New Friends

When Will gently shook Lizzy awake, she was still leaning against him. "How do you feel?" he asked as she opened her eyes and looked around. The gray sky indicated that night had passed but dawn had not yet broken.

"Better," she answered, "not as tired. And you?"

"Satisfied. We made it through the night."

She looked at him with concern. "You didn't sleep at all?"

Will shrugged. "That was the point." He started to rise to his feet. "The sun will be up soon. We should start moving before anyone sees us."

When he offered his right hand to help her stand, she noticed blood on his left forearm. "Will, what happened?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's fine."

"I don't think so. That's a pretty bad cut. Sit down and let me have a look."

"Lizzy, we have to go," he said firmly.

"Not until I look at your arm." She watched his face turn severe and angry, just as it had when she first told him about the acorns. She wanted to laugh—didn't he know by now that she wouldn't let him intimidate her? "Will, I can be just as stubborn as you can, and then some. Now, sit!"

Will was still frowning, but she saw amusement flash through his eyes as he sat back down. Lizzy removed her apron, flipping it over to its cleaner side, and began tearing it into strips. "May I see your flask?" she asked.

Will unhooked the flask from his belt and handed it to her. She opened it and began to pour water onto one of the strips of cloth.

"Lizzy, don't!" he scolded. "We don't have much left."

"I have seen cuts like this become quite red and swollen if they are not cleaned, and the bearers of the cuts become very ill soon thereafter. I don't want that to happen to you."

He gave in reluctantly, holding out his arm to her. She took it in hand and pressed the damp cloth against the wound, causing him to wince for a brief moment. Lizzy realized that she felt no awkwardness in tending to him this way. It felt natural.

She had been truthful the day before when she told him she found his company pleasant. As long as she did not allow herself to think of the battle—and reminded herself that at least John's life had been spared—then she could block out the memory of what she had witnessed Will do. When she did so, she found that she actually quite liked him. He was steadfast, determined to look out for her in this peculiar situation in which they found themselves. Because she had felt alone for so long, having someone to rely on was an immense encouragement to her. Furthermore, she had to admit she was charmed by the touches of vulnerability he revealed beneath his tough exterior, such as squeezing her hand now and then as if to reassure himself that she was still with him.

When she had finished removing the blood and dirt from Will's arm, she took a dry strip of her apron and wrapped it snugly around the injury. "How did this happen?" she asked.

He did not look at her as he answered, "I did it to stay awake."

Lizzy peered at him, a little stunned. He had done that for her sake? "Thank you," she said softly.

Before Will could respond, they heard a voice yell, "You two! What are you doing there?" A red-faced middle aged man, probably the owner of the shop with the barrels, had approached and was staring at them.

Will stood up, and the shopkeeper backed a few feet away. Will was a big man, and perhaps scary looking to him. "Our apologies, sir. We'll be on our way."

As he took her hand to lead her into the street, Lizzy thought, Impressive. Will was very good with the Auroran accent, sounding not very different at all than the man who had yelled at them.

They began another day of walking, this time much more difficult. They were weak from hunger and their legs felt heavier. Although the Auroran night had been cold, the days were hotter than in Merrytown, and their throats had become quite parched. As Will had warned, the water in his flask was nearly gone.

"We should head for the city's central marketplace," Will said. "That will be the safest place for us. We can get lost in the crowd and not appear suspicious in our wandering."

They reached the area about an hour later. "Will you steal?" Lizzy asked, almost hoping he would say yes, the sight and smell of food in the market lessening her scruples.

"No," he answered. "At this point, I wouldn't be able to run fast if someone saw me, so I'd certainly get caught. I won't put you at risk like that, Lizzy."

As they walked, she tried to ignore the pangs in her belly by looking at the goods of various non-food merchants: a boy selling scarves, a young woman vending flowers, an older woman standing at a cart filled with clay objects. A small old man, his back to Will and Lizzy, was talking with the older woman.

Will halted when they spotted the old man and woman, and watched them carefully for a while. Lizzy found his behavior strange, since he had warned her about acting suspicious in any way. When the woman said her goodbyes, the man turned around, and she heard Will catch his breath. He motioned for her to draw closer to the old man, whose skin was deeply wrinkled and whose head was nearly bald. Suddenly, Will called out, "Thumpin?"

Lizzy watched in amazement. Did Will know this man?

The old man smiled a gap-toothed grin. "Ah, you must mean my cousin, Thurman. If you know him, then you have come from far away. You must be hungry and tired. Come, come and break bread with me today."

He turned and began walking, not looking back, as if he were certain they would follow. Will hesitated, but Lizzy tugged at his hand. "He knows someone you know, Will," Lizzy said. "And I am very hungry."

Will frowned but nodded. The man led them out of the marketplace and through narrow cobblestone roads until finally they came upon a small cottage.

The man smiled and turned toward his guests as he opened the door. "Come in, come in," he said.

Inside, the one-roomed cottage was warm and clean, containing only few pieces of furniture: a bed, a table and chair, a small cabinet, and a loom. "Here, my dear." The old man pulled out the chair at the table and gestured for Lizzy to sit.

"You may sit on the bed, my friend," he said to Will.

When they were settled, the old man walked over to a large pot hanging over the fire. He pulled down two small clay bowls that rested on the mantle, and began to ladle soup into them. Will, she noticed, watched the man's every move warily.

The old man brought the bowls to his guests. His hunger apparently greater than his suspicion, Will ate as ravenously as Lizzy did and accepted a second filling.

"This was delicious, sir," Lizzy said upon finishing. "Thank you."

The old man smiled again. "My pleasure. Anything for friends of my Pemberlean cousin."

"You know that we're from Pemberlea?" she asked.

"Of course. How else would you know Thurman?"

"And you welcomed us into your home anyway?"

"Our countries were not always at war, you know. When I was a boy, Aurorans and Pemberleans traveled freely back and forth across the border. Although my cousin's father was from here, he met Thurman's mother on a trip to your homeland. He stayed with her in Pemberlea, and there Thurman was born. Yet we grew up together because we saw each other during yearly visits."

Lizzy was amazed. She had spent her life hearing how awful Aurorans were, even before the war. She never would have imagined such a time of friendship in her country's history. What interesting stories this man must have to tell!

"Oh!" she suddenly cried, standing and curtseying to the old man, whose name she realized she did not even know. "I have forgotten my manners. My name is Elizabeth, but most people call me Lizzy."

The man's green eyes twinkled. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Lizzy. My name is Truman." He turned toward Will. "And you are?"

"Her husband," Will, who did not stand, replied tersely. "Will."

Lizzy looked at him uneasily. Why was he lying?

"Well, Will and Lizzy, I am honored to have you as my guests. But as you can see, my home is very small. If you are staying the night in our city, I have a good friend with extra room."

"We have a place to stay," Will said quickly.

"No, we don't," Lizzy answered.

"Yes, we do."

"No, we DON'T, Will!" Lizzy turned back to Truman. "We were set upon by thieves last night, and then slept behind barrels on the street. It was frightening."

"I protected you," Will snapped.

"I know, Will, but you shouldn't have to, not when a kind man is offering us a safe place to stay!"

Truman chuckled. "Young man, I know how hard it is for men to accept help sometimes. But by allowing my friend to shelter you, you are protecting and caring for your wife. I do not think your lady will find you any less of a man by doing so. Isn't that right, Miss Lizzy?"

Lizzy nodded. "That's right. I already know what a brave man you are, Will. You don't need to scare off ruffians again to prove it."

Will snorted gruffly, but a quick smile crossed his face. "All right, Truman. I'll let you take us to your friend tonight."

"Thank you, my friend, she'll be honored."

Lizzy laughed. "It is we who owe you thanks."

She looked at the loom, and the various fabrics, needles and threads lying about the cottage. "Are you a tailor, Truman?"

"Ay, that I am, and I think I can say a good one. I even sew for the king."

"You're a tailor to the king? How wonderful! But I would have imagined the king's tailor living in the castle."

"The castle does employ many tailors, but I only do one task for the king, sew his royal sash. The rest of my work is for the people of this city."

The presence of clean, dry cloths gave her an idea. "Truman, do you have any spirits?"

He appeared a bit puzzled by her request, but answered affirmatively. He walked over to the mantle and reached for a bottle, which he brought to her.

"And would it be possible to have a large piece of your fabric? To keep, that is?"

"Of course, Miss Lizzy." Truman selected a soft piece of cloth for her.

"Now," Lizzy said, turning to Will, "we can really clean that wound of yours."

Will's eyes widened in alarm. "Oh, no, you won't!"

"Are you planning to be a baby about this?"

He glared at her, and she laughed. "And now you are offended because I called you a baby? You, of all people?"

Will tried to maintain his glower, but soon enough his face broke into a smile and his eyes danced with laughter. Lizzy wondered how much of his life he had spent hiding his sense of humor beneath stern expressions.

Will sighed and held out his arm to her, his lips still curved up in amusement. She removed the strip of apron she had applied earlier, making Will hiss softly since it had become stuck to his skin. She then dampened a piece of Truman's cloth with the spirits and used it to thoroughly cleanse Will's cut. He gritted his teeth as it no doubt stung fiercely, but otherwise did not react. She somehow knew that it was a point of pride for him to bear the pain with strength.

When she had bound the wound again with a new piece of fabric, Truman remarked, "She takes good care of you, I see."

"That she does," Will said with a smile. "My own personal physician."

A little embarrassed, Lizzy sat down in the chair again. "Truman, please tell me more about your childhood and your cousin," she requested, eager to learn more about their host and turn the attention away from herself. Truman's voice was deeper than she might have imagined given his short stature, and it rumbled like the patter of raindrops against a house. She liked listening to him.

She continued to chat with the older man for a while until a loud cacophony interrupted them. Will, thoroughly spent by two nearly sleepless nights and lulled by a full belly and warm room, had sprawled across the bed, snoring loudly. She and Truman both laughed.

"Well, young lady," Truman said, "I think that's my signal to get back to work. I'll leave you two here while I deliver goods to some of my customers."

After Truman exited the cottage, Lizzy sat on the chair, watching Will sleep. As his snoring gradually dulled to a minor hum, she studied his face. Two day's worth of black stubble had grown above his lip and on his chin. With his eyes closed, she could see that his dark lashes were very long. His jaw was strong, and he had a dimple in his chin. He was, she thought with a smile, quite handsome.

But he puzzled her. He was a good man in many ways, loyal, giving, and even gentle at times. The fox, the fact that he could see the gemstones—all this suggested he was the man she had been waiting for. Yet he was filled with such anger and hatred for the Aurorans. How could such a man bring peace? She felt down to her bones that that was why they had come, but what did it mean that Will was unwilling?

She suddenly thought about how he had cut himself to stay awake and protect her, an act which had moved her deeply. This was a man willing to sacrifice himself for another. The man of honor was in him somewhere, she just knew it.

Truman returned later in the day as the sun was beginning to set. Lizzy, who had fallen asleep also, woke up with a sore neck from resting her head in her arms on the old man's table. She turned her head from side to side to relieve the stiffness, and then gently nudged Will awake. They each ate another bowl of Truman's delicious soup before joining the small man for the walk to his friend's house.

As they made their way through the narrow streets at twilight, Lizzy finally took the time to enjoy looking around her. The previous day, she had been anxious to follow Will's instructions and not appear the wide-eyed country girl. Yet that was what she was; this was her first visit ever to a city. The bumpy cobblestone roads were hard on her feet, accustomed as she was to fields and forests, and she missed the variety of animals and plant life. The wide assortment of people, however, fascinated her; she had never seen so many in one place! She wished she could stop each one and learn about his or her life. She smiled to herself as she considered that Will would certainly have a fit were she to do so.

They finally came to a house about the size of Lizzy's own, made of multi-colored stone and surrounded by a fence. Truman opened the gate and led them to the door. He knocked, and the door was answered by the plump, gray-haired woman they had seen Truman talking with in the marketplace earlier in the day. She was elderly, but did not appear to be anywhere near as old as Truman. Her skin looked dry and soft, rather than leathery like his. She was taller than Truman by a few inches. Her eyes were blue, and like her friend's, they were shining and alive.

The woman beamed when she saw them. "Why, good evening, Truman! Come in!" She ushered them in the door, asking, "Who have you brought to visit me this fine evening?"

"These are my friends, Will and his wife Lizzy. They are strangers from out of town, and need a place to spend the night." Truman introduced the woman to them as Dottie.

"Well, of course they can stay here! I have plenty of room. Where are you from, Will and Lizzy?"

"Not from here," Will answered sharply, again in a pitch-perfect Auroran accent.

"Oh," Dottie said softly, perhaps taken aback by Will's abruptness. However, she quickly recovered, and gave them a warm smile. "Welcome to our city! I hope you enjoy your time here."

"Thank you," Lizzy said quickly, wanting to soothe any hurt feelings the woman, who was so generously opening her home to them, might have had.

"I think they're quite tired," said Truman. "I came home this afternoon to find them both sleeping soundly."

"I'm sure you must be. I will go prepare your room now!" Dottie said to her new guests before bustling away.

Truman smiled. "Dottie's daughter is gone and married, and her husband and son are dead. She is lonely in this house by herself. She loves to have guests."

"We're happy to be here," Lizzy said. "But she should know that we're not—"

Will grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. She glared at him, but said no more.

Dottie soon returned. "This way," she said, leading them down a corridor to a small bedroom.

The room was chilly but a fire, likely recently lit by Dottie, had begun to cackle. The room contained a bed that was piled high with quilts and pillows.

"I will let you rest," Dottie told them. "Please let me know if you need anything." She exited the room.

Lizzy looked around, burning with anger. "There's only one bed here," she said accusingly.

Will avoided her eyes. "I'll sleep on the floor. There appear to be plenty of blankets."

She pulled several blankets off the bed and threw them at him. "You were rude out there, Will. And why did you say we were married? Why did you lie to them?"

He caught the bed linens before they hit him. "I don't know whether we can trust these people."

"They're very kind."

"Kindness can be deceptive. And they're Aurorans. None of them can be trusted."

"You still could have been polite, and you should NOT have put us in this situation," she said crossly.

Will began to spread the blankets on the floor. "Lizzy, we just spent the last two nights together. I think we can handle sharing a bedroom. Besides, I want to keep you close, to protect you."

Lizzy didn't answer. She wanted to argue that being together in the discomfort and danger of the tunnel and street was very different than sleeping side by side in this cozy room, but his words about protecting her held her back. She knew she'd feel more secure with him next to her.

Uncertain what to do next, she sat down on the bed and removed the ribbon from her hair.

"You look very pretty with your hair down."

Startled, Lizzy glanced at Will, who was now lying on his makeshift bed.

He started to blush, and stammered, "I mean, I always think you're pretty. But now with your hair… I just…"

Lizzy couldn't help but smile. How could he be so infuriating one second, and so… sweet the next?

To ease both their embarrassment, she changed the subject. "Who is Thumpin? Or is it Thurman?"

"A tailor in the northlands of Pemberlea."

"How do you know him?"

He paused before answering. "When I was thirteen, my father and I traveled to have Thumpin make me … some clothing."

Lizzy grinned. "Now I know for certain you are rich, because who but a rich family could travel to another part of the country to have clothing made?"

"That's humorous to you?" From his position on the floor, he was frowning.

"I didn't mean to offend you. I am only smiling because you don't seem like a rich man."

"How does a rich man seem?"

"Like Caroline or Widow Burg."

"They're not rich."

"They used to be, and they never let anyone forget it. But you—you seem ordinary."

"Ordinary?" he grinned, revealing a dimple in his cheek to match the one in his chin.

She laughed. "No, you're anything but ordinary. But you are not afraid to get your hands dirty, or to work hard. And you do not set yourself up above other people. That's all I meant."

He was gazing at her with a look that made her stomach jump. Nevertheless, she was feeling more at ease. She wanted to continue to get to know him better. Perhaps that was the key to overcoming her discomfort about sharing the room.

"What is your family like, Will?"

He didn't answer. "Will?" she said again after a few moments.

"I don't want to talk about them."

"Why not?"

"Because my mother is dead, my father is ill, and I'm an only child. Now stop asking."

Lizzy exhaled, embarrassed and a little hurt by the break in their camaraderie.

"I didn't mean to snap at you, Lizzy," he apologized a few seconds later. "Why don't you tell me about your family instead?"

"You've met them."

"Yes, but I've never heard about them from you."

She thought for a moment. "My family is loving, but… I am the odd one. I wasn't always, but ever since I met the foxes and received the treasure, they have known something was strange about me. My mother is embarrassed by it, and so she is very critical of me. With so many young men off to war or dead, she and my sisters spend most of their time thinking about how my sisters will ever find husbands, while I am busy wondering how to save the world. My father escapes from all the female madness by playing his fiddle."

"You and Jane seem very close."

"We are… and we aren't. We used to tell each other everything, but she knows I am keeping a secret from her. It has erected a wall between us that I have never been able to bring down. And so, even though I have a large family, I am very lonely."

He was looking at her that way again. "I understand, Lizzy. I have felt isolated for much of my life, even though I too am surrounded by people."

"And you also have secrets."

"Yes."

His admission made her feel sad. His secrets formed another wall, like the one between her and Jane. For some reason, she didn't want any barriers between her and Will.

She immediately chided herself for this thought. No mother, no brothers or sisters, and an ill father. He had far more reason than she did to be lonely, and to keep his feelings to himself. She looked at him to communicate her compassion. As she did, she was struck by the thought, His eyes are very beautiful.

"I was fourteen," he said, startling her out of her musing about his eyes.

"What's that?"

"When my mother died, I was fourteen years old. Nothing was ever the same for my father and me afterward. That's why it's difficult to talk about."

"I'm very sorry. You must miss her a great deal."

"Yes, I do. I am sorry for you as well."

"Whatever for?"

"That you have had to go through such pain with your family. You are much too loving a person, Lizzy. You deserve better."

Lizzy didn't know how to answer. She had never told anyone how solitary her family had made her feel. Her troubles were nothing compared to his, yet to have Will wish for something better for her after what he had been through almost brought tears to her eyes.

The sensation of thirst a few moments later made her realize she was staring at Will, and he at her. She stood up. "I'm going to ask Dottie for some water. May I get you anything?"

Will stroked his chin with his hand. "As a matter of fact, yes. This is becoming quite itchy. Will you ask Dottie, and Truman if he's still here, if either of them has a blade so that I can shave?"

She nodded and left the room. In the corridor as she approached the house's foyer, she heard Dottie and Truman talking.

"…is him?" Dottie was saying.

"Ay, of that I am quite certain," Truman answered.

"I can scarcely believe it, and here in my home! Why have they come? Do you think their intentions are peaceful?"

"I feel very strongly that they are. They have an air of goodness, these two."

They were talking about Will and her, Lizzy presumed. Had Truman just informed Dottie that they were from Pemberlea?

"What shall you do?"

"I have already sent word to King Thomas, requesting a meeting with him. If he answers affirmatively, I will take the young man. That way, he can fulfill his purpose."

Lizzy stopped and placed her hand over her mouth, her heart thumping. Were their hosts planning to hand them over to their king?

"You won't let them come to harm, will you, Tru?"

"I will do everything in my power to protect them. I promise you, Dottie."

Lizzy breathed a sigh of relief. Truman and Dottie were truly their friends. But their talk of a purpose for Will made her wonder. Did they see something special in him, they way she did? They must, she thought. For if they meant them no harm, for what other reason would they take Will to see their king if not to try to make peace between their countries?

Truman began saying his goodnights to Dottie, so Lizzy decided to enter the vestibule.

"Ah, there, love," Dottie said when she spotted her. "Do you need something?"

"Yes, please. I'd like some water, if it's not too much trouble, and Will asks for a blade to shave with."

"No!" Truman shouted. "You must not allow him to shave!"

Lizzy looked at him, mystified at the odd overreaction to her request.

The old man walked toward her and took her hands in his own. "Do you trust me, Miss Lizzy?"

"Yes, I do," Lizzy answered truthfully, remembering his promise to protect them.

"Then please accept that what I am asking is important. He must let his beard grow as full as it can. Will you help me in this way?"

Lizzy nodded, although she was still puzzled. "Of course, but I will miss seeing his handsome face behind the hair."

Dottie hooted in laughter. "Young love! So beautiful!"

Lizzy found herself blushing. She would soon need to enlighten them that she and Will were not married. But not tonight. She had to return to the room to convince Will that he would not be able to shave.

By the time she arrived at the bedroom, it was unnecessary, at least for that night. Will lay amid the blankets on the floor, fast asleep.