-1Accepting her reaction as one of blissful rapture, the hunter lay down the basket and strode to Ane. With a grip to arm-wrestle a bear (and win) he held her shoulders, stood a moment just looking at her (oh, Ahrand's star, he's going to butcher me, Ane thought) then wrapped his arms around her as if to smother he bear he had just arm-wrestled. When he released her both their breasts heaved; while Ane tried desperately to catch her breath, the hunter fought back tears to say, "Your grandmother has given her consent- she even agreed to provide the priest- Ane, we can be married on the morrow! And-" he sniffed, "-and, as if that weren't enough," he beamed at the crone, "she bought us a house, just along the hedgerow."

Ane found herself completely incapable of movement. Seeing no reaction from his betrothed, he continued: "I wanted to be able to surprise you…with your wedding dress, when you awoke."

"I want to go."

Her grandmother started. "You want to what?"

Ane swiveled her head to face the shriveled old woman, her eyes as cold as lead and twice as heavy. "I want. To go. Back to my house."

Her grandmother's eyes narrowed, and she took a step towards Ane as though attempting to wrest whatever mutinous thought stood behind the simple request. The effort was wasted: Ane had blurted the phrase before and collaboration between tongue and brain could take place, an act deeply insulting to the latter. In fact, had her grandmother been capable of thought-stealing, all show would have found was an absent minded note to bind a bleeding hand. Before either woman could speak, the hunter picked up the basket. "Of course, love," he said, "how inconsiderate. Shouldn't she be able to bid her mother good-bye, Claire?"

The old woman's lip twitched, a fraction of a centimeter from a snarl. Despite her hostile expression, "Yes, naturally" managed to fight its way from behind her gritted teeth. Granted, her eyes shot poison arrows, but Ane was too tired and shaken to care; she held her wounded hand close, allowed the hunter to take the other, and with reeling mind and blood-soaked rose allowed herself to be led to her mother's house. All the way, the hunter chatted on about the wedding and the house and the children and all the wonderful things that they would do together. All they way, Ane stared straight ahead, searching for a coherent thought to follow.

No presence, benign or otherwise, followed her.