Gwendolyn had been walking for days. Her body was weak with hunger and exhaustion from the endless walking. The mountains between Brailan and Lorayne were quite bare and not as beautiful as they looked from high up, but the occasional forests were pleasant and cool, though she never found edible food. The berries she found were always either rotten or just poisonous, and grass was neither healthy nor tasty to munch on. She had taken to crunching on the flowers she found, and she used strips of Forno leaves to hold her clothing together.
Mr. Nittle, however, was perfectly content with the grass, though he had shrunk considerably.
Gwendolyn threw her cloak over her head to shield herself from the heavy rain. She walked through the muck to the cover of the forest ahead, but then broke into a run, not wanting to be soaking wet.
When she finally reached the cover of tress, it was only slightly damp inside. She draped her wet cloak over a tree branch and sat down in the dim light, the trees blocking out the light from the setting sun.
She definitely saw no Forno trees, and the few flowers that were there were either wilted or dead. The only trees in sight were pinecone trees.
Gwendolyn was shaking with hunger and coldness, but then she forced herself to get up and find wood to make a fire.
She found sticks, and she gathered them together, then took two and began to rub them together.
"How do you do this?" she muttered, looking quite uncertain. The only way she could think of was to scrape two sticks together.
Still looking extremely doubtful, she began to rub the sticks together for a while, but to no avail. Licking her chapped lips, she shoved a strand of loose hair behind her ear and rubbed harder. After what seemed like an hour, she gave up.
"I can't do this," she sighed to Mr. Nittle, who had been nibbling on a stick. He looked up at her with his large, unblinking eyes, then returned to his stick, as if to say "Whatever".
She got up and sauntered over to another pinecone tree, peering around fallen branches and bushes. With a shout, she leapt over a bush and fell on her knees by a small creek, grinning from ear to ear.
Without a word, she began to pull off her dress and cloak. Her body was wet with sweat and her fingernails had cakes of dirt under them. Hopping in, she began to bathe, rubbing furiously at the grime on her face, then in her hair; she had not bathed for days.
Soon Mr. Nittle joined her, cautiously sticking a foot in the water, then leaping back.
Gwendolyn giggled and kneeled on the bottom of the creek, leaning her neck back to let the water run through her hair, watching the dirt float away.
She remained in the creek for a few hours, rubbing herself until she was rubbed raw, but clean.
She stepped out, dripping, and lay in the warmest spot she could find. This spot was on a rock directly beside the creek, and if she should roll over, she was very likely to slip into the creek.
She lay there for an hour, just drying herself, closing her eyes slightly, feeling the cool wind that occasionally blew on her face, a small smile playing on her lips. But then she was done drying, and she got up to dress herself.
She went back to where Mr. Nittle was, and found he had fallen asleep in a furry lump. She lay down next to him and closed her eyes. The grass was soft, and comfortable. In moments she was in a deep sleep.
Hours passed by. It grew darker with each one. And then came the gypsies.
They had heard Gwendolyn splashing about in the creek, and were intent on finding the cause of the noise, when they usually experienced absolutelyno one.
They came upon her, on her side, her hands clasped over her stomach. Her eyes were closed lightly, her lashes resting on her cheeks. One of the gypsies held a finger to his lips, grinning viciously, and prodded her.
The girl made a sniffing sound and rolled over onto her stomach, a little grunt sounding before she quieted down again, quite still.
"Just carry her," hissed one of the men, who was interested in the girl, who would be a perfect friend for his only daughter.
"What will we do with her?"
Not wanting to seem soft, the man said, "I know something that will keep her busy."
The other men shrugged and lifted her as easily as if she were a feather. They walked for a few minutes before coming upon a clearing in the forest, where a fire was glowing, spitting sparks into the air, men and women alike sitting around it, laughing and enjoying a meal.
"I'll take her," the man said, picking her up and carrying her to his tent. He lay her down next to his thirteen year old daughter, who was fast asleep. He took one last look at the peaceful face and wondered if he had been right in doing this (what if she had a family nearby?), before quickly leaving, the tent flap going down again, his thoughts shoved away by hunger. He sat down by his wife around the fire and took some food, and began to eat.
------o----------o------------o-----------------o-------------------------o---------------------------o
When Gwendolyn woke up, she saw a girl lying next to her, her eyes half closed, and she jumped up quickly, but her head hit the top of the tent, and she looked around, realizing where she was.
Gwendolyn nervously touched the girl, afraid she might be dead. But the girl's eyelids fluttered and the girl said, "Hmmm?" before returning to her slumber.
Gwendolyn pulled the flap of the tent and stepped out. She looked around and came to the conclusion that this was a gypsy camp, and that it was morning, and—
"Good morning."
Gwendolyn jumped and looked up at the man who had spoken to her, the man who had appeared out of no where.
"Good morning," she said. "Pardon me, sir, but I was wondering…"
"Where you are?"
"Oh no, I know where I am," she said, looking around and recognizing the pinecone trees. "I was just wondering how I got here."
The man looked nervous. "Oh, if you want to go back to your family—"
"Oh, no," Gwendolyn said quickly. "I—" she paused, then decided that it wouldn't be very smart to tell him of her royalty. "I have gone out into the world, and my parents live far away. I do not want to return to them."
"I see," the man said, still looking slightly edgy. "Well, then, I took you. The other men and I heard you earlier and decided to look around; we are not used to other people, you see, we thought we were quite alone out in the middle of no where. And then we saw you, and I thought you might be a good…friend of my daughter."
Gwendolyn gestured toward the tent she had just come out of. "Is that her in there?" she asked.
"Yes," the man said.
"Very well, then," Gwendolyn replied. Her stomach screamed for food, as she had not eaten in days. "Er…do you have food?"
The man looked very serious and melancholy as he said, "I'm so sorry. We haven't had food in a long time."
Gwendolyn put a hand to her mouth, surprised for them and also afraid that she would die if she didn't eat, when the man burst out laughing.
"Of course we have food," he said. He steered her over to a pile of wood, which, from the look of it, had had a fire. He sat her down on a log and said, "Wait right here, I'll get you something to eat."
Her stomach growled in the reply, and the man laughed again before heading back to a tent. When he came out, he had beans, salad, some meat, and fruit, all piled onto a piece of Forno leaf, which was strong enough to carry all of the food.
"Thank you," the poor girl gasped, and she ate the food at once, gobbling it up until there was nothing more.
Surprisingly, when the plate was cleared, she was quite full, and did not require any more.
"Have some coffee," the man said, holding out a mug toward her. She drank the strange bitter liquid and grimaced.
"Do you not like it?"
"Oh, no," Gwendolyn said quickly. "I like the taste very much—it's simply very strong."
"Yes, it is extremely strong," the man agreed, nodding and drinking his own mug.
They sat in silence for a while, before Gwendolyn voiced the question that was running around and around in her head.
"Where did you get food and drink and…everything?"
The man set down his mug beside him and leaned his elbows on his knees. "We usually carry around dried fruits and meat, but the food you ate is fresh. If you go farther into the forest, you will find food; animals to kill, fruits, an some lettuce, of course. And we nicked the mugs and cutlery and…" the man waved his hand in the air. "I hope you don't judge us like the rest of you people do."
Gwendolyn shook her head, her eyes wide. "I never really thought of it as bad, or evil."
They were silent for a little while longer.
"What is your name?"
Gwendolyn looked up. "Gwendolyn," she said. "And yours?"
The man smiled. "Arman."
------o----------o------------o-----------------o-------------------------o---------------------------o
For
the next few weeks, Gwendolyn lived and worked with the gypsies,
entertained Arman's daughter, Vena, and lived like she was Arman's
daughter. Arman was a very kind, middle aged man, whose heart had
never truly wished for Gwendolyn to be taken the way she was, though
when he told her every detail, she still did not mind.
"I like it here," she insisted. "I don't ever want to leave."
But then Brailan came into her mind, and at times she found herself daydreaming about it, though she did not want to leave Arman, because he was growing ill.
Mr. Nittle had come earlier, and he loved sitting on Arman while the man tickled the squirrel behind the ears, told him stories about his childhood (while Mr. Nittle sat, staring at the man, alert and quiet), or just sat outside, enjoying the weather or watching one of the women dance. Mr. Nittle grew very close to Arman, and he rarely followed Gwendolyn around. Instead, he took to perching on the man's knee, allowing himself to be fawned over and petted.
One day, Arman fell into a fit of coughing. Blood was pouring into his mouth. Gwendolyn, who was transfixed with horror, finally returned to her body and ran to fetch a bowl of water, where she placed Arman's hands and then ripped some cloth from her cloak and pressed it to the man's mouth, feeling the warm blood through the cloth.
Arman coughed harder, until his whole body shook from the effort, the hacking cough growing louder and louder, while making his body tremble even more. Finally, his hands shook so hard that the bowl was knocked over and crashed to the ground, water spilling over the dirt. Arman stopped after a few minutes, and Gwendolyn dropped the blood soaked cloth on the ground and instructed Arman to breathe, while the women and men around him rushed around in panic, fetching all sorts of herbs and other things to try and help him ease the coughing, which they knew would come back, and to sooth his throat, which was probably terribly sore.
Arman was extremely pale when he summoned his wife and daughter and requested to talk alone with them. The men and women stuffed sachets of herbs and other things into his still trembling hands before hurrying away, to the other side of the camp. Gwendolyn made to follow them, but Arman stopped her, holding out a hand to prevent her from going farther.
His wife, Naida, was crying. Vena was silent, but Gwendolyn could see the fear on her face. And Gwendolyn was frightened, her face pale, even her freckles faded to tiny spots.
"My dears," he began in a raspy voice. He lowered it as he continued.
"My dears, I wish for you all to do whatever you want. When I die I want for you to burn my body and sprinkle the ashes in the creek and let the float away. Get rid of all my things, they will have germs from my illness. Throw out the tent I sleep in as well; we don't want anything getting around. And let Gwendolyn do whatever she wants."
Arman turned to Gwendolyn, who had tears rolling down her cheeks. "Gwendolyn," he said, smiling gently at her. "I want you to continue to Brailan. You don't belong here. Brailan is only at least two days away, and you can request food and sturdier clothing, and then you and dear Mr. Nittle can go to Brailan."
Gwendolyn nodded, her tears splashing on the ground. Arman smiled. "I do want to stay here, though," she said in a cracked voice.
Arman smiled slightly.
"Now I am at peace," he said in a voice that was almost a sigh in the wind, and he closed his eyes and leaned back into his favorite chair.
All his wishes were carried out; the somber ceremony that followed his death went exactly as he had wished it. They burned him, watching turn to nothing but ash, then gathered his ashes and threw them into the creek.
Naida offered Gwendolyn some of the ashes ("He loved you as a daughter," she said) but Gwendolyn refused, throwing her hands behind her back. She stared, wide-eyed and miserable, as the ashes were scattered over the creek then carried away, swishing right by her. Vena began to wail, and Naida steered her back to their tent.
After a week, it was almost as if Arman had never been there, but had it not been for the depressing air of the camp, anyone new would have no idea of anything at all.
Things, however, returned to almost normal after a month or two. Vena and Naida were still in tears, and they did not know what it was like to be dry-faced.
One night, when Gwendolyn was sitting alone, eating her dinner away from the other gypsies, a young man about her age she had spotted weeks before came up behind her.
"Are you alright?" he asked in a thick Romanian accent.
Gwendolyn looked up from her untouched beans, then resumed her staring at the stars. "Yes," she said pensively.
The boy sat down beside her on the log, contemplating the stars as well.
Gwendolyn managed to eat some food before setting it down on the ground, not very hungry. She was quiet, watching the boy from the corner of her eye now, wondering what he wanted.
Then suddenly, she was whipped around and his lips were on hers, a hand sliding down to her waist. Gwendolyn, who was not very adept in the world of men, did not know what to do, and just allowed herself to be kissed and touched, before he pulled away, casually said, "Good night", got up and walked away.
Gwendolyn was bright red, and was thankful for the dark. She sat there for many minutes more, brooding over the kiss, before returning to her tent and falling asleep.
The next morning, when she saw the boy, she smiled slightly, and he smiled back and started toward her. He took her hand in his and led her away, to the crows and whistles of the boys of his age.
He pulled her until they were far away from the camp, until it was so deathly quiet and still that Gwendolyn wondered whether there was anyone around here at all besides them.
"What is your name?" she asked, before the kissing she knew he intended on doing started.
"Leo," the boy said, and then began to kiss her, leaning her up against a tree and pressing into her, his hands sliding down her dress.
Gwendolyn suddenly shrieked and bounced away, straightening her dress and staring at him.
"What were you doing?" she cried. As was mentioned before, she did not know nor understand the whole new world of…what was it? Kissing? Or just being…an adult?
The boy was grinning roguishly and took a giant step toward her to resume the kissing.
"NO!" Gwendolyn jumped back, nearly falling into a tree. Steadying herself, she looked at him.
"What were you doing?" she repeated.
The boy looked truly surprised then. "Do you really mean it when you say that?"
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes to the heavens and said, "What else would I mean?"
Leo shuffled his feet. "Well," he said. "Most women would mean it as in the way that they don't like it. But you really don't understand?"
Gwendolyn nodded, her eyebrows raised.
"Er, well…" Leo looked at his toes, a blush creeping up into his face. "You know how babies come into the world, don't you?"
Gwendolyn hit his head. "Of course I do!" she said hotly, turning red herself.
"Well…when people fall in love, they usually…"
"I KNOW ABOUT THAT!"
"Well, not right away, but they kind of…get used to each other…" Leo shrugged his shoulders suddenly, his face bright red. "It's rather hard to explain."
Gwendolyn now looked less confused, however. "I think I understand…" she said slowly. "Though I must tell you that it has never been on my mind…like most girls…"
Leo looked relieved. "So you understand some of it."
Gwendolyn turned away. "I suppose so, yes."
Leo cleared the space between them once more. "May I kiss you again?" he asked gently, tilting up her face with a finger.
Gwendolyn felt a warmth spread from where his finger touched to her toes, and soon she was blushing even harder, if that was possible, and she felt a little jittery.
"Yes," she said in a voice that was almost a whisper, and he kissed her again.
"Welcome to the world, Gwen," Leo said after a few minutes of kissing.
------o----------o------------o-----------------o-------------------------o---------------------------o
They were together for a few weeks, soon getting to know each other, and then kissing some more. And then one night, they fell apart.
The day had been perfect for Gwendolyn. She had spent the day with Leo, talking, occasionally falling into a passionate kissing episode, then tearing themselves apart, both of them smiling rather sheepishly and continuing their conversation. Gwendolyn sang as she worked with Vena, helping her wash some clothing in the creek.
That night at dinner, Gwendolyn waited for Leo, sitting where they had first kissed. They had eaten there every night since then, together, alone, normally forgetting their food as they talked on and on.
Gwendolyn looked around, hesitant. Where was he? She sat there for at least ten more minutes, then got up and made her way back to the fire, where everyone else was eating, planning to see if he was there.
She did not see him. She then started toward his tent. The flap was open when she approached it, and she quickened her pace, opening her mouth to call Leo. Then she saw a flash of familiar brown hair, and she rounded the tent, grinning, opening her mouth to call him, when—
Her mouth hung open, and she felt slightly sick at the scene that lay before her. It was Leo, indeed, though not alone, as she had thought. He was with a pretty girl that she recognized as one of the daughters of the men who had been friends with Arman. And he and the pretty girl were kissing.
Gwendolyn felt her heart breaking. Hadn't Leo loved her? Didn't he?
She clapped a hand to her mouth and ran, her eyes getting watery. She went into the tent she shared with Vena and sat down, hugging herself, curling her feet underneath her. She stared into the darkness, and her strangled sobs sounded throughout the tent.
------o----------o------------o-----------------o-------------------------o---------------------------o
Leo never came back. He did not even offer any apology, or explanation. He continued with the girl, but then Gwendolyn saw another, even prettier girl after the one she had seen kissing him behind his tent, and then, a few weeks later, another girl. She concluded that Leo was merely a seducer, and should not lose her heart because of him.
But she still could not remember when she had been happier. It had been the first time that any sort of boy had paid her any sort of attention in an attracted way. But in time, her heart mended, and she found herself sniffing in disgust around Leo whenever she saw another girl with him, and she retrieved her dreams of Brailan.
It had been almost a year since she had left her parents in Lorayne. She had started out for Brailan, so why didn't she continue her journey?
And so, she requested sturdier clothing and food for her journey, and Naida made her a lovely pair of boots, tunic, and breeches, which she said were better for traveling than a dress. She gathered together dried fruits and meat, wrapped them all in a big bundle, and gave Gwendolyn her blessings for the journey.
Some of the gypsies, excluding Leo but including Naida and Vena, came to see her off.
"Have this knife, you can use it to protect you," Naida handed her a small knife. Gwendolyn smiled and nodded gratefully, tucking the knife in her belt, making sure it was keep still and not fall out.
"You might do well with this," a man said, producing a bow and a quiver of arrows. He slung them on her back. "They will be useful for hunting."
Gwendolyn did not mention she did not know how to use a bow and arrow. Instead, she nodded again and thanked the man.
Naida enveloped Gwendolyn in her arms and kissed her forehead.
"You will always be in our hearts, Gwendolyn, dear."
Vena also hugged Gwendolyn.
"You will come back, won't you, Gwen?" the girl said, her bottom lip quivering.
"I shall try," she said sincerely.
Gwendolyn turned around and began to walk into the forest. "Which way?" she called back.
One of the men pointed to her right. "Go that way for a while, and once you come out of the forest, you will be on plain land with no trees or bushes or anything. You will continue on, straight, but once you're out of the forest you'll be able to find your way."
"Thank you, and good bye again!" Gwendolyn waved and turned back around, and began to walk to her right. Soon the bushes obscured the gypsies from view, but she could hear the calls of good bye and one final call:
"God be with you, lady!"