Hoxley led him down the hill, out of the tree line and into the open. They crossed the dusty path and began their entrance into the town. They didn’t get far before villagers began to regard her and wave.

  “Hello, Hoxley!” called one man. “Any news for me today?”

  “None today, I’m afraid, Mr. Bartleby!”

  “Hello, Hoxley!” said a small boy on the side of the road. “Delivering letters?”

  “I always am!” she smiled. A few more hailed her and fortunately enough, no one needed her services. How could she take their deliveries with no pack and supplies? So far, the ruse was working. They only said hello to her and went about their business without scrutinizing her company. It didn’t take long and the two found themselves alone at water’s edge by the mill. The water was higher here as a man-made dam created a deep pool that seemed to collect logs and branches in droves. Prince Damron pulled back the hood just enough to take in the scene.

  “I don’t see anything.” He whispered.

  “Me either.” Said Hoxley “Wait. What’s that on the far side?”

  “Is someone swimming?”

  “It kind of looks like…oh no.”

  “What’s ‘oh no’?”

  “I hope it’s not what I think it is.”

  “What, Hoxley? Tell me.”

  “I can’t tell for sure. Wait here. I’ll walk across the dam and see for sure.”

  “I’m coming with you.”

  “No, you’re not. It’s a thin dam and you’ll look suspicious if you’re a blind person casually crossing it. You’re still playing your role, aren’t you?”

  “Of course, I am.”

  “Then stay here for just a moment. There’s no one around so here’s my chance.”

  “Fine.” He huffed. “But hurry.”

  Hoxley left him to gallop a little downstream and navigate her way across the stone and mortar fabrication, being careful not to sway to one side or the other lest she fall in again. Prince Damron watched her reach the other side before galloping upstream and kneeling at the waters’ edge. She wasn’t there long before she took a few steps into the water and emerged with something in her arms and set it on the ground before returning back into the water and dragging what looked like a person to the muddy shore. She knelt down for a moment, perhaps looking them over before picking up the first item and galloping her way back. Her hooves clopped in a tight path atop the dam before. When she got closer, Prince Damron realized she’d recovered her saddlebags and the bulge within revealed his crown was still inside

  “You found your pack!” He said excitedly “That’s fantastic news!”

  “Start walking. Now.” She said in a coarse tone and a worried expression. “Quickly and keep your voice down. We have to leave this place.” She said without slowing down. Hoxley’s hand snatched the prince by the bicep and forced him along.

  “Ow. You’re hurting my arm.” He said in a hiss of a whisper. “What’s gotten into you? You should be happy you’ve gotten your belongings back.”

  “I am, but I pulled the man I bashed in the face upon the bridge out of the water as well.”

  “Then you’ve saved a life.” He nodded. “That’s admirable.”

  “He was not alive when I retrieved him.” She said without looking away from the path directly back to the hedgerow. “If anything, I may be guilty of causing that man’s death.”

  “That’s nonsense. He attacked you first. It was clearly self-defense. Would you please slow down? You’re practically dragging me.”

  “When we’re away from this place I’ll let go of you.”

  “But what about bread? Aren’t you still hungry like me?”

  “I’m starving but this is no longer the place to linger and search for a meal. Keep walking casually.” The shouting of several people could be heard in the direction they’d come from. Hoxley took a second to glance back over her shoulder in time to see people gathering on the shore line where they’d just been and a few more running across the dam. On the far side, more men wearing the same color clothing as the ones from the bridge and brandishing drawn swords appeared from the far woods. The shouting got more excited and somewhere in a woman screamed. The hedgerow and the tree line beyond were only a few paces away now.

  “Nevermind.” She said, pushing him ahead of her as she released his arm. “Run!”

  Through the woods they ran together, over long fallen trees and across ridges their hooves and feet carried them. Youth was on their side and they ran fast and far. For close to an hour the canopy passed above like a sunray littered tapestry of swaying emerald before the prince could no longer keep pace and collapsed next to a tree in a clearing. Hoxley heard him collapse and circled back.

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “Please…” he panted on hands and knees as his chest heaved. “Let me rest for a moment.”

  “Fine…” she huffed as well. “Let’s…catch our breath…then we…have to keep going.”

  “Where…where are you taking us, anyway?”

  “There’s an elder I know who has a small cabin on the northeast edge of these woods. He’s an herbalist and a potion maker. I’ve delivered letters and parcels to him many times. He’s a nice old man who’s always been kind to me. I think if I give him a few gold coins it may be enough to convince him to allow us to sleep on the floor and dry our clothes next to his fireplace.” I for one don’t want to build a fire that may attract attention and I don’t want to sleep in wet clothes.

  “You think it’s safe for me?”

  “It’s the safest place at the moment. The only other place that’s even remotely close to us is my home on the eastern plain. But if we went back that way, we’d be putting ourselves much closer to those who have been following you. The old man lives in a secluded area and not everyone knows about him. I think it would be a good place for us stay the night.”

  “And he’ll have food?”

  “There’s no guarantees. There’s no guarantee he’ll let us stay, but there’s always a chance.”

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  “Then you and I will have to hope we can scrounge something on our two days walk to Spellvale.”

  “Spellvale? Where the witches live? I don’t want to go there!”

  “Why? What’s wrong with Spellvale?” she asked

  “It’s full of witches! They create and use dark magic for evil deeds!”

  “That’s a terrible thing to say! I have a friend in Spellvale and she’s a delightful person!”

  “You consort with witches?”

  “Consort?” Hoxley snorted and stomped her left hoof as her tail twitched back and forth. She walked closer to stand over him and pointed a finger an inch from his nose. “I’ll have you know that the witches I consort with would never be so low as to pull the swindle you’ve pulled upon me!” The hardness of the prince’s attitude softened a little.

  “I was desperate.” He confessed. I didn’t know what else to do. “I saw you and your pugil and I know your code. I thought you might be able to help me. I’m sorry.”

  “But you know so much about witches and their evil magic?”

  “I’ve never met a witch before. I’ve just heard stories and rumors.”

  “There it is.” Hoxley said, relaxing the finger and stepping away “You don’t know, but you made a judgement based on stories and rumors. That’s unfortunate.” She extended her hand to help him up. “Come on, you’re not gasping for breath anymore so you can at least take up a brisk pace with me. If we hurry, we may still make it to the herbalists before the sun reaches the trees.” The prince took her hand and stood upright. His free hand still clutched the short sword by the blade just past the hilt.

  “Here.” she said, reaching back to her saddlebags. Tucked beneath them was a scabbard that had been resting along her back. “You’re going to cut your hand if you keep holding that weapon like that.”

  “Where did you get that?” he asked

  “Off the dead man at the dam. Those four men at the bridge looked to be carrying the same kind of sword so it might fit. Take it.” Prince Damron took the sword and sure enough the blade slid all the way in and snugged itself in when it reached the hilt. Satisfied, he looped the belt it was attached to around his waist and cinched it. When let go, it rested soundly upon his hipbones and waist

  “It’s a fit!” he exclaimed proudly.

  “Then we’re off. If we keep pace then we may find our destination by dusk.” Onward, they went. Bounding over thistles and thickets. Sometimes the ridgelines didn’t align and they had to slide down embankments only to scale others. The prince was able to climb some stone faces too steep for Hoxley and she had to find alternative routes and paths. In other places her hooves were ideal for leaping up stones arranged like steps on long inclines while the boy huffed and puffed to follow. The canopy over their heads parted and closed as they traveled. Sunnier places helped to dry their clothes and shadier spaces slipped in breezes to cool them when they paused for rest. True to Hoxley’s prediction, the shadows of sundown drew themselves long like stretching cats across the undergrowth as she pointed out a lone cabin on the side of a hill. Even more encouraging was the smell of something cooking being carried on the smoke rising from its stone chimney.