It's freezing out!

Arabella clutched a woolen shawl tighter about her shoulders as she crept out of her grandmothers' tent with a blanket tucked under one arm. It wasn't easy to shield herself against the chill of the morning, especially with thick layers of dew covering the ground under her bare feet, soaking into the hemline of her skirt. She could barely be certain of her grip on the blanket under her arm, considering she used the same hand to clutch at her shawl. The other hand was much too preoccupied balancing a basket of medicines and other precious supplies that couldn't be allowed to fall.

If she was caught because of another bumbling mistake…

In spite of her good intentions, Arabella hesitated when the large freak show tent came into view. Its crimson canvas stood out among the other more modest dwellings and businesses, especially since it was a place meant for showmanship and stood high above many others. The others who still called that tent their home would not bother her for visiting – she'd been as kind to them as she could be, just as she was now trying to be kind to the new addition… to Erik.

She had to keep reminding herself he had a name. It would be far too easy to make him just another needy face in the crowd of sideshow 'monsters' that were brought in constantly. Some made little money and were released. Others, who were far more capable of taking care of themselves, were never forced to remain and were simply allowed to stay on as performers as long as they shared in their earnings. Those came and went as regularly as the unprofitable prisoners. It could be so easy to lose track of how many, of each separate personality or name. Even those Arabella had already known for years made it difficult got get something as precious as a true name.

It was possible Erik hadn't been thinking clearly enough to lie to her, or maybe he even had… but it would be so cruel to merely discount his identity. It was the one thing she never wanted taken from any human being. God knew that without her names (for gypsies had three, only two of which the gypsy themselves ever knew about, the third traditionally known only by their mothers), Arabella would feel robbed of all worth… more than she already felt.

With the shadow of the tent falling over her, Arabella paused and considered what she was about to do. For any other person in the past, she would not have hesitated so much to help further. But… none other had ever physically lashed out at her and harmed her. It was quite possible the boy would blame her for his return, although surely he knew she'd been unconscious during his recapture. He hadn't been playing games when he knocked her out. He'd meant to make sure she was completely unable to follow or sound an alarm.

But just recalling his eyes… and the sound of his voice… the pain…

Arabella took a deep breath and stepped into the tent. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she walked on regardless. No one would be in her path, as it was always kept cleared even if anyone chose to sleep in the front segment. All she worried about was someone watching over the cage in back. If it was Adnah, she might not be in so much trouble… he had been kind enough to bring her to her grandmothers' rather than her fathers after all. Anyone else, though… and not one of them would hesitate to thrash her. They were a violent bunch, her father, and Adnah's family.

To her great relief, there was no sign of another in the back. There was merely the single cage barely large enough to cage a small wild cat, and nothing at all around it which made plenty of room for the crowds that would swarm in to stare. Her eyes adjusted to the black and red hues of the canvas room, the early white-yellow sunshine outside bright enough to make the space inside seem almost hazy as the color from the tent melted through the air and cast the strangest shadows… Erik was in the tent, not even laying down or curled up with cold as she'd expected. Yes, he was huddled…

But he sat up in one corner, leaning heavily on the bars with one hand wrapped around a strip of iron so tightly that the knuckles were a visible white even in the relative dimness of the tent. In a ravaged face made all the more pitiful for the cuts and bruises further marring it, his liquid-golden eyes stood out even more starkly.

It was like being gazed at by an owl. You could never trust the stare of an owl. It might seem curious or impassive… but it could always be preparing to take flight and lash out at you with its talons.

She now knew that Erik's steady stare was much the same. She couldn't trust it. Still, she steadied herself against a stare that commanded she turn and run, and strode purposefully towards the cage.

"Bonjour." She murmured, forcing cheeriness and confidence into her voice as she knelt across the bars from him and placed down her burdens. Immediately, she held out the blanket under her arm. It wasn't good for very much, barely good enough for a horse, but at least it was better than nothing at all. "Here… this will help keep off the damp…"

Erik continued staring at her, having barely backed his face away from the bars at her approach. He made no move whatsoever to accept her offering.

"I know it isn't much." She admitted, trying again for pleasantness when she knew he couldn't understand her. "But it's something, at least. At worst, you could use it for a pillow."

His eyes flickered down to the bundled blanket disdainfully, and shifted to one side away from her, while not backing from the bars. His clenched hand shifted from one bar to another, and his other hand came up so that the two fists framed his ravaged face. He bared his teeth further at her with an odd little snarl.

With a sigh, Arabella shook her head and began to resolutely push the blanket through the bars near him, just careful that she wouldn't be so close as to truly alarm him. Then, looking up at him again, she picked up her basket and uncovered the contents of warm biscuits, a little cheese, and a flagon of wine. She hadn't been able to find anything else, and someone would have seen her going off to the nearby river for water.

Erik's nostrils flared, and she could see his pupils' contract slightly as he took in the food hungrily. Still, he was tense with distrust. His head turned slightly so that he might give her an even more Raptor-like glare as if he didn't believe she intended to give him so much as a crumb of the things she displayed.

"Oh, for heaven's sake." She grumbled, picking up a biscuit and taking one bite before offering it to him, keeping her arm perfectly straight in his direction. She had a feeling it wouldn't be wise to bring her body too close to his if it was avoidable. "You don't have to trust me. I'm not about to poison myself."

When he made no move to accept her offering, she gave it a small push and released it into the bottom of his now somewhat clean cage. No one had put fresh straw down before throwing him back into it, so she knew the floor had to have been unbearably uncomfortable. It didn't matter. Erik cringed away from the biscuit slightly, but lunged after it again almost immediately – his will to survive far stronger than any mistrust.

He was on his last bite when she opened the flagon of wine and took a long sip, careful to be certain he was again watching her. It wasn't difficult, as he didn't take his eyes off her even to snatch up his meager food. As she offered the wine to him, she nudged the basket of still warm and slightly steaming biscuits closer to the cage so that all he needed to do was reach out and take them. This time, he didn't hesitate nearly as long. He reached out and seized the wine, bringing it to his lips like a man dying of thirst.

For the first time, he closed his eyes, enjoying how the liquid burned his throat and belly, spreading heat throughout his no doubt half-froze body. She wondered if he understood just how lucky he was to have been captured and set in a cage during the spring rather than a winter month. She settled back onto the heels of her feet and watched him with a satisfied smile.

"You see?" she asked when he dropped the flagon from his lips and wiped at his chin with the back of one hand. He was already reaching for another biscuit without her invitation, making her smile broaden. "I only want to… aide… vous…"

She spoke the French more cautiously this time, although his unexpected ghost of a smile told her she must have gotten the words rights – if not the grammar.

"…Merci… mademoiselle Belle."

She squinted at him, trying not to show her astonishment at his politeness – or the stark beauty of his voice. Did everyone who heard that voice want it to continue endlessly? And he'd spoken so softly, it was barely more than a figment of her imagination! Still… she wasn't well versed in French, so was unaware of the teasing compliment he'd just paid. She'd no idea how rare such an abrupt change in manner would be for him from that day forward…

"It's Bella." She reminded him, putting extra emphasis on the short at the end of the nickname.

Erik turned away from her to continue eating his now lapful of biscuits, pulling the blanket around his shoulders and swigging still greedily at the wine flagon. It was clear he wasn't thinking to offer any back to her, and she couldn't blame him… although she'd only left enough back at her grandmothers' tent for Tsifia to eat. Ah, well… she would no doubt have far more opportunity to eat a great deal of food soon. God only knew when Erik would have that same luxury again… although she would try like hell to bring him whatever she could whenever possible.

She couldn't tell in the red-and-black light and shadow of the tent that his face had managed to gain a little color, a vague flush of embarrassment as he realized what he'd just said to her.

"Erik…" she said after several long minutes of silence that wasn't quite uneasy. He looked over his shoulder at her in mild irritation, but more curiosity. "I need that back…"

She pointed to the flagon. Then, as he reluctantly finished it and pushed it back to her, she pulled yet another item from the basket. This earned another spin as he stared straight at her in renewed distrust. She repressed a sigh of exasperation at the action and simply concentrated on opening the tiny jar, laying out several long bandages and spreading the poultice over them.

"It's medicine to help you heal." She explained, and lifted up a pleasant-smelling strip of thick cloth to him. She didn't even know how to begin explaining it to him, but he seemed to take in the smell. If he'd had eyebrows, she was certain they would have lifted in some amount of understanding. He reached out through the bars cautiously to take it, but she shook her head adamantly. "I have to do it. You can't possibly put them onto your wounds without making a God-awful mess of it."

His eyes narrowed, but she refused to budge, not even changing expression as she waited. When it became clear he still wasn't completely certain what she wanted, she struggled for the correct words, and motioned over her shoulder to her back.

"Por …" she hoped she had that word correct! "… por derriere…"

His explosive laughter made heat rush up into her face, and she lowered her gaze to the medicine she held out. Erik leaned forward and almost seemed ready to touch her hand… but he hesitated at the last instant and drew back.

"Derriere…" he laughed, pointing to his rear end. Then, he reached over one shoulder as far as he could. "Dos."

The heat in her face intensified, but she held out the cloth again.

"Pour dos…" she whispered. "Please… let me help you. Aide… vous…"

Erik stared at her and endless moment and she finally began to fidget. She wasn't nervous about him now, though, as she kept glancing over her shoulder towards the flap entrance of the tent. She could hear a great deal of commotion beginning to grow outside. People were waking up. Soon, someone would be in here to check on Erik, and all the others. They couldn't see her helping Erik, even if the evidence was going to be in his better health and the bandages covering his back. To be accused of it and chastised was far different than being chased off and perhaps even beaten.

Erik glanced over her shoulder as she eyed him intently, seeming to catch on to her sense of agitation. Then, with a decisive nod, he turned and scooted himself as close to the bars as possible. He knocked his hands onto his ankles as though to prove he would cause her no harm this time.

She made quick work of the bandages, wincing every time he hissed or flinched in pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry…" she repeated over and over. But, when she was done, she quickly reached through the bars and plucked at the small blanket she'd given him. He obediently draped it over the bandages, and she stood to back away. "I'll try and come again later!"

There was too much noise coming from the front of the tent. Others were close by. So, as Erik had done to escape the night before, she crawled out from underneath the canvas in his back room, and hurried away. She didn't even look to see his reaction to her kindness or abrupt departure.

She didn't see him staring at her with new understanding and respect.

Pour: French – For

Dos: French – back

Derrier: French – butt

Aide: Aide – assist – help

Vous: You

Merci: Thank you