Disclaimer: Sometimes I wonder if I even own the disclaimer, so obviously nothing else belongs to me either.

A/N: He who tells you that writing at two o'clock in the morning is a bad idea…hath lied. It breaks writer's block.

Chapter 4

Numair was happy for Daine. Really he was. At least there was one person in this horrible town who was willing to accept his former student after what had happened, which was one more person than they had any reason to expect.

However, that one person had made it clear that he was not currently welcome in the kitchen, and thus had dashed his last hopes of eating a somewhat civilized meal. Unless by some miracle he was able to find someone to prepare his dinner for him, he was on his own. Due to his dislike of these people and unfamiliarity with this town, the chances of this happening were extremely slim.

He weighed his options. Someone had to be selling something edible, hadn't they? After all, this was an agrarian community whether or not it was winter. At the very least there would be bread, and if not—in winter months, most families were more than happy for a way to earn a little extra money.

Besides this, he wanted to get a better idea of what the setting for his beloved's childhood had been. Despite the bad memories it carried with it, he felt that it was important to get a feeling for the place—and thus far, all he had really seen was the inside of the inn.

The fact that he desperately needed a bit of fresh air concluded his internal debate, and pleased at coming to a decision he made his way to the door.

Snowsdale was a very small town—more like a village, really—but just as Numair had predicted, there was a very small market. It was barely even this; all it consisted of was a few small booths lined up along the street, and most of these were closed. However, there were still a few small stalls open, the most notable of which seeming to be carrying rolls, bread, and pastries. The goods of this stall smelled so wonderful that his feet were moving before he had made a conscious decision.

As the mage made his purchase of rolls stuffed with cheese and bits of meat, he realized exactly how famished he was. He had hardly eaten a meal since he had brought Daine here last night, and as if to remind him of this fact his stomach rumbled while he handed his coins to the vendor.

It seemed as though Bayard had not spread the news of his and his companion's identities quite yet, because of the good treatment he received from the owner of the stall. Still, he decided that it would be best to play it safe and eat his meal somewhere where he would not disturb or be disturbed by the residents of this town. Although his first choice would be to get out of the town entirely, this was not an option, so his second choice would have to make do. Thus the lunch hour found him perched on the fence of a communal stockyard, safe in the company of cattle.

Or not.

A pair of large brown eyes was gazing up at him, and they were most certainly human. Granted, small children generally weren't classified as dangerous, so he was only marginally startled when he noticed the boy's presence.

"Hello," he began with a warm smile. "Is this your fence? I'd be more than happy to move if that's the case."

The boy looked surprised that he was being addressed as an equal, and turned bashful, scuffing at the dirt and avoiding from Numair's gaze as children are prone to do.

Numair loved children. He knew that the idea of such a powerful mage and scholar cavorting with toddlers and the like was probably a humorous image, but then again few people had probably pictured the King's Champion as a doting mother either. Children were innocent; none of the lies and self-deceptions of adults. Children were uncorrupted by the rules of society. And they were absolutely adorable.

As he began to attempt to win this boy's affections, he also started to wonder idly what kind of mother Daine would make. He knew that he wanted children, but if she didn't… Of course, the dragonet they nicknamed Kitten (who had opted to stay in Corus for the duration of this trip for reasons that had yet to become clear) was like a child to them already, but he wanted some of their own.

The mage bit back a frown as he picked up the three remaining rolls from his lunch as convenient objects to juggle. It wasn't his place to be thinking of children just yet. Even after nine years of being technically engaged, his sweetheart had yet to take the idea of marriage seriously. It was enough to make him wonder if she ever would, and just the thought of never having that with her caused his heart to sink.

He forced himself to concentrate on the laughing child before him rather than such melancholy thoughts. He had quickly overcome the initial shyness and was now eliciting uninhibited giggles in return for his antics. He grinned as he caught the three rolls and bowed as elegantly as was possible from his seat.

The sound of delighted clapping caused him to look up sharply. Numair cursed himself for not being aware that he had not noticed anyone else's presence; he had found that thinking of Daine often made him oblivious to much else, and this was obviously the case now.

He was relieved to see that his unnoticed audience only consisted of one highly amused young woman, who did not appear threatening in the slightest. She was shorter than Daine and gently curved, with long, dirty-blonde hair—altogether not an unpleasant sight, and one that he would have found highly attractive had he not been so in love with another woman. He relaxed somewhat, although keeping in mind that appearances could be deceiving remained somewhat wary. He smiled winsomely at her and got to his feet, bowing once again.

"My apologies, madam," he declared eloquently. "I was unaware that I had such a charming audience. Numair Salmalin, at your service."

The woman laughed at this. "By all means, don't stop for me. Not lots of people can get over Arron's shyness so quick. You got to have a lot of talent to make him like you so much."

"A man may only hope," was the reply. Numair considered this woman carefully; she seemed friendly enough, but that was hardly anything to judge by. He would have to watch himself very carefully; she was certainly old enough to have known Daine, and he didn't want to know what her reaction would be should she find out who his companion was.

"But tell me, what can the name of such a pleasant young woman be?" he inquired, consciously laying the compliments on thickly. He was well aware that the best way to leave a good impression was through the constant use of flattery, and it was a strategy that had served him well in the past.

"You can call me Mandaly," she instructed him, entering the pasture and making her way to the boy that she had called Arron. To the child, she added, "Come along, little nephew. Your mother got lunch waiting."

Gracefully, Mandaly scooped up the boy and seated him on her hip. She took a few steps away before pausing and turning to Numair again.

"If you got nowheres else to go, Master Numair, I bet my sister wouldn't mind someone Arron likes so much joinin' us," she invited with a coy smile. Numair weighed his options carefully. He wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to agree, but he had to leave a good impression on these people for Daine's sake, and turning her down would be seen as terribly rude.

"I would be delighted," Numair lied smilingly, "to join you and your sister's family."