boar stared at the sleeping woman. "It looked to me as if she were headed directly toward your home. But there is dark magic about her, and power. Her path would have taken her through the heart of my lands, and I decided I preferred that she not trespass unguarded."
The Guardian contemplated the woman. Was it someone his mother knew? Seraph hadn't mentioned finding another Traveler in the village the day before yesterday. Surely she would have said something if she had.
"Will you awaken her?" said the Guardian finally, deciding that her mysteries would be better answered by the woman herself. "Or do you wish me to take her away from this place first?"
"Take her." The forest king turned back toward the entrance of the building. "When you are far enough from here, I'll lift the sleep from her."
The Guardian sighed; though the woman was slight, the tunnel was narrow. Still, he gathered her up and scrambled his way out with only a few extra bruises - on him. He managed to keep her safe from harm.
In the sunlight he could see what features she shared with his mother and what differences marked her. His mother was a smaller woman, and this woman had a thinner, longer nose that gave her face an arrogant beauty.
He'd never seen anyone except his family who bore Traveler blood. He wondered where her people were, if they were among those who were killed or if they awaited her somewhere.
Walking in the woods with the sun on his back, Jes slowly filtered into being, easing the Guardian to sleep. Untroubled by his burden he continued on toward home. Mother would know what to do with her.
They were close to the edge of the woods when she stiffened. He glanced down at her and saw that her eyes were open. He smiled into pale eyes that matched her hair and continued on, ignoring her attempts to get down. If she were on foot it would be harder to bring her home, and Jes knew that he needed to take her home so she would be safe from the forest king.
When she couldn't free herself, she began asking him rapid questions that ran through his ears like rain, first in words he could have understood if he'd bothered, then in the liquid silver tongue that his mother used sometimes when she was very angry or very sad.
"Hush," he said, shaking his head, and he began humming the song his mother had used to sing Rinnie to sleep when she was a babe and fretting in the night.
She stilled at his song, then said slowly, "Who are you?"
"Jes," he said.
She stared at him a moment, "I can walk."
He hesitated. "You have to come with me."
"I'll come with you - but let me walk."
He set her down then, but kept a grip on her hand because he liked the way it felt. She was closed down so he didn't feel the annoying buzzing of her thoughts, just the warmth of her skin. His mother could do that, too.
"You don't look Traveler," she said, almost to herself.
"Mother's a Traveler," he replied. "Papa's a Rederni."
"What happened to me?"
But he'd said as much as he was going to. It was too complex and he couldn't be bothered explaining everything. He shook his head at her and continued toward home.
The field they'd been plowing was empty, the plowshare raised out of the ground and cleaned of soil and dampness to keep it free of rust. If it had looked like rain, Lehr'd have brought it in.
With a glance at the sky, Jes measured the time he'd spent in the woods. As usual, it was longer than he'd thought but not so long that Lehr should be finished plowing. Something must have happened to Skew.
He started to increase his pace, but slowed when the woman stumbled beside him. She didn't have the knack of walking over plowed ground. He swooped, picked her up, and carried her over their field. Remembering her request, though, he set her down on the other side and continued his determined course to the barn.
Lehr carried a heavy, steaming bucket to the barn and was oblivious to them until Jes called out his name.
Lehr halted and set down the bucket. "Jes? I thought you were out looking for a child?"
Jes frowned. "I found her in the woods," he said, because it somehow fit Lehr's questions. "Is something wrong with Skew?"
"No, no," his brother automatically soothed, staring at the woman. "He's