trek through the woods to who knows where to do who knows what was almost devoid of human voices.

Most of Bryan's questions were answered a few days later, when the little group emerged from the woods and crossed a rocky grassland.

They made camp a couple of hours later, in a copse of trees.

Bryan set to work pulling ticks off the dog - who didn't seem to mind them, though they clung to his body like swollen raisins - because it had become his job, gross as it was.

Jay started a fire, because it had become his job, frustrating as it was.

All this was done in relative silence - not because they were angry at each other, but because everything that could be said had been said already. (Although Bryan was very annoyed at Jay's withholding of seemingly important information.)

The reason that Bryan discovered the answers to his questions, however, was an unexpected visitor, just as dusk was setting in.

The visitor was an old, old man, probably even older than he looked, and he looked very old indeed. A white beard hung past his stomach, and it had been brushed, then braided with beads and multicolored string. He was dressed in shades of tan-grey.