group of them—the ogres, I mean. It was within my first hour or so in the forest. I’d stopped to pee and—” she choked on a sudden burp-giggle as the terrifying memory rose to the surface—“I suppose I accidentally peed on one of them, waking the whole group.”
Garin gave her a long, hard stare. He didn’t seem to find it funny at all. The vampire sped up, his voice rumbling. “God, woman. You are mental. Good to know the kingdom almost lost their queen and no one would’ve had a bloody clue what’d happened.”
“I thought they were a bunch of large standing stones—you now, like the ancient menhir out in Carnac? Anyway, I escaped them in the storm. I think the rain dampened my scent. I ran for any shelter I could find, and that’s how I ended up at the inn.”
Garin only grunted in response and didn’t say much more after resuming their journey. Lilac’s stomach lurched as the ground finally evened out under his feet, and even then, Garin only spoke to ask her if she would like to walk.
Truth be told, she rather liked it in his arms, but walking was fine, too..
They continued side by side, though he insisted on holding her potato sack. The branches in this new part of Brocéliande hung lower, the trees a different type, though she couldn’t identify them. The forest eventually opened up to broad-branched oak trees, more widely spaced. The soft trickle of a brook nearby indicated they were still on track.
Minutes later and without warning, they finally broke out of the woods.
They stood before an expanse of rolling hills, lush and grand under the cloudless night just hours before dawn. The scene was probably picturesque by daylight. At the bottom of their hill stood several stout structures. Lilac couldn’t quite make them out—a well and stable pairing, some hay bales here, maybe a coop on stilts there. It was too dark to tell.
The building nearest them was close enough to identify as a single farmhouse; an older two-story structure of decent size for a peasant farmer home, Lilac thought. The central section looked like it was made of older lime mortar, but flanked with modest east and west wings crafted in timber frame. There was even a lovely wooden porch that must’ve been so cozy in the sunlight, Lilac thought idly. The only thing protecting the property from criminals or critters—or wayward Darklings—was a stick fence that wrapped along the building and around the vegetable garden out front. Beyond the property, the pasture continued until the next farm a while away.
She looked over at Garin, expecting him to speak, but he was gone. Instead, he was a few yards away, bending over the edge of the brook.
“What are you doing?” For some strange reason, she felt like she needed to whisper in the shadowed vastness. She knew he’d hear her.
He took a moment before returning to her side. The blood that Kestrel had smeared over his face was gone, and he smirked as he held something out to her. It was Sinclair’s chalice. “Drink up.”
Lilac’s initial response was to shrink away. Then, she blinked in surprise.
“I’ve seen you eat and drink maybe three times during our entire time together. Since Cinderfell, I’ve had to listen to the incessant growling of your stomach. It’s harder to ignore than you’d think.”
“No, I know. It’s just… thank you.” She took the cup and sipped once, swallowing her surprise at his unexpected gesture, and then gulped the entire thing down. Once her lips had touched the freezing water, she realized how parched she actually felt.
“I am really hungry,” she admitted.
“So am I.”
They exchanged glances. When Garin slowly approached her, the blood went from Lilac’s cheeks. “No,” she tried to say bravely but choked on her own voice. Shaking, she held the chalice above her shoulder.
“Were you just about to bludgeon me?” he laughed.
Lilac rolled her eyes, the tension flowing out of her. It wouldn’t have been the first time she considered it.
“Ready?” he asked, stalking past her and toward the nearest farmhouse.
“For what?”
“For some food. Perhaps a warm bath.”
“Right now?” she hissed frantically, eyes bulging. They needed time to formulate a plan, and he looked like he either already had one or would act on the spot. “Doesn’t someone live there?”
“Indeed. A pair.” He paused to listen, and Lilac realized he was listening in, through the farmhouse walls. “A couple, I think.”
“People with whom you are acquainted?”
“No.”
“What?” Lilac stomped along, trailing him