As I've said before – there has now been a shift in the plot. There are events that have occurred between the end of the last chapter and the beginning of this one that I've purposely left out. It will cause a huge blank in the storyline, but rest assured, this blank will get filled and explained in later chapters. I apologise in advance for the confusion that's bound to happen somewhere (sooner or later).

Disclaimer – Song of the Lioness belongs respectively to Tamora Pierce

CHAPTER TEN

The girl clutched the rough tartan blanket around her shoulders tighter; afraid that it would slip from its embrace around her shoulders and expose her. It was itchy to her skin, and not quite comfortable, but she didn't dare speak in case he turned his attention towards her. Swallowing the sigh she felt building in her throat, she closed her eyes and leaned her head very gently against the window. She could feel the old woman staring at her, from where the woman sat beside her in the small, worn and rickety carriage.

There was a pity in the woman's eyes, but also something that looked close to unhappiness and concern. He had told her earlier that the woman's name was Aula. Aula looked so warm and pleasant, and all the girl wanted was for Aula to assure her that everything was going to be alright. But she knew that would never happen, since she didn't even know Aula. What right did she have to ask Aula—clearly a woman of high standing—to comfort a strange, pitiful girl with no current memory of what had happened to her?

She could hear the young voice of the little girl, Danae, in front. Danae was speaking in hushed tones to him, clearly unafraid. Once in a while, Danae would poke her head around to look at her with wide eyes, and the girl could sense that Danae was barely resisting the urge to say something to her. She knew she looked terrible; it didn't take a genius to figure out that her appearance would inspire such interest in a youngster. Danae was every bit the curious child, and reminded her of a kitten; so innocent, yet altogether inquisitive.

He didn't even move a muscle in her direction. She supposed that she was to be sad at this fact; instead she found that it comforted her. In truth, she wouldn't be able to handle looking at the face of her saviour again, a saviour with eyes much too intense for her to remain composed. Her confusion would definitely bring tears; and for some unknown reason, she did not want him to see such weakness.

How could a complete stranger bring her to a state of rioted mess?

She prevented any thoughts that pertained to addressing such a question in her mind. She had sat for the past few hours, alone with her thoughts ever since she first awoke and was put in the carriage. He hadn't spoken a word to her again after he had told her that they needed to move for their safety. Too frightened to even think about anything, let alone her safety with these people, she just nodded.

Oddly enough, she didn't even know his name. Perhaps due to their circumstances and their quick haste to leave, he forgot to tell her his name. And even worse, she forgot to ask for hers. She was missing the vital part to her identity, and he sat not four feet away, his back to her, with the key to that knowledge. But she was far too scared to ask him. Wasn't she a burden enough, already? If only she would regain her memories! It would make everything so easy. She could remember trivial things about the world, but couldn't even recall anything about her own life.

All she knew was what he had told her. That he knew her, and that they were trying to find a suitable place to stay because the country was now in civil war. Carefully piecing those small facts together, she must have been fleeing too, but in the process had been hurt to a degree that she lost her memories. The throbbing at the back of her head, and the blood stained on her clothes, were testament enough. Aula had remarked that she had hit her head severely, and they needed to find a place to attend to her wounds properly. Right now, a piece of someone's clothing was wrapped tightly around her head to temporarily address her wound, but she could also feel the sting of many cuts and bruises on her body.

A sudden violent rocking of the carriage jostled them around, and her head made contact with something solid. She cried out in pain, unable to stop the small tears from escaping and hold in her silence. Soft arms suddenly embraced her, and she opened her eyes to find herself propped against Aula. Sniffing, she saw that both Danae and he were looking at her with worry. Something inside her froze at the attention, and she shied away, turning her face into Aula's bosom and bursting into tears.

Aula's arms tightened around her, murmuring in her ear like a mother would do. She heard Danae asking what was wrong, but his voice hushed the little girl. She didn't care though, knowing she was embarrassing herself by weeping so.

"It's alright, dear." Aula whispered, granting her the words she wanted to hear. It didn't feel as reassuring as she wanted. But Aula kept whispering over and over by instinct. "Everything will be alright. You just need to rest."

Her tears stopped at those words; not because of assurance but because of defiance. "No, I want—" but she stopped, a hitch stuck in her throat. Aula stilled as well, and a silence filled the carriage as they heard her speak for the first time in hours. She took the silence as a sign to keep talking. Aula let her ease out of the comforting embrace. She took a few seconds to wipe away her tears and cleared her throat. Drawing on an innate source of strength, she lifted her gaze to address him.

"I want t—to know my name."