"Who are you?" said the man. What she'd thought was part of his shadow detached from him, stalking toward her and growling. The dog stood in front of her, baring its teeth.

"Sasha won't attack unless I tell her to," he said.

"That's good to know." Her voice trembled a little. She'd grown up with dogs, but she had no idea what this one would do.

The man lowered the gun, though he kept it at an angle, as if ready at a moment's notice to use it. "You are the one they are searching for, aren't you."

He stepped closer. She backed up against the tree. He brought the gun up—and then flipped it over, and slid it into a sheath on his back. He spread out his hands. "I don't want to hurt you. What's your name?"

"Tasha."

"Tasha," he said, thoughtfully. "Tasha, will you allow me to help you? I assume you need supplies."

"We are doing well enough on our own."

"How many are with you?"

She shook her head. She wasn't going to give them away, even though she wasn't too happy with either of them at the moment.

"I am not on the side of the Czechs or the Muldavians—not their government, at least," he said.

"So, you're neutral?"

"Ever since relations between Muldavia and Czechoslovakia worsened, many Muldavians have tried to escape across the border. I do what I can for them, if I get to them before the soldiers do." There was sadness in his voice. "I can give you a place to stay until the search dies down. There's a secret trapdoor where you can hide if the soldiers come. I can give you food and medicine if you need it. But if you are doing well enough on your own, I understand."

"So you're operating a sort of underground railroad?"

"A what? Oh. I think I've heard of that. In America during the Civil War, they hid the runaway slaves. Yes, I suppose what I'm operating is similar—although I don't have much contact with others.

"So, Tasha, will you come with me? We need to move fast; the woods are quiet now, but the soldiers may return at any time."

Tasha thought for a moment. She wasn't in the habit of trusting complete strangers, especially in enemy territory, but they did need help. Jason needed medical attention. And if this man had a place they could hide…He could be tricking her, but somehow she doubted it; there was something in his voice that made her trust him.

"I will come. But I have to get the others."

"Where are they?"

She hesitated; she hoped she wasn't making a mistake. "This way." She led him down through the woods to the path along the ledge.

"Why are you running from them?" he said.

"I'd rather not get into it," said Tasha.

"I only ask because I do not see many Americans in this territory. I have not met many Americans; just a few when I lived in Bratislava."

"Well, your English is very good."

"Thank you," he said. She realized he had a Muldavian accent—it made sense because English was their second language—but also there was a hint of a Gypsy accent too. She wondered why a Muldavian was living on the Czech border. He was probably one of the exiles he had spoken about, only he had chosen to live here, in the mountains—to help them, perhaps? He had mentioned living in Bratislava. Strange he would come to live back here after living in the city.

"You didn't tell me your name," she said.

He hesitated. Then he said, "It's Dominik."

They walked in silence along the ledge, and then they reached the cave.

"You'd better go in first," said Dominik. "Reassure them that I'm with you."

"Good idea," she said. While Dominik waited along the edge of the cave, Tasha crept inside. It was dark; the fire had gone out. As her eyes adjusted, she saw Jason, sitting on a rock, Elena lying beside him on the floor. He rose, clutching the camera gun.

"It's okay," said Tasha. "It's me."

"I thought I heard something earlier," he said. "It must've been a false alarm."

"Probably." She wondered if it was her that he had heard; when she'd seen them kissing and turned back around, she'd dislodged a rock from the ledge, but she didn't know it had been loud enough for them to hear. She wasn't about to tell him that though.

Elena stirred, sat up. "What is it? Is everything okay?"

"I've found someone," said Tasha. "He says he can help us."

"You trust him?" said Jason.

"He's helped others cross the border."

"Do you have evidence he's telling the truth?"

"I—not really."

"So you're just taking his word for it? If I said the same thing, you'd think I was crazy."

"I know, Jason, but there is something about him. I've chosen to trust him, because we need to trust somebody. He can help us."

"We've been doing fine on our own."

"We're sitting ducks here, Jason. You thought the soldiers were coming tonight. What would you do? You'd be able to hold them off for a little while, but then what? You'd be trapped here."

"But won't we just be trapped there, wherever he wants to take us?"

"He has a place for us to hide. He has food, supplies—how long do you think we can last, hiding in this cave? You need to recover before you can walk to the nearest city. So does Elena."

"So, where is our mysterious benefactor?"

"He's here."

"He's here?"

"Yes. Dominik?" She called.

He stepped forward, his tall, muscular form silhouetted against the dark charcoal sky. His dog walked up with him, her elegant German Shepherd outline drawn against the faint light.

"Dominik," said Tasha, "This is Jason."

Dominik held out his hand; Jason shook it, looking a little wary. She didn't blame him; in fact, she was glad he was being the cautious one for once.

"And this is Elena."

"Hi," said Elena. She grasped his hand. "Do you have a house nearby?"

"A place where you can rest. Better than the hard ground anyway."

"A bed?"

"A bed."

"That sounds heavenly."

"Speaking of which, we'd better get back there. We don't want the dawn to catch us." He helped Elena to her feet; Jason and Tasha stuffed the rest of the supplies in the pack with the water bottles. Then they made their way out of the cave and up the path.

Jason forced himself to walk, even though his leg raged with pain at each step. It was even worse going uphill than down or on level ground. He had maybe walked half a mile before he had to stop, and leaned against a tree.

"You are injured?" said Dominik.

"I'm okay. Just need a rest." He didn't want to betray any weakness, just in case this man turned out to be a foe rather than a friend.

"It's a gunshot wound," said Tasha.

"Here." Dominik took Jason's arm, supporting him over his shoulder. He relayed Elena to Tasha's care, and they made their way through the woods. Despite Jason's concerns, he was grateful for the assistance. He probably wouldn't have made it on his own.

Even with Dominik's help, it seemed like miles before they reached their destination. After crossing a stream, they came to a rock formation, sandstone ruins jutting out from it. Dominik led them past the ruins to a little clearing where a small log cabin stood, smoke streaming out of the chimney. An axe was buried in a chunk of wood next to a shed. As they approached, two dogs jumped off of the porch, and ran toward them. First they greeted Dominik, licking his hand and whining excitedly, then they sniffed Jason, their eyes bright and wary. They surrounded Elena and Tasha, and then, as if finding they were trustworthy, raced back to the porch with the other German Shepherd, Sasha, wagging their tails.

"That's Coal and that's Char," said Dominik, pointing to the darker Shepherds. "They're Sasha's sons." They stepped up onto the porch, and then into the cabin. In the dining room, woodcarvings lined the walls. The table and chairs were made of wood as well, of a similar color and finish to the carvings.

"Did you make these?" asked Jason.

"I did," said Dominik.

"They're very good."

"Thanks. I like to work with wood, and there is a...lot of time up here."

He led them to a large bed room, with a generous homemade quilt on the bed, and books on many shelves. "Tasha and Elena, you can sleep here," said Dominik.

"It's a beautiful room," said Elena.

"Before you make yourselves too much at home, I want to show you something."

They hobbled to the next room. It was smaller, with a blue-quilted bed and more bookshelves. Dominik slid one bookshelf aside. He pushed back a groove in the floorboards, revealing a dark opening. Cool air breathed out of it.

"This is the room to the cellar. If soldiers are coming, you can escape down this way. I will try to help you. But hopefully it won't come to that."

They sat down in the living room, and Dominik took a look at Elena's ankle; it still looked swollen. He bound it up with a bandage, and then turned to Jason's injury.

"This doesn't look very good," said Dominik. He took some salve from a small jar and rubbed it on Jason's ankle. It hurt at first, but then it tingled soothingly. He wrapped it up to keep the infection out. The teapot whistled, and he went into the kitchen and came back with three mugs of tea. "It's made from an herb in these woods," he said. "It has a calming effect."

"We certainly need that," said Tasha, sitting in the chair by the window. She took the mug, and sipped from it.

Jason looked at his tea, not sure whether to drink something a strange man had offered. But he sipped it anyway; they were all in this together now, poisoned or not. It had a minty flavor, with barely a hint of bitterness that might conceal a poison. Of course, there were many tasteless poisons….

"Jason," said Tasha, in a somewhat alarmed tone.

Jason jumped. A hot drop of tea fell onto his lap. "What is it?"

"Look at me." She set down her tea on the lampstand and crept forward. She stood in front of Jason and Dominik, and touched Jason's chin, turning his face toward her.

"You two could be brothers."

Jason looked at Dominik. Strange. In the early morning light from the window, there was a resemblance—at least, from the few times Jason had grown a beard. He rubbed his chin, and realized he had indeed grown a beard in the past few days; he hadn't had a chance to shave.

The thought crossed Jason's mind—but it was too ludicrous, too far-fetched, to entertain. Yet, how could it be a coincidence? He didn't want to confront Dominik without more proof, and evidently Tasha didn't either, for she sat back down and sipped her tea in silence, a thoughtful look on her face.

"Perhaps you have had relatives here," said Dominik.

"Perhaps," said Jason, and left it at that.

Dominik helped Jason to his room, but Jason wasn't quite ready to put his guard down, even if his guess was right. He wished he were close to Tasha and Elena to protect them if he needed to, but at least he'd returned the camera gun to Tasha.

He lay back on the bed. His eyes wandered around the room; there were books by C. S. Lewis, Dostoyevsky, Victor Hugo, Kafka, Mark Twain. There was even a shelf behind the headboard. Jason reached up and took a book down. It was Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie. Jason smiled; he'd liked reading that book when he was a kid. He flipped through it, discovering beautiful illustrations inside. He read the first paragraph—and then, dreams took over, weaving the strange wild images of the book with the stressfulness of the past few days.

In the dark, twisting forest, shadowy forms converged on him and caught him in a net; he tried to fly away, but he couldn't. They laughed as he struggled in vain—

He bolted awake. Evening light streamed through the west window; the book lay beside his head. It took him a moment to remember where he was and how he'd gotten there. The events of the past few days seemed just as much of a dream as the one he'd just woken from. But then, maybe he was still dreaming…A strange melody wafted through the cabin. Dreamlike, haunting—and familiar. Jason wracked his mind to figure out where he'd heard it.

He slipped out of the covers; his leg shot with pain when his foot met the floor. So that was real at least.

He cracked open the door. And crept out, careful not to let his feet creak on the floorboards. Jason followed the melody into the living room; Dominik sat in the chair beside the lampstand, his back to Jason, a book lying upside down on the armrest, the source of the melody in his hand.

It was a watch, golden, intricately carved. And then he remembered where he'd heard that melody before.

His father had the exact same watch.

The floor creaked behind Jason. Dominik whirled around, snapping the watch shut, cutting off its melody.

"Where did you get that?" said Jason.

"It was…a gift."

"My father has a watch just like it."

"That's not possible."

"Why?"

Dominik shook his head, sadness in his eyes.

"I think, Dominik, that your father gave one to my father, then he had another one made—which he passed on to you. That's only my theory. But—I think I have found you."

"Found who?" said Elena in a sleepy voice behind him.

"The rightful heir to the throne. Your name isn't Dominik, is it?"

"Oh, yes, it is," said Dominik. "But my whole name is Roderick James Dominik Alexander Augustus Wilhem, Prince of Muldavia."