He watched intently the following morning as she checked his splinted arm and leg, loosening the bandages where need to accommodate swelling. He thought again that he hoped she knew what she was doing. She looked up at him abruptly.

"Will heal well. Do not worry"

It took a moment for her words to sink through his brain. The fact that he had understood her perfectly froze his mind for a few moments. He wished he could say that his Spanish was better than he had thought, but that wasn't it.

"Where did you learn to speak my language?"

She moved away from him slowly, her eyes suddenly frightened. Her suspicion was almost palpable in the closed environment of the cave. She moved to the fire, mixing the embers bring the flames back to life.

"You teach me" she said without looking up.

"I…..what?"

"I see your mind. I see your thoughts. I learn"

He studied her quietly, trying to get his head around what she had said, trying to work out if she was telling the truth. Telepathy? It seemed unlikely, but then she hadn't been able to speak any English the previous day. Or had she? Dajain and the people that lived to the north had spoken English well enough. Why not her?

"You think maybe I lie. Maybe I speak your language like people of north"

That was hardly proof, he thought, it must be obvious what he was thinking.

"Now you think, is obvious what you think"

He frowned. "Okay. What am I thinking now?"

He conjured up a picture of his cabin in the mountains. He pictured himself fishing off the dock, a cooler with beer sitting next to him.

Suddenly she was laughing.

"Why do you hunt fish, when there are none?"

He scowled at her and all her humor evaporated, her eyes again flashing with fear. She inched further away from him, her gaze returning to the fire.

___________________________________________________________

She stared into the fire, watching the flames lick at the dry timber she fed into the blaze. She had been careless, she had not meant for him to find out. She had meant to help him and send him away. But her eagerness to learn the language spoken by the people of the north had betrayed her. They were good people, those who occupied the mountain slopes. She had hoped that if she learnt their language…… she was tired of being alone.

Now she waited. Waited for the feelings of hate and fear that she knew she would feel rolling off of him in waves. The same feelings that had clouded her own mother's eyes all those years ago. But none came; she sensed his curiosity, but no hate, no fear. She glanced up at him, turning to look at him.

"You are not frightened?"

He chuckled, a musical sound that seemed out of place in her small cave.

"No. Should I be? I admit it worries me a bit that you can hear my thoughts, but it doesn't scare me"

She moved closer to him searching his face for signs that he was lying, searched his mind, digging deep, for signs of treachery.

She flinched when he grabbed her wrist breaking her contact with his mind.

"Don't look too deep" he growled "You won't like what you see"

She wrenched her hand from his grip, her eyes wide.

"You feel me search your mind?"

"Yeah and like I said, don't"

______________________________________________________

He watched her silently for a moment. Watching her, watching him. She had come close to slipping past his defenses and seeing the things he fought so hard to forget. She looked scared, her eyes wide.

"You feel me search your mind?" she asked again.

"Yeah" he answered, rubbing his left hand over his eyes. "Shouldn't I?"

He knew just be looking at her that maybe he shouldn't. Her face was white, and she gaped at him, searching for words.

"No" she answered quietly.

He looked up at her then and his mind filled with images, memories, her memories.

She huddled in her bed, hoping they wouldn't come, knowing that they would. She had hidden her gift since she was a little girl, knowing that different wasn't good, that being different would be punished. But she had made a mistake. She sobbed silently. They were coming.

Her training was nearly done; soon she would take her oath. She knew that one of the villages further south needed a healer and she knew that the elder's brutish son was looking for a wife, and on the day before taking her oath she knew that her father planned to marry her to him. She searched him out that evening, begging him not to send her away, not to make her marry him. Even as the words left her mouth she realized that it had been little more than an idea to her father, that he still had not decided that he still hadn't made the arrangements. She felt relief wash over her, surely Papa would listen to her, decide not to send her away. But his eyes narrowed as he looked at her, and she knew she had made a mistake. She could feel his thoughts now, each one louder than before.

What had his youngest daughter said?

How had she known what he was contemplating?

How had she known what he was thinking?

What was she?

Witch!

She had run then. Throwing herself onto her bed, hoping they wouldn't come, knowing that they would. She remembered when she was little how one of village women had been accused of being a witch, they had burned her. Now she could hear the word spreading through the village.

Witch! Witch! Witch!

And she knew that there was nothing the village liked more than a burning. This thought galvanized her into action, they were coming. She grabbed what little personal items she could and shoved them into an old leather bag, and swinging it over her shoulder she lowered herself quietly out of the window. She made her way through the shadows to the stables, moving quickly past her own pony; she wouldn't be fast enough, to her father's snow white stallion. The young animal nickered when he saw her, butting his head against her chest.

'Quiet' she thought 'Please be quiet'

He quieted, standing patiently as she threw a thick leather blanket over his back. Taking hold of the crude halter she led him silently from the building and slid through the shadows towards the forest. Then she saw her, a tall white haired women standing in the path.

"Mama" she called quietly "Mama I have to go. Papa…….."

But her beloved mother's eyes hardened and she felt a wave of hate hit her so hard it knocked her breath from her lungs.

"Witch!" her Mama screamed, pointing at her "Here she is. Witch! WITCH!"

Terror filled her then and with a long practiced leap she was sitting across Relam's broad white back urging him quickly into a gallop. Her Mama held fast in the middle of the path, blocking her escape. She felt when the stallion's broad chest collided with her, knocking her down and passing through as though she wasn't there. Her mother's scream of rage filled the night, and when she glanced over her shoulder she could see the angry crowd that had gathered. Relam's feet were sure and quick and soon the crowd was dropping behind and the forest enclosed them.

She rode all night, allowing the stallion to pick his own way through the branches and fallen logs. The moon was full, but even the mid day sun would have failed to break its way through the thick canopy, she was riding blind. But she trusted Relam to keep her safe; she could see his thoughts as clearly as those of her people. The young animal had tired long ago of her father's heavy hand on his mouth and leather clad feet on his side. He had no more reason to return than she.

"We find cave after two day. Winter nearly here. We stop and prepare for cold"

He saw flashes of images, memories from her first winter. Alone and frightened, she had nearly died when the first snows fell.

"How old were you?"

"I count sixteen winters"

He rubbed his hand over his eyes again, he had a headache. Sixteen? God how had she survived?

"How long have you been here?"

She considered for a moment and he could feel her counting off the winters she had spent here in her little cave.

1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8.

"Jesus"

She had moved back towards the fireplace and quickly returned with a cup, handing it to him, silent for a moment, letting him grasp the things she had said. Finally she spoke.

"No feel bad for me. I free"

And he knew that she was, she went where she wanted and when she wanted. She was vulnerable to the elements, but she made her own rules. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to live with that sort of freedom, that sort of peace. No deadlines, no mission reports, no life and death struggle every time he stepped through the 'gate. She laughed quietly and he wondered what was funny.

"You tired" she said when her laughter subsided "sleep"

His eyes felt suddenly heavy and he realized that he was tired. He relaxed back on the furs and instantly let the blackness close in around him.