Sorry it's been a while since I've updated. This story hasn't been my writing priority lately, but I will finish it, sooner or later. Thank you, everyone who has reviewed so far!

"Stay here," said Tasha.

"But—"

"No sense in both of us getting killed." Tasha dashed out past the trees, bullets zinging past.

Jason was moving, struggling to get back to his feet. Tasha pressed her fingers to the driver's pulse, but he was already gone. She supported Jason, his arm across her shoulders, and they made it to the trees. "Here," said Jason. "Take my gun. Or camera." He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace of pain. Tasha took the camera-gun, and Elena took charge of Jason. Tasha shot at the non-injured soldier, hitting him in the side. She ran after Elena and Jason, and they tore through the woods until they could no longer hear gunshots.

Tasha searched around for a place to hide. They slid down the embankment near a stream and hid beneath overhanging roots. Tasha bound Jason's leg with a strip of cloth from her jacket, and they covered themselves partially with leaves, and waited for sundown.

Jason woke, shivering. Chills flashed over his skin, and the next minute he felt like he was on fire. His lower leg throbbed as if a shard of glass was embedded in it. "T-tasha—"

"I'm here."

"I don't feel so good."

She touched his forehead with the back of her hand. "You're burning up. Elena, you don't happen to have a water bottle on you, do you?"

Elena shook her head. In the dim light her golden hair seemed to glow silver. His fever was probably distorting things, warping reality to fit his feverish mind….

"It's too bad we weren't able to bring any of our supplies," said Tasha.

"Except the camera," said Jason. "And I think I have a pen knife in here somewhere—" He fumbled for the pocket of his shirt; his hand was shaking. "Or else I lost it…"

"That's all right," said Tasha. "We'd probably be dead if you hadn't taken the camera-gun out. When did you have time to get it, by the way?"

"Just after the truck stopped. I figured we'd need it."

"Good thinking." Her eyebrow arched. "We need to get you somewhere warm, get some fluids in you." She looked at Elena. "Would you happen to know anyone around here?"

Elena shook her head. "I'm not even certain where we are. We ran so far…"

"Well, maybe there's an abandoned cabin near here. Can you stand, Jason?"

Jason struggled onto his knees; Tasha helped him onto his feet. The world spun. "I think so…." Then he took a step, and his leg stabbed him; Tasha caught him before he could fall to the ground.

"Maybe this isn't a good idea," said Tasha. "You and Elena stay here. I'll take a look around, see if there's some shelter."

"Do you think we should separate?" said Elena, standing on the edge of the bank.

"Don't worry. I'll find my way back." Tasha left, weaving around trees, until she disappeared into the darkness.

Elena helped Jason back under the overhang. She took off her outer jacket and laid it over him.

"You don't have to do that."

"Yes, I do." She tore a strip off of the jacket, and dipped it in the stream. Then she laid it across Jason's forehead. The water was ice cold; he flinched, and shivered even more. "We've got to keep your fever down." She curled up next to him in the leaves; she was shivering too.

He pushed himself into a sitting position. Took the jacket and gave it back to her. "Please, don't sacrifice for me."

"It's only my fault that we…" She sobbed; a tear slipped down her cheek. "My fault that we were captured."

"What?"

"The soldier heard me. That's how he found us."

"No one can be expected to take something like that—"

"Tasha did."

"Well, Tasha is…Tasha."

Elena touched her cheek near the knife slash, and turned away. Jason took her arm. "Listen, it's not your fault. Don't blame yourself, Elena." Her eyes were large and luminous in the dark, shimmering with unshed tears. He touched her face near the wound; her skin was smooth as silk. His eyes fell to her lips; longing seized him to kiss her—how wonderful her lips would taste, how delicate against his own—Her eyes looked up at him, her hair, no longer prim and proper, but tumbling about her shoulders—he was drawn closer—closer, as if by the most powerful magnet on earth.

Using all his strength, he pulled away, and lay back down, shivering. In a moment, all other feelings receded as all his attention was focused on fighting the overwhelming waves of nausea.

Elena stroked his hair back from his face, and put her jacket back over him. He was too weak to protest this time. She hummed a song; the sound thrummed into his soul, giving him peace, lulling him to sleep.

Strange dreams shook him. A man who looked like his father had taken Von Warberg's place on the balcony, and was preaching peace and love and harmony. A man in the crowd, distorted, bent over, pointed at the man and yelled, "He is not one of us!" Suddenly Jason was the one standing on the balcony and the bent man grew smaller and smaller as the crowd yelled, pointed, screamed, "He is guilty! Death! Death! Death!"

Jason jerked awake, gasping for breath. His leg throbbed with a dull ache; it felt three times its normal size. The rest of his body felt like a block of ice. He couldn't see Elena. Had they captured her? He scrambled to his knees, and crawled up the embankment. There stood Elena and Tasha with a strange man. Jason stood and tried to walk but he stumbled and fell, his face falling in the dirt and leaves.

A low chuckle. "He won't get far that way," said a voice with a strong accent. Not quite the Muldavian accent Jason was used to—more like the tenants in the apartment on Arazonda Street.

Strong arms turned him over, propped him up against a tree. A face looked at him; weather-beaten, with shaggy hair, but a kindliness about it that eased Jason's fears.

"Jason," said Tasha, standing beside him, "this is Nikola. His people are camped nearby. He's going to talk to their leader, to see if they'll help us."

Nikola took Jason by one arm, Tasha by the other, and lifted him up. He tried to stand, but the world was spinning so much that it looked like it was tipping sideways and he was about to slide off the edge. The woods whirled by, branches grabbing, scraping at him like hands.

They were coming for him—going to drag him down into the crowd and rip him apart—

"No!" he yelled.

A hand clamped over his mouth. "Sh," said Tasha. Her face swam into his vision, backlit by fire. Smoke hung in the air, like gunpowder. Flames danced in his eyes as he felt himself lowered to the ground, sticks and pine needles pricking into his back. He writhed away from them as if they were knives. Tasha and the man disappeared; Elena stroked his forehead, kissed his feverish cheek. He calmed down again, until curious faces jumped toward him, jumbled and swirled in his vision. Laughter echoed into the night like the howls of wolves.

Then just one face lingered, a little girl who sat in front of him, cross-legged. She spoke in a strange language, and brushed her fingers against his forehead.

Two men appeared, lifted him up. He struggled against their strength, until their faces merged with dreams.

Jason thrashed awake. The dreams dissolved into daylight, frigid blue of early morning filtering through the checkered blue curtains on the windows. Cold met his exposed skin; he pulled the blankets back over himself, and realized he wasn't wearing his own clothes. A loose, patterned blue shirt and leathery pants.

Where am I? he wondered. He flipped over onto his stomach, and looked out the window near his head. Outside sat a circle of about fifteen trailers and trucks in a clearing between scrubby birch and poplar trees. Inside the circle, several fires burned, women working over them; children helped, or ran to and fro playing.

Tasha stood on the far end, speaking with the man who had found him, Nikola. In a moment another man joined them.

Jason felt like staying under the covers, but he needed to talk to Tasha. Find Elena. And eat. He was starving.

He climbed out of bed, but his head whirled, and the gunshot wound in his leg awakened with a vengeance. He gasped, reaching down to clutch his leg. As the pain subsided, he unrolled the bottom of the pant leg, peeled it back to reveal an inflamed patch near his ankle. And the hole where the bullet had gone through.

Using the side of the bed, the table, and the couch along the wall to support himself, he made his way across the room to the door. And opened it.

Crisp cool air hit him. A tall young woman looked up from her fire in front of the trailer, and smiled at him, deep brown eyes shining with curiosity.

"Hi," he said.

She just laughed, and tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. She bent over the pot, stirring it; her shirt stretched tight over her stomach, showing how far along she was. A little girl jumped out of the next trailer down, then a little boy toddled out, the girl pulling him along behind her. She stood and looked at him with large, earnest brown eyes. The little boy broke away from her and walked over to his mother; the girl said, "I'm Zara. What's your name?"

"I already told you his name," said the young woman.

"I forgot it," said Zara. "Is it James?"

Jason shook his head. "I'm Jason." He held out his hand.

Zara tipped her head, pursed her lips, and put her hands behind her back. "Mama says I am not supposed to touch gadze."

The young woman looked apologetically at Jason. "It means stranger, outsider. It's true, they are usually more trouble than they are worth." She stopped stirring. "I am Marija. You are living in our trailer."

"I'm sorry."

"We volunteered. Of course, no one else would do it…But we have my parents to live with." She pointed her spoon at the next trailer down. "They don't mind—for the time being." She shot a meaningful look at Jason; not hostile, just making it clear that there was a point where he would outstay his welcome.

Jason stepped down onto the front step of the trailer, which was a bad idea, for he stumbled, his leg shocking him with pain. Only by the thinnest of margins was he able to stay on his feet. He gripped the side of the trailer, standing without putting his injured foot on the ground.

Tasha came up to him with Nikola. "Are you all right?" she said.

"Yeah," Jason managed.

"Maybe you should get back in and lay down."

"Nonsense!" said Nikola. "The fresh air will do him good. He's been stuffed in there for three days already."

"Three days?"

"That's how long you were out," said Tasha. "Feverish, delirious, shouting in your sleep—for a while there, we weren't sure you'd pull through." Pain haunted her eyes; he had a hint of the vigil she'd endured.

"You disturbed the whole camp," said Nikola. "But then, you did just by coming here. Had a hard time convincing Rovann to keep you here. Good thing we did—that bullet needed to come out."

"So it was still in-?"

Nikola nodded. "After I took it out, I cauterized the wound. Then your fever started to go down. You don't remember any of this?"

Jason shook his head, suddenly feeling light-headed.

"Just as well. You were pretty far under, but if you felt it—well, we just had to take that chance."

"Thank you—for all you've done."

Nikola cleared his throat. "It was the right thing to do.

"Would you like to come next door and have some breakfast?"

"Sounds wonderful. Where's Elena?"

"She's inside, helping my wife."

"Oh." Jason's heart skipped a beat when he thought of seeing her.

Tasha helped him into Nikola's trailer; his daughter stepped in too, and little grandchildren scurried in after her. They all piled around the table in the middle of the trailer; Elena and Nikola's wife Sofia served them generous portions of eggs and thin, crisp pancakes with foamy insides, brushed with butter and smothered with wild strawberry and blueberry jam.

Jason could only eat one egg and pancake, but he felt much better, especially after drinking a draught of cold, clear water.

After she finished serving, Elena sat down, tucked herself in between him and little Zara on the edge of the couch. The green Gypsy dress that Elena wore made her eyes more vivid and intense, like the deep blue of a mountain lake.

"Thank you for all of this," said Tasha. "Thank you for taking us in."

"It's no trouble at all," said Nikola.

Jason hoped that was true; he had caused enough trouble for everyone. He was grateful beyond words for the generosity of these people who had taken him in, and didn't want to hurt them in any way.

"Although our people believe that the more time we spend with the gadze—outsiders—the more unbalanced we become, and the more we will have to cleanse ourselves once you are gone. I am not certain that you always bring bad fortune, though it seems to be true more often than not." He raised one finger in the air. "There was one time when we had someone here who looked like you, Jason."

"Someone who looked like me?"

"Not exactly, but similar. He is part of the reason we took you in, because he turned out to be good for us, and I persuaded Rovann that you might be as well. Considering who James was, he should have made trouble, but he left before that could happen. After he left, it was as if our protection had gone with him. We had to run from patrols more often, and some of our people were taken."

"Considering who he was?" questioned Tasha.

"He never said, but we had our suspicions. He came to us after the coup, he and his mother. We found them in the woods, and his mother was ill, and she died soon after. He lived with us for years. But then, when he was about twenty-three, he left. We have not seen him since. That was…about eleven years ago now."

"Do you know where he went?" said Jason.

Nikola shook his head. "He went toward the border, that's all we know."

"The border with Czechoslovakia?"

"Yes, why?"

"That's where we are headed."

It's not likely we would find him, thought Jason. But if we did—maybe he would be willing to help his country. There have to be enough people who are not infatuated with von Warberg, who would rally around real royalty…Of course, it's not as if I can do anything about it. He is probably content to live out his days, wherever he happens to be, in peace.

"I remember seeing his father once," said Sofia. "Our James looked a lot like him. Of course, those were different times… good times for our people. Then von Warberg took over and he forced us to try to settle down. Settle down—Ha! The true among us will never become so mahrime that we forget who we are."

"It is hard, though," said Nikola. Pain crossed his features. "He tries to get us to be like everyone else, and when we refuse, he hunts us down. We are equal, you see, as long as we do as he says. So we're careful that his soldiers don't find us. We…don't always succeed."

Marija, across from Jason, stifled a gasp, her eyes stricken. She turned away, mumbled a Roma word under her breath, and slipped out of the trailer.

The room fell silent. Sofia and Nikola exchanged glances. "It's hard for our daughter," Nikola finally said. "Stefan, our son-in-law, was taken only six months ago. But six months in a prison camp can be a lifetime."

"I wasn't aware there were any prison camps in Muldavia," said Tasha.

"Von Warberg doesn't advertise it. But there is one about ten miles from here, called Zohr. And Marija, with her child due soon…Stefan is also the son of our leader, Rovann. I think it's the reason we never travel too far from the camp, even though it is dangerous, even though we can't do anything—But he is our leader, and we must do as he says." He looked at Jason. "Rovann wants you to leave by tomorrow, by the way."

"Tomorrow?" said Elena. "But Jason's not recovered—"

"It's nothing personal. It's just that you are fugitives…and outsiders. We won't leave you empty-handed, though. We decided to give you one of our cars."

"That's very generous of you," said Jason.

"In your condition, it would be akin to murder to leave you at the mercy of patrols. Also Rovann has said that it is worth the price in order to be rid of you."

Sofia nudged her husband with her elbow. "He would not like it if he heard you speaking like that."

"He knows me. He also knows that sometimes the voice of dissent is good—though he doesn't always listen to it." Nikola smiled. "I wouldn't mind if you stayed around longer, myself. But perhaps it's best for all of us." He stood. "I have something for you, Jason." He dug behind the couch and brought out some crutches, intricate designs carved in the wood. "My son-in-law made this for me once after I broke my leg. I don't intend for that to happen again, so I figured you would get more use out of them."

Jason hobbled outside on his new crutches, and Nikola showed them the car that would take them toward the border, one step closer to home.