Svelte: Your review totally made my day! Thanks for the great comments!

Dolphindreamer: I can't promise anything longer, as it's just not really the style of this story, but I will try to update regularly. I don't feel as bad about my chapters since I started re-reading The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. Some of his chapters are really short. Yeah, I know, weak reason for justifying myself, but still . . .

Ollie May: Glad you found the story! I really hope you enjoy what's coming up.

Bellachaos: Thanks for the nagging. It does help, trust me.

Chapter Eleven

Days passed uneventfully except for Aleron's customary visits. Elwyn and I talked. Slowly we began to trust each other. I hadn't ever had a real friend before, and we spent hours just getting to know each other. She was still a bit wary of me, and I was a bit wary of her, but we tried to be open. Sometimes she had chores, but she could usually slip away to visit me.

Then one day Aleron burst through the door and said excitedly, "Lyda! They've decided to let you outside."

I nearly cried with joy at the thought. I had spent so long in my little room, my prison. Of course I was allowed outside when I needed to use the bathroom (which wasn't exactly high-class), but never for more than a few brief moments.

My feet, although they were healing, were still sore and any pressure put on them made them throb and ache. I turned pale at this thought. I wanted so badly to go outside.

"What's wrong?" Aleron asked, noticing my expression.

"I can't walk," I said. "There's no way I can go outside."

"Then I'll carry you," he said.

"You can't carry me far," I argued. "I may be lighter than you, but I'm too heavy to carry for long."

"We're taking a horse, Lyda," Aleron said, grinning. "I just have to carry you to the horse."

"Oh," I replied. "Well then, let's go." He took me in his arms and pushed open the door. The sun was intoxicating to me. I savored its warm glow, throwing my head back and letting it warm my face. Aleron helped me mount his horse, then he climbed on behind me, taking the reigns. We galloped off.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"You'll see."

So I waited as patiently as I could, enjoying the fresh air and the smell of things growing. Finally we arrived at a tiny brook, surrounded by soft grasses. I was instantly reminded of the day I was captured, but I brushed the thought away. Aleron lifted me off his horse and carried me to the edge of the creek.

"Well, it's beautiful, but I still don't see why we're here," I said.

"We're here because I had one of the old slave-women make a special salve for you," Aleron replied. "She guarantees it will work, but first we need to take off your bandages and clean your feet again."

"So why couldn't we do that back at camp?" I questioned.

"I didn't want to waste any of our drinking water. Plus I wanted to spend some time with you. Any objections?"

"None," I said quickly. "Will this hurt?"

"Hopefully not," Aleron said. "When it hurts you, it hurts me too." For a moment I thought he was being sentimental, but then he added, "You kicked me, remember?"

"Sorry about that."

"It's all right. Now let's try to heal your feet."

Aleron carefully, gently removed the bandages from my feet. I winced, as it was painful. But this time, I didn't kick him. Then I soaked my feet in the brook, letting the cold water run over my wounds. Finally, Aleron pulled a pouch and a cup from a bag on his horse's saddle.

He filled the cup with water from the stream, then poured the contents of the pouch into the water. He mixed it with his finger, then took one of my feet and spread the solution over it. The salve was cool and thick. It was a pale green in color and it smelled of spices and herbs. It hurt a little for him to apply it, but I bit my lip and let him, just enjoying his company.

Eventually both feet were done, and Aleron wrapped them with clean bandages.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asked.

"I guess not," I replied.

"We're supposed to do this every day," he added. "Would you hate coming out here with me every day?"

"No," I said quickly. "Not at all."

"Good," he replied. He stared at me for a moment, then leaned in slowly.

I felt the color rise to my cheeks, and I was ready to lean in to when I blurted out, "Can't you tell me any more about George?"

Aleron drew back and looked at me strangely.

"You mean the boy who came to the camp?" he asked.

"Yes. But actually he's about my age. Older, even."

"Oh," Aleron said. "He came trying to find someone who would lend him some money."

"Money?" I asked. "He didn't . . . he didn't ask about me?"

"No. Were you expecting him to?"

"Not really. I just wondered . . ."

"How do you know him, anyway?" Aleron asked, laying back and propping himself up with his elbows.

"I don't really know him. Not very well, anyway. I've only seen him once."

"But . . . there's nothing . . . going on . . . between you?"

"No!" I said quickly. "No, it's nothing like that." Aleron's eyes brightened.

"Oh. Well . . . I guess that's good, then." Slowly, his face fell. "Since . . . you have to marry the prince."

"I'd almost forgotten," I said wistfully.

"I hadn't," Aleron said. "I tried, though."

Then he slowly bent down and kissed my cheek.