Thanks to everyone who has read this! I hope you continue to keep reading, because I'm excited about this story. This is a much shorter chapter than last time, but it's late, I'm tired, and it seemed as good as I place to cut off as any.


A chillingly fresh breeze whirled over the road, kicking along with it the loose green leaves of late summer. The sun was set midway in the sky, calmly observing the afternoon. One leaf, a sample from a scrubby maple, landed gently and ignored on a man's arm as he strolled past before slipping on the ground. He was an older gentleman, a blacksmith, clearly one that was enjoying the breeze. In some places throughout the land autumn was already showing first threats, though the season had been good and I could not imagine anyone complaining about a little more coolness in their days. I, at least, had no complaints. Weather didn't bother me. I tightened my hood and kept walking down the street. It was a small town, called Whiteberry, I believe, settled in the hills, and frankly there was not a plethora of citizens out and about. A few old women gossiping at a corner, holding baskets full of vegetables, and that blacksmith. I was not sure with who I would work.

I stopped near the women, unseen. Just gossip. Nothing cruel, just the passages of everyday life. Apparently Mrs. Wicker's cow had just calved—extremely late, but a blessing nonetheless. Wisteria and Jack were about to have another grandbaby. How happy. I wondered if their children lived nearby. A baby was always fun to see. I listened for a few moments, then continued on. I hoped their vegetables would taste especially delicious that night.

The blacksmith was whistling a tune now, something bright and jovial. Clearly Whiteberry was not a town known for tragedy. He stopped before a door—his shop, I assumed—fumbled for a key, and let himself in. I followed. I just wanted a peak at his business. Blacksmithing had always been something of a mystery to me. The room inside was dark, but held a certain cozy warmth around the oven and the anvil and all the other strange mysteries of that place. Still whistling, he grabbed a thick leather apron from the wall and tied it about himself. To prevent himself from getting burned. At least that was what I assumed. I hadn't become all that much smarter. If one didn't learn blacksmithing, one didn't know blacksmithing. I glanced around the shop. Everything seemed in order. Nothing dangerous.

It was rather silly putting myself to helping a blacksmith. Rather embarrassed, I slipped out.

The women were still chatting and laughing away at their corner. Two men had appeared, apparently partners. One clutched a box of bread loaves, the other a box of berries. Huckleberries, raspberries, strawberries… I couldn't see what else there was.

Ooh, berries. I had always had a weakness for berries. Nothing had changed that.

I appeared before them (off to the side, actually), smiling my broadest.

The bread salesman returned the smile warmly, as did the berry salesman. "Are you hungry, miss? Needing a loaf of bread for dinner?"

The truth was that I was mostly interested in the berries, but buying a loaf of bread couldn't hurt. "Yes, please. One loaf. And a half pound of mixed berries, sir." I nodded to his friend.

"An extra scoop of raspberries," the man said as he retrieved my order. "It's not everyday we have a customer as pretty as you."

Before I probably would have giggled like an idiotic little girl, but that was before. I smiled again and nodded graciously. "You flatter me."

"No, no, he means it," said the bread man. "Enjoy your meal."

I curtsied as they left. The old ladies at the corner and witnessed the entire incident and had now included it in their session. I blushed. How sweet of them. Now I was the topic of strangers' conversations! I laughed as I popped a strawberry into my mouth. It was delicious. Divine, even.

The main road led out of town, to a small moraine near a creek. I went there, eating berries the whole time. It must have been years since I had eaten berries. They were all but gone by the time I sat down on the largest rock overlooking the crick. The breeze was still holding its own and the slow-moving water ripped with each puff of air. I began to break the bread into tiny chunks and toss it toward the water. Thrushes dove from the trees to nip the bread crumbs from the surface before the miniature currents sucked them away. They were all so determined! I tossed them further, across the creek. Boy, but they sure could fly!

The sad thing was that I could probably entertain myself for hours this way. I hadn't much listened to those who had said I was much too attached to this world, but I suppose it was true. I had turned into a wanderer of sorts. Nothing terribly special, as plenty of others did the same thing. We just happened to like the earth. It had many beauties.

Like the rains of Tamenrook. I sighed as I watched a squirrel attack a few breadcrumbs. Tamenrook seemed so long ago. It had always been such a lovely kingdom in spite of its odd weather. I stood up from my rock. My sense of direction was terrible. Where would be home be in relation to here? Whiteberry, no where?

Eh, I was sure I would wander back there eventually. And I didn't need to wander. The Spirit World had all kinds of marvelous shortcuts and God was far from cruel. But did I truly need to go to Tamenrook immediately? I didn't think so. If so I would have been directed there. My family was in Tamenrook, but so was the body of Gavin Gray, buried unceremoniously in a pauper's grave.

Gavin Gray was the man who had stabbed me in the chest and slit my throat. He had been hung.

I did not shudder. Such things did not matter anymore. It was not the nature of heaven to dwell on such things.

Not that even angels had been rendered perfect.

I finished my berries. Berries were a weakness of mine, always had been. Fresh was always best, but then again there was absolutely nothing wrong with a berry pie or tart, or berries mixed with cream. Maybe there was somewhere I could find a dairy farmer. Or I could be good and ignore it. After all, I did not need to eat. I was still not sure if that was a curse or a blessing. I suppose it did not matter. I had choice, after all. Everyone had choice.

I'm sorry, but the nature of the Spirit World is surprisingly complex and therefore difficult to explain. Ethereally beautiful, heavenly, and yet so much like this earth that sometimes it was impossible to tell them apart. Perhaps that is what I liked best about it, and yet it did not explain why I wandered as I did. Perhaps, in many places, they were one and the same.

I was jerked from my thoughts by the sound of horses and wooden wheels clambering over a rocky trail. I turned around to see the cart appear, laden with an impressive collection of fabric. A wizened old man drove it, an equally wizened old woman at his side.

I laughed. How sweet.

"We're almost to Whiteberry," the old man called.

"Yes, Whiteberry!"

It took me a moment to realize they were not talking to each other. Disappointing. I had rather hoped they were two adorable-but-crazy old fools. There was always something charming about such folk. They might be able to weave cloth but they were out of their senses.

As the cart passed, I saw the other person, the one to whom they had been speaking. She rode at the back, nestled between two bolts of cloth, seeming quite comfortable. For some reason I could not help but stare at her. She was quite pretty, though sadly skinny. The hideous brown dress she wore seemed to drown her. But her face was good, lightly freckled and smiling. Her pale blonde hair was tucked underneath a faded kerchief, but more than some had escaped. There she was, a tiny little elf, riding among the fabric like a small child.

"I still can't believe you rode three hours to shop in Whiteberry!" the old woman called. "Sometimes I worry about you, Christine!"

The girl called Christine laughed. It was almost a cruel laugh, and definitely mischievous—though of course it was coming from a girl that would ride in the back of a cart. I walked closer to the road, unseen. This was getting potentially interesting. "I wouldn't normally, but Lady Melissa insisted upon this town."

Lady Melissa. Where had I heard that name before? Well, this was giving me something to do. I threw the rest of my bread to the squirrels and the birds and ran after the cart. Christine just sat in the back of that cart. Now she looked like royalty instead of the servant she was.

"Thank-you, Mr. Adams!" she called as the cart passed the first house. Wobbling, she stood up.

I gasped. The cart was still moving.

But she did not seem to mind. With only a mild wash of fear over her face, she leapt rather ungracefully to the ground. By which I mean she landed with a groan in a crumpled heap.

Oh, dear. I hurried over, hoping I wouldn't have to heal anything.

But she seemed fine. She picked herself up with a grimace, dusted herself off, and looked around.

The bread salesman was with a customer, but the berry man saw her.

"Hello," he said.

Christine did not curtsy, but waved. "Good day. Are these berries fresh? I am under orders to get them only as fresh as can be."

Good luck with that, if she lived three hours away.

"Very fresh, miss."

"I'll take four pounds."

"Very good, miss. And I shall give you an extra ounce for being such a lovely girl."

Flatterer. And to think I had thought myself the exception. But it seemed that Whiteberry was only beginning to show off its shoppers so perhaps the poor man was desperate.

"The price?" Christine asked.

"Two pieces of silver."

Christine pulled a bag from her pocket and shook out some coins. It would have been much easier to grab from it, the bag was big enough. In fact, during her relentless shaking a coin missed her hands completely, fell to the ground, and rolled to the other side of the street. "Oops. Clumsy me."

"Let me get that for you, miss."

"No, sir, I can grab it myself. It was my own fault." She pressed two pieces of silver into his hand as she pleaded.

He laughed. Such a good man. "I'm a gentleman, miss. I shall retrieve it." He tried to squat down with his box of berries, but it was much too cumbersome. He laughed again. "So it is harder than I expected. I had better be blessed for this. Watch this for me, miss." He set his box down, then went after the coin.

Then, as I watched, Christine, as fast as you please, pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, wrapped it around a huge handful of berries, and placed the whole wrapped crime in her pocket.