"We're lost," Elsa said unhappily. "Just how long was I out, anyway?"

"More than a day," Hiksti said. "I was frantically worried."

She gently probed the still-tender lump on the back of her head and nodded thoughtfully. "Then they must have taken us either north or east."

"Right," he agreed. "If we'd gone south we'd be in the mountains by now, and if we'd gone west we'd be close to the sea."

"So we head south-west," she proposed.

"Hm," he considered, tilting his head to one side. "That sounds good. But the very first farm or village we come across, we're getting a dog."

"A… dog?" Elsa asked, blinking.

"They're a great alarm system," he explained. "It'll let us sleep better at night."

"Then maybe we should get two dogs," she said.

"Then we'd have to feed two dogs," he countered.

"...right."

They found a little farm later that afternoon, and approached warily. The farmer was out in his turnip field and crossed it to meet them, doffing his hat to fan himself as he approached. "Hello, strangers," he said, stopping a respectful distance away. "Are you lost?"

"Actually, yeah," Hiksti said. He dismounted. "My wife and I got waylaid by bandits a couple of days ago. Somehow we managed to escape, and now we can't seem to figure out where we are, any more."

"Bandits?" the farmer said, his eyes going wide. "Helmut's Hellions, you mean?"

"Yeah, those are the ones," Hiksti said.

"It's a miracle you're alive," the farmer said, looking between them, worry etched into his face and deepening his crow's feet. "Helmut is notorious for taking no prisoners." He lifted a sorrowful gaze to Elsa, then dropped his eyes as if avoiding something painful. "He… has an eye for the ladies, it's said."

Hiksti's fist clenched. "He hasn't got any eyes at all, any more," he told the farmer quietly. "Nor will any of his men be looking for him."

The farmer gaped at him, and he took a step back, really taking in the weapons at Hiksti's side and the bandage on his arm. "If that's true, stranger, then we all owe you a debt of gratitude. Helmut has been terrorizing the countryside in these parts for three years, now."

It was Elsa's turn to be surprised. "Three years?" she asked. "Why hasn't the king done something about it?"

The farmer shrugged, still not meeting her eyes. "I couldn't answer as to that, Missus," he said. "Having never met the king." He suddenly started. "But where are my manners? Come to my house," he said, gesturing to the little cottage set in the hillside not far away. "My wife will get us all some tea."

The tea was truly excellent, though it was the only thing in the little cottage that was. Everything had a worn, well-loved quality. The farmer's name was Penn and he introduced them to his wife, Otylia, a woman with crow's feet as deep as her husband's. Hiksti and Elsa introduced themselves, as well. Otylia had a warm, matronly smile and she fussed over Elsa, making her as comfortable as possible. "My, my, visitors," she said, setting out the milk for them. "What a breath of fresh air!"

"Otylia," said Penn. "Young Hiksti here says that they were captured by Helmut and then escaped. He says that Helmut's Hellions won't be a problem, any more."

"Oh, really?" she asked, taken aback by the news. "How… exciting." She didn't look particularly convinced. "And… how did this come about?"

Elsa and Hiksti exchanged a look, and then Hiksti just decided to hedge the truth. He was really very smooth about it. "I used my metal foot to break out of our cage," he said. "And we snuck out in the middle of the night. I set fire to their cave and no one ran out again."

"They didn't try to stop you?" Penn asked.

"They were drunk," Hiksti lied. "Even the guards. Someone's birthday, I think."

Otylia looked impressed. "Well, you are very lucky, then, the pair of you. It could have been so much worse…" she tutted and patted Elsa's hands sympathetically. "I'm sorry for anything you had to endure."

Elsa tried not to let revulsion show on her face at the memory of Helmut's hand spreading across her belly, of his hot breath on her neck. She looked away and bashfully drew her hands away from Otylia's fussing.

"But where are you headed?" Penn asked them.

"The Southern Mountains," Elsa told them. "To visit some family there."

"It's been way too long since I've seen them," Hiksti said. "They probably won't even recognize me."

"Nonsense," Otylia said stoutly. "Family always remembers."

"The Southern Mountains are nearly four days from here," Penn said thoughtfully. "Here, let me draw you a map." He fetched a piece of vellum and a charcoal stick and sketched a crude map as he spoke. "We are just north of this river, here. Follow its course westward until you get to the King's Road. From there turn south for the mountains. Stay on the road and take shelter at inns. Even if Helmut died… he doesn't always keep all of his men with him. I'd be surprised if every last one perished in that fire. If you're truly the cause of their demise, though… I'd watch your back, if I were you."

"I'll sleep with one eye open," Hiksti promised. "Or hey, do you have any dogs we can buy?"

"We just have our sheepdog," Penn said. "He's getting on in years and wouldn't take to a new owner."

"Yes, but Reginald and Mathilde's bitch just whelped half a year ago or so," Otylia said. "And I know that they've got two puppies they haven't found new owners for." She tapped the map. "They live just between us and the river, very convenient for you."

"Thank you," Hiksti said, his tone grateful. "We should be going, then, if we're to get the dog."

"Ah, but you should take some bread with you," Otylia said, jumping up from her chair.

"No, thank you," Elsa said. "We have enough food already." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hiksti sneak a few gold coins into a napkin and set that down on the table for the farmers to discover later. Her heart warmed.

"Are you sure?" Otylia asked.

"Oh, let them go, woman," Penn said. "They'll have to hurry if they want to make it to Reginald's farm and then on to the nearest inn by nightfall."

"Very well," Otylia said as Hiksti and Elsa rose and made for the door. "It was very nice meeting you."

"It was very nice to meet you, as well," Elsa said.

"Thank you for your help. And the tea!" Hiksti told them with a smile.

He and Elsa mounted their horses and made good time to the farm in question. They stopped just outside the gate enclosing the wide yard. It seemed that Reginald and Mathilde were better off than Penn and Otylia.

Mathilde opened the door and four black-and-white herding dogs shot toward them, stopping short at the gate to Mathilde's sharp whistle. "Hello," she said, resting her hands in the pockets of her apron. "Can I help you?"

"We've just come from Penn and Otylia's farm," Hiksti said. "We're passing through and they mentioned that you have a puppy you'd like to sell."

"Ah, yes," she said, coming closer to them and beaming. "I have a male or a female. Seven months old, nearly full grown." She pointed them out. "Well-trained already. I'll teach you their call whistles after you pay me."

"How much?" Hiksti asked. He dismounted from his horse and knelt close to the dogs, who regarded him with guarded curiosity. Carefully he extended a hand to let them sniff. He observed their body language very closely, and then pointed to the male. "This one," he said. "How much?"

"Ah, him," said Mathilde. "A very good choice." She named a price.

Even Elsa, who didn't really have any experience with living on a limited budget, thought that the price was exorbitant.

Hiksti laughed in her face. "Sorry, I thought you were serious," he told her. "We'll just be going, now."

"Oh, fine," Mathilde said. "I can see that you have a pretty wife to protect. I will lower the price." And they went back and forth, haggling down to the last copper, until finally both of them seemed pleased. Hiksti handed over the coins and Mathilde taught them the dog's call whistle, and the basic commands. "He'll respond to whistles or words," she said proudly. "You couldn't ask for a better companion."

"Does he have a name?" asked Elsa.

"Just the whistle," Mathilde said. "Name him what you want, he's yours, now."

Hiksti tied a rope around the dog's neck and handed her the other end. Then her husband gathered the dog in his arms and carefully handed him up to Elsa, who balanced him on her lap. "Start feeding him bits of that rabbit," he advised her. "Speak softly and pet him, especially behind the ears. He'll understand he's ours soon enough." Then he swung himself into the saddle and they made their way southward to the river.

They made the inn just as night was falling, and Elsa was grateful for four walls and a bed and the arms of her husband. "Have you thought of a name?" he asked her, snuggling close.

"Lif," Elsa said. She looked at Hiksti a bit bashfully.

"Protection?" Hiksti asked, saying the meaning of the name.

"I'm not really good at naming stuff," she admitted.

"No, Lif is a great name," he protested. "Here, Lif," he said, patting the mattress.

Lif stared at Hiksti for a moment before hopping onto the bed. Hiksti whistled and Lif lay down obediently. "Good boy, Lif," he crooned.

Elsa grinned at him. "If I'd known you like dogs so much I'd have gotten you one months ago."

He chuckled into her hair and kissed her forehead. "Sleep, wife," he said.

"Or… you could tell Lif to get down and we'll sleep in a little while," she suggested, walking her fingers up his arm, then slowly caressing his jaw.

The whistle rang through the room and Lif leaped right off the mattress to find himself a corner to curl up in.