Philip fell asleep with those troubling thoughts playing in his head. That night, he dreamed he was back in the square in Melinfield. He was standing on the stage Jonathan and Abraham had stood on, facing the entire town.

“Where are our sons?” they asked him, “why have only you returned?”

“Where are our friends, Philip?” Michael asked him from the front row, “didn’t you say you would all come back together?”

Philip backed away from the crowd, not sure what to say as they looked back at him expectantly. As he stepped back, he stumbled and was underwater. He felt the orb glow in his chest. He tried to keep the power under control, but he couldn’t breathe. He clawed at the water, trying to get to the surface when suddenly, he heard an explosion. He then found himself in the town square, surrounded by the charred remains of the townspeople.

Philip sat upright and rubbed his face. It was just after dawn. The chirping of birds filled the air and Penelope was looking at him. “Another bad dream?” she asked.

Philip nodded and realising he was completely exposed, pulled the cloak tight around his body. “I can’t wait to get some clothes,” he muttered.

“It’s shocking that your modesty has lasted this long,” Penelope laughed.

They checked the fish, and they found that they had spoiled.

“Best not to chance it,” Penelope warned, “the last thing you want is the trots up in the mountains.”

Reluctantly, Philip left his fish on the ground, and they set off on another day of walking. Their journey took them mostly uphill today, and as they continued, the undergrowth thinned, before disappearing altogether. The trees became shorter and more sparse, and the ground grew rockier which was murder on his bare feet.

“Are we going to climb over the bloody peak?” Philip asked as they stopped for a rest at midday.

“Not quite,” Penelope replied, “it took me years to find the pass we’re about to take through the mountains, so I’d appreciate it if you kept it a secret.”

Philip looked around theatrically before replying, “I am thoroughly lost and have no idea if we’re on the Morovian side or the Celethir side of the mountains, so your secret is safe with me.”

Penelope crinkled her nose and smiled. “We’re still on the Morovian side.”

“Is it going to get much colder?” Philip ventured, rubbing his hands on his shoulder, “it’s already bloody freezing.”

Penelope nodded. “Soon, you’re going to have to use your power to regulate your temperature.”

Philip’s eyebrows soared. “If you can do that, why are you dressed so warm, and could I borrow a layer or two from you?”

Penelope clutched her clothes tight and shook her head. “No can do. These old bones get cold easily, I’m afraid.”

“Then just regulate your temperature,” Philip replied, “like you said.”

“It’s not something you can do indefinitely,” Penelope explained, “it takes concentration, and it saps your power. I can do it for two or three hours at most.”

“How long will it take us to cross this mountain pass?”

“Longer than I can hold it for,” Penelope said, “but your power runs deep, deeper than any of the Gifted I’ve seen. You might be able to hold it for longer.”

“Why don’t we find out how long I can hold it for right now?” Philip asked, “I’m bloody freezing.”

“If you’re cold now, believe me when I say you want to save this technique for later,” Penelope replied.

After a brief rest, they continued on their journey. Penelope brought them to a halt at the edge of a treeline just a few hours later, well before dusk.

“This is as far as we go today,” she said.

Philip looked ahead, and all he saw was a rocky slope dotted with clumps of thin, sparse grass that was whipped around violently by the wind.

“We’ve still got a few hours of daylight,” Philip remarked, “why don’t we just press on?”

“We do not want to spend the night up there,” Penelope said, looking up at the snow topped peak loomed above them.

Philip looked up and watched as wisps of snow dance around the peak as they were blown about by the wind. The sun shone brightly in a cloudless sky.

“Seems like the weather will never be better for a crossing,” he remarked mostly to himself.

“I suppose that’s true, but it’s too late to go up today,” Penelope replied, “we’d best gather some wood for tmorrow.”

She looked up at the mountain before adding, “if we do end up having to spend a night up there, we’ll need to start a fire.”

“If?” Philip asked, “have you had to spend a night up there before?”

“Only once,” Penelope said, “and I nearly froze to death. I’ve made it a point to bring some firewood up with me ever since.”

Collecting the firewood took them a few minutes, after which Penelope decided it was time for Philip to start a new lesson.

“Meditation?” Philip asked dubiously, “isn’t that for monks and the like?”

Penelope sighed. “Have you not noticed that your power fluctuates with your emotions?”

Philip nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose it does.”

“The key to getting your power under control, is to control your emotions,” Penelope continued, “and the best way to do that is through meditation.”

Philip sat in a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

“Now,” Penelope said, "empty your thoughts and focus on your breathing.”

Philip did as he was told, and soon began fidgeting, finding himself distracted by the slightest stimulation from his remaining senses, the buzz of an insect, an itch on his arm, the breath of the wind on his skin, sound of the wind through the leaves.

“You must close yourself off from the outside world,” Penelope said, “focus on your breathing and the sound of my voice.”

Philip struggled to focus, and soon, his mind began to wander. Involuntarily, it recalled his daily life in the mill at Melinfield, he remembered Leonard’s face, then Michael’s, and then David’s. David was dead, he told himself, you killed him. And Lewis. And Peter. And Eric. Philip opened his eyes to break this line of thought and saw Penelope looking back at him.

“Not easy, is it?” she grinned.

Philip shook his head.

“You need practice,” Penelope pointed out, “it’s something you’ll have to work on in your own time.”

Philip nodded and took a deep breath. “Let’s try that again.”

Penelope nodded and laid herself down in the grass. “Wake me up if you need help.”

By the time dusk came, Philip was thoroughly exhausted. “I never knew thinking about nothing could be so tiring,” he said to himself.

“I told myself the same thing,” Penelope remarked, as she sat up. She checked the position of the sun and stretched.

“You had best get an early night,” she said, “we have a tough climb ahead of us tomorrow.”

Penelope got a fire started and Philip lay down with his back to it as usual. As he drifted off to sleep, he prayed to the gods for a dreamless sleep.

Philip woke up with a gasp. His nightmares were vivid but completely forgotten as soon as he sat up. Penelope had woken him up with a firm shake of the arm. He looked to the sky and saw that they were in the twilight just before dawn.

“You looked like you were having bad dreams again,” Penelope remarked, “so I thought I’d best wake you up.”

“I’ve killed a lot of people,” Philip said, rubbing his face. He felt more tired now than when he had gone to sleep, “I deserve a lot more than a few nightmares.”

“There are more useful things to do than racking yourself with guilt,” Penelope pointed out, “this achieves nothing.”

“What could you know about how I feel?” Philip said sourly.

Penelope brushed the dirt off her trousers as she got to her feet. “I’m sure you’ve heard tales of my exploits from the Academy.”

Philip nodded sullenly.

“Do you think no one died in those heroic battles?” Penelope ventured.

Philip scowled but said nothing.

“I’ve killed my share of people,” Penelope said quietly, “and I’ve spent a lifetime regretting it.”

Philip remained seated, staring off into the distance.

“The dead don’t care how guilty you feel,” Penelope continued, when Philip did not answer, “it took me a lifetime to figure that out. I hope you don’t make the same mistake.”

The mood was heavy as they made their way out of the trees. The wind whipped Philip’s cloak around as soon as they were out of cover, and he cursed as he gathered it up and wrapped it tightly around his body.

The wind chilled him to the bone, and he tried performing the other technique Penelope had taught him the day before. He focused on the orb in his chest and channelled his thoughts into it until it was warm. He allowed the warmth to spread throughout his body and held it. It required concentration to maintain it through every part of his body, and he stumbled several times as they continued climbing the mountainside.

“You’re starting already?” Penelope asked.

Philip nodded. “I’ve only got this cloak to fend off the cold.”

Penelope shrugged, “just so you know, it gets much colder further up.”

“I’ll pace myself,” Philip replied tersely, unwilling to give up the sliver of warmth he had created for himself.

Penelope smirked but said nothing as she led them further up the mountain. Soon, the terrain grew more difficult as they threaded their way up the mountainside. The going was slower than the day before as they had to double back a few times as they found their path blocked by fallen boulders or sheer drops.

“I think this is the right way,” Penelope said, looking around, “the pass is between the next pair of peaks.”

They were walking along a two foot wide ledge with sheer drops on either side. It ran for another three hundred yards before widening out. They paused mid-step and crouched as a gust of wind threatened to blow them off.

“I thought we were going to die,” Philip remarked once they cleared the ledge, “is there anywhere we can rest?”

He felt more fatigued than usual, and it was not just because of the difficult terrain.

“You’re tired because you’re using so much energy staying warm,” Penelope said and looked at the sky, “we had better not stop, it looks like the weather might turn.”

Philip looked at the sky. It was as blue as ever, though a few clouds were visible close by. “Looks like it’ll be another clear day to me,” he remarked.

“The weather can change quickly in the mountains,” Penelope warned, “and I don’t like the look of those clouds.”

The clouds gathered all too quickly, and the day darkened as they continued up the mountain. Soon, the wind had picked up, stinging their faces with sleet. A light dusting of snow on the rocks ahead made the going even more treacherous.

“Focus now,” Penelope called out over the howling wind, “it’d be all too easy to lose your footing and fall to your death in conditions like these.”

Philip gritted his teeth and ploughed on after Penelope. The orb in his chest was burning red hot now. Maintaining his body temperature against the freezing cold and keeping his footing while keeping track of Penelope’s was taking all of his concentration. Up ahead, he could feel her aura growing stronger as she was forced to call upon her power to keep herself warm. That helped Philip considerably, being able to follow her without having to look up, as the wind and sleet stung his eyes and made it difficult for him to look ahead.

Up ahead, he felt Penelope’s aura pause, and he hurried over to her to find her sitting on the ground, clutching her ankle.

“Can you walk?” Philip ventured, shouting to be heard over the wind.

Penelope blinked back tears and shook her head.

“Here, let me help you,” Philip said.

He knelt down and Penelope put her arm around his shoulder. As he stood, Penelope winced as she tried to put some weight on her ankle.

“We should find some shelter,” he suggested.

“There isn’t any,” Penelope said, “but if we carry on another two hundred yards, we should be able to find a windbreak.”

With Philip supporting most of Penelope’s weight, they inched forward in the blinding sleet. After what felt like an eternity, they rounded a corner. He felt Penelope tug at him as they did and discovered that the corner was actually an outcropping of rock.

As they ducked behind it, the wind died down almost at once. That last tug took the last of Penelope’s energy and her legs gave way. The manoeuvre and sudden dead weight at his shoulder caught Philip off balance, and they both tumbled into a heap.

“What are you doing?” Philip gasped.

Penelope did not respond, and Philip felt her aura go weak. He touched her forehead and found that her skin was ice cold. He looked around and saw that this was the best shelter they were going to get.

Penelope’s eyes were open but distant and she moved her lips, but no words would come out. He knew he had to warm Penelope up. He looked at the firewood they had brought with them, but quickly decided that would be a last resort. If he had a panic attack and passed out now, they were both dead. He took stock of his own power and decided that he had enough to risk it.

“What if you fail or run out of power halfway and don’t have the power to even ignite the firewood?” a voice inside of him screamed.

“What if you light the fire and pass out at once, killing you both?” he shot back.

Committed, he shared the cloak with Penelope, and hesitantly pressed his bare skin against her clothes.

“This is necessary for her survival,” he reminded himself.

He then focused on the orb in his chest and willed a little more warmth out of it. He felt his body warm up a little, but he knew it wasn’t enough. He adjusted himself into a more comfortable position before teasing a little more warmth out, and then a little more, until eventually he could feel himself growing almost uncomfortably hot. The orb within him teetered between a red glow and a searing white heat, and he struggled maintain the former.

Upon finding a temperature he thought he could maintain for a long time, and one warm enough to help Penelope, he blocked out the howling wind, the softness of Penelope’s body against his, and the cold hard rock that surrounded them, and focused only on maintaining the balance of the heat of the orb and spreading it evenly throughout his body. Concentrating was hard, but he knew he was committed now. He began to feel lightheaded, and his body screamed for him to stop fuelling the orb, but if he did, he did not know if he had the strength to ignite the branch and so he persevered.

Soon, Philip managed to block everything out and felt oddly serene. There was only the orb, his breathing, and the beating of his heart. He fed his energy slowly into the orb and felt warm. He did not know if he was awake or asleep. His thoughts were calm, and he was at peace.

He had no idea how much time had elapsed when he became aware of a tugging at his arm. It felt distant, like his body was a million miles away from the orb. Reluctantly, he stopped concentrating on the orb and came back to the present with a gasp.

He opened his eyes to find Penelope sitting next to him, watching him. It was night now, and stars twinkled in a clear sky overhead.

“Is this a dream?” he muttered, feeling groggy. A weariness unlike any he had ever felt clung to him.

“No,” Penelope replied, “you’ve saved my life, and learnt an important lesson in regulating your power.”

She paused briefly before adding, “although doing what you did instead of lighting a fire risked both our lives… but I’ll overlook it this one time.”

She rested her head on the rocky outcropping at their backs and sighed. “Though to be able to sustain such warmth for so long a time… I look forward to finding out just how deep your Gift runs.”

Philip’s eyelids felt heavy, and he let off a great yawn. “I think I hit my limit,” he said.

“Go to sleep,” Penelope said, “I’ll get a fire going once you’re out, so you won’t have to worry about us freezing to death.”

“I’m fine,” Philip protested, but the words were scarcely out of his mouth before he had nodded off.

That night, Philip slept dreamlessly. He woke up in the middle of the night, and the plateau seemed like a distant memory. He could hear a fire crackle behind him. He did not remember falling asleep facing the rocky outcropping and he guessed Penelope must have moved him.

He could feel her sleeping nearby but didn’t dare look around while there was a fire nearby. Out of curiosity, he visualized the orb in his chest and tried pouring a little power into it. He could scarcely get it warm before he suddenly felt incredibly weary.

Soon, he drifted off to sleep again, hoping that the dreams would stay away for the rest of the night. When he opened his eyes again, the sun was high in the sky, and he felt more rested than he had in weeks. Philip looked up at the clear sky and yesterday’s events felt like a dream.

“You look well rested,” Penelope remarked as she massaged her ankle.

“Will you be able to carry on?” Philip asked.

Penelope looked down at her ankle and winced. “We don’t have much of a choice. We’ve used all our firewood, so we can’t spend another night up here.”

“How much farther do we have to go before it gets more hospitable?” he ventured as he got to his feet.

“Normally, by noon,” Penelope said, and looked down at her ankle, “but now, hopefully by dusk.”

“Then we should get going,” Philip said. He helped Penelope to her feet and let her lean on him for support as she limped down the mountain.

They made slow progress and soon, Penelope was sweating from the exertion but by noon, their route was taking them steadily downhill.

“We’ve made it to the Celethir side of the mountains,” Penelope panted.

Philip looked downhill and saw a vast forest spread out before them like a carpet. Fields and a sizable town could be seen far into the distance.

“Is your house there?” Philip asked, pointing at the town. He estimated it would take them a week to get there if Penelope could walk normally.

Penelope shook her head. “My home’s a bit closer than that.”

Philip raised an eyebrow as he looked around the forests for any signs of a settlement.

“You won’t see it from here,” Penelope said, “let’s get going. We want to be back into the forest before dark.”

The path down the mountain was narrow and treacherous. In one part, down a narrow ledge that seemed cut into a sheer cliff, the rock was perfectly smooth, glossy and a whitish grey colour opposed to the slate grey of the surrounding rocks. In fact, it closely resembled the rocks immediately around him after the tragedy at the plateau.

“Be careful,” Penelope warned, “I may have been a little desperate the first time I crossed these mountains and used my power to create a path when I couldn’t find one.”

The rocks were slippery, but by gripping the side of the cliff tightly, they were able to slowly inch their way down.

The sun was setting by the time they made it to the treeline, and Philip quickly busied himself gathering firewood while Penelope rested. They ate the last of the nuts and bread that she had brought before settling in for the night.

“Three more days,” Penelope remarked, as she got a fire going, “three more days and we’ll be home.”

“Is your ankle any better?” Philip ventured.

Penelope laughed and winced. “No, if anything it’s worse,” she said, rubbing her ankle, “we had a tough journey today, but the worst is over, thankfully.”

“But we’re out of food,” Philip pointed out.

“We can forage for more around here,” Penelope replied, “we’ll be hungry, but we won’t starve.”

Philip grunted. “How is it you know so much about foraging, anyway? They never taught us anything of the sort at the Academy.”

“My father was a woodward,” she replied, “and we grew up in forests like these. He taught us to live off the land.”

“What happened to your family?” Philip asked.

Penelope shrugged. “I don’t know, I lost contact with them after I disappeared. Hopefully, they’re doing fine off the money I’d sent them.”

“Why did you disappear?” Philip ventured, feeling there was no better time to ask. She would be as willing to share as she’d ever be after he’d helped her so much over the last day.

Penelope drew a deep breath before she looked up at the sky and smiled. “You know all those heroic stories they tell of me?”

Philip nodded.

“As I said, I killed many people during those times,” Penelope said, “I thought I was a hero for doing it, fighting the kingdom’s enemies, basking in the adulation of the people and my fellow soldiers…”

“What changed?” Philip asked as Penelope paused.

“A good friend of mine died in battle,” Penelope said, “and it made me realise then that the people I had killed up til then also had families and people who cared for them… that they were actual people and not faceless enemies of the kingdom.”

“What did you do then?” Philip asked.

“There was a skirmish in the middle of a wood, and in the thick of the fighting, I slipped away into the wilderness,” Penelope replied, “I stumbled about in them for a while before making my way over the mountains and settling down here.”

“They said you were dead,” Philip remarked.

Penelope smiled. “So I’ve heard.”

She looked at Philip and raised an eyebrow. “It was a conclusion for them to come to. They couldn’t very well say that I’d lost my nerve and ran away, could they?”

Philip shook his head thoughtfully. “I suppose not, no.”

“They cooked that story up,” Penelope said, “and I’ve been living quietly here in exile ever since.”

Philip looked at the forest around them. “By here, you mean here in these woods?”

Penelope nodded.

“Do you mean to tell me you’ve been living in these woods on your own for the last twenty odd years?” Philip demanded, “then what was all that talk of not wasting your time mourning the dead?”

A sad smile crept across Penelope’s face. “I suppose some things are easier said than done.”

Her eyes then flicked to Philip. “I just don’t want you to make the same mistake I did, then wake up one day to realise you’ve wasted twenty years of your life.”

“If only it were so easy to forget the guilt,” Philip said softly.

“I’m not saying forget about them,” Penelope pointed out, “I’m saying don’t flagellate yourself over it for the rest of your life.”

Philip bit his lip. “I don’t intend to.”

Philip spent the rest of the evening practising his meditation, which was made more difficult by the emptiness in his stomach.

He enjoyed another dreamless night and they set off just after dawn the next day. The going was easier as they made their way through the forested foothills. The undergrowth grew thicker as they made their way downhill, which improved their harvest from foraging.

“We should arrive tomorrow,” Penelope said, “we might as well get an early night.”

They had made good progress that day, as her ankle recovered so she had decided to rest early.

“Say, if you live off the forests,” Philip said, as he prepared for his day’s meditation practice, “can you hunt deer or anything?”

“Yes,” Penelope said, “but I did not bring my bow along… I didn’t want to be confused for a combatant back at Gelt’s Pass.”

“Is there a decent meal waiting for us at your place?” Philip asked hopefully.

Penelope shrugged. “I don’t know about decent, but there’ll be more than nuts and berries.”

“What will we train once we get there?” Philip asked.

“I think you’ve got the control more or less sorted by now,” Penelope said as her eyes twinkled, “so perhaps it’s time you started learning to master the fire aspect of your power.”

“Oh,” Philip said, feeling less enthusiastic about reaching Penelope’s home now.

“What will you do with me after I’m trained?” Philip ventured at length.

Penelope was taken off guard by the question.

“You’d be free to go, I suppose,” she replied, “but only if I feel you won’t be a danger to others.”

“What does that mean?” Philip asked, “would you stop me if I wanted to run off to join an army?”

Penelope took a sip of water as she thought it over before shaking her head. “No,” she said, “I would be disappointed, but I don’t think I’d stop you. I just want to ensure you have full control over your powers.”

Philip nodded thoughtfully.

“If you mastered the flame,” Penelope continued, “would you really become a miller?”

Philip shrugged. “Any delusions of grandeur I might have had died on that plateau.”

Penelope laughed. “You sound like an old man.”

“Besides,” Philip continued, red faced, “there’s nothing wrong with having humble dreams.”

“You’re not wrong about that,” Penelope said.

Philip practised his meditation well into the night, hoping that it would banish the nightmares once again. However, the dreams of fire and the mill haunted him, and he woke up in the middle of the night and found himself unable to go back to sleep.

Penelope woke before dawn, perhaps anxious for their long journey to finally be over and found that her ankle had recovered enough for her to be able to limp on her own. They took time to forage in the early morning before carrying on. Soon, Philip found that they were walking on faint paths through the undergrowth.

“We’re almost home now,” Penelope grinned over her shoulder.

“Do you have a spare set of clothes there, by the way?” Philip asked.

Penelope turned around to face Philip and laughed. He had not bothered to wrap his borrowed cloak around his body since they had descended from the mountain, and his entire front was exposed.

“I thought you’d grown to become quite comfortable with your nudity,” she remarked as her eyes twinkled mischievously.

“No I haven’t,” he shot back hotly, “it’s just that you’ve seen everything there is to see.”

“Multiple times,” she butted in, “but worry not. As I said, you’re too young for my tastes.”

“Do you have spare clothes or don’t you?” Philip demanded.

“Now, that’s hardly the question you should ask a lady, is it?” Penelope said, feigning demureness.

Philip’s face went red. “If you were a lady, all the more reason you wouldn’t want a naked man living under the same reason, isn’t it?”

Penelope laughed. “Yes, yes, I have clothes you can borrow, though I think they’ll be a tight fit.”

Now that Philip thought about it, he stood almost a head taller than Penelope who was also much thinner than he.

“Are you able to make your own clothes?” he asked.

Penelope laughed again.

“I can mend them or alter them somewhat,” she said, “but no, I can’t weave my own cloth.”

Philip grunted. “How about shoes?”

Penelope shook her head. “I suppose we’ll have to go into town at some point.”

“That town I saw in the distance?” Philip asked.

Penelope nodded.

“Is that safe?”

Penelope shrugged. “There are a few risks, of course, but I’m not entirely self-sufficient out here. I do need to go there to trade from time to time.”

Philip didn’t like the idea of going into town, but he supposed there was no alternative. A city boy like him knew nothing of living off the land. Soon, they were walking down a narrow path which had been trampled into the undergrowth and their pace picked up considerably.

The path grew wider and more pronounced as they continued down it. It was late afternoon when the path led them into a large glade in the middle of the forest. The grass here was long and wildflowers grew in scattered patches, their colours dazzling in the waning sun. Standing in the middle of the glade was a small wood cabin. It had a single storey, and its walls were built from whole logs. The windows that were cut out of the walls were shuttered and the thatch roof was tall and sloped. A fence surrounded a small garden at the front of the cabin where vegetables grew in tidy rows.

“I’m home!” Penelope shouted in the direction of the cabin, taking Philip off-guard. Was she living with someone? She stopped in the middle of the path and soon, a trio of goats came running from the back of the house towards them.

“I’ve missed you,” she said lovingly, as she patted each one on the head, “have you been behaving?”

She looked back at Philip sheepishly and said, “don’t judge. It does get lonely out here.”

Philip struggled to keep the amused look off his face. “No judgement here,” he managed. He sounded unconvincing even to himself.

The goats happily followed Penelope as she led the way back to the cabin. “You’ve been naughty,” she said to them as she walked past the fenced off vegetable patch. A few of the plants had been trampled and there were several half eaten pumpkins strewn across the ground. A hole in the fence showed where they had broken in from.

Penelope pushed the door of the cabin open and stood at the entryway, blocking the goat’s from entering while ushering Philip in. The cabin’s main room was modestly appointed. It was built around a fireplace that was in the centre. There was a hole in the roof above it allowed smoke to rise and a steel pot hung over the fireplace from a hook that was held in place by a small chain. Clay pots were arranged neatly on a lone shelf close to a double doored cupboard. A small oak table and a single chair were set facing the fireplace. Another door led off to the only other room which Philip assumed was the bedroom.

“Did you build all this yourself?” he asked.

“Of course not,” Penelope laughed, “I found this place abandoned and in disrepair and made it my own.”

“It’s nice,” said dryly.

“Thank you for your kind words,” Penelope laughed, “it is modest, I admit, but it’s home.”

She then went to check on her stores while Philip stood by the door awkwardly. She grunted as she held up a wooden bucket.

“Philip,” she said, “I know we just got here, but could I trouble you to get some water?”

Philip sighed. He was looking forward to sprawling on the floor after a long journey but took the bucket from her. Penelope gave him directions to the stream and Philip was about to leave when he remembered something.

“Oh that’s right,” he said, stopping in the doorway, “didn’t you say you had some clothes I could borrow?”

“Ah, I’d thought you’d forgotten,” Penelope said with an amused smirk.

She disappeared into the bedroom and returned with a tunic and a pair of trousers. They were a little tight across the chest and hips, but Philip was happy to not be naked anymore. He set off out of the house in high spirits.

Philip made his way around to the back of the house and walked past a small wheat field. Despite the raggedy scarecrow, he could see that birds had eaten a fair amount of the grain. A lone apple tree stood on one end of the field, and he longed to take a nap under its shade. Resisting the temptation, he carried on past the field and towards the trees. He summoned his courage before leaving the glade and walking back into the forest.

Some of his trepidation left him as he spotted the faded path Penelope described to him and followed it until he heard before he saw the stream. The stream's water was clear and cool, and small fish darted about in it. He resisted the urge to soak his aching feet in the waters and filled the bucket before reluctantly leaving the stream behind and making his way back to the cabin. As he returned, he noticed a plume of smoke rising out of the cabin and suppressed a shudder.

“Chin up,” Philip said out loud, “that just means dinner is getting started.”

As he walked back to the cabin, he looked around the glade. It looked like a peaceful enough place to settle down, though he could not imagine spending twenty odd years alone, goats to speak to.

“I’ve got the water,” he said, as he entered the cabin, keeping his gaze firmly away from the fire.

Penelope had filled the metal pot with smoke meat and a few chopped root vegetables. She took the bucket from Philip and filled the pot.

“You’ve ambitions to become a miller, don’t you?” Penelope asked with a sly look in her eye.

“That’s right,” Philip replied carefully.

“Good,” she smiled.

Philip was set to work grinding wheat with a small millstone while Penelope fussed over the pot while humming a tune. Soon, the aroma from the pot filled the room, and Philip’s stomach began to grumble. He looked up and was suddenly reminded that it had been a long time since he had helped to prepare dinner in a proper house. Dinner was often already waiting for them by the time they got home when he was boarding at Leonard’s house. Before that, there was life at the Academy where meals were prepared by a team of cooks and were taken in a large dining hall.

Soon, the pot began to bubble, filling the room a mouth-watering aroma. Penelope dipped a spoon into the pot to have a taste.

“If only we had some fish bones,” she said, smacking her lips, “is the flour done?”

Philip rubbed a little against his thumb. “I suppose,” he allowed.

“Don’t you look like a proper miller,” Penelope laughed.

“I am a proper miller and I’ve been doing it for years,” Philip sniffed.

“I must say,” Penelope remarked, as she took a handful of flour and mixed it with some water before adding it to the pot, “it’s been a while since I’ve had company for dinner.”

“Does feel like we’re a family, doesn’t it?” Philip said and was surprised by the words that had come out of his own mouth as soon as he’d said them.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Penelope smiled, “it is nice… but I’m far too young to have a son your age.”

Philip gave her a dubious look. “If anything you look too old to be my mother.”

“Oh Philip,” Penelope sighed with mock gravity, “you’ll never win a maiden’s heart like that.”

Philip made a face. “Don’t take this the wrong way and I appreciate your hospitality and willingness to teach me, but I have no intention of winning your heart.”

“I’m not talking about me,” Penelope laughed, “it’s more of general advice.”

She paused before giving Philip a sideways glance. “Is there anyone special in your life?”

Philip shook his head.

“How boring,” Penelope sniffed, “aren’t most boys your age looking to get married?”

“Well, I was an outsider in the last town I lived in, so no father would permit their daughter to get too close to me,” Philip replied, “besides, I was busy with the mill.”

“Well I suppose you will mature at your own pace,” Penelope said, “why, when I was your age, I’d already tumbled with at least half a dozen boys. Highborn and lowborn alike.”

She twirled her hair wistfully as Philip looked at her aghast. “I was quite the catch back then, you know?”

“Please never speak of such things with me again,” Philip spluttered, “that’s obscene!”

“Have you never been intimate with a girl?” Penelope asked, giving Philip a sideways look.

“That’s none of your business!” Philip exclaimed, going red in the face.

“So transparent,” Penelope laughed, “don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.”

She turned away and pretended to mutter to herself. “At nineteen though… could it be he doesn’t know how? Or perhaps he’s unable to… oh my, that would be so sad.”

“When will dinner be ready?” Philip asked, desperately wanting to change the subject.

“Another hour yet,” Penelope said, checking the consistency of the stew.

“I’ll go for a walk then,” Philip said, getting to his feet quickly, “to get my bearings.”

“I won’t eat you, you know,” Penelope laughed as Philip rushed out of the cabin.

Philip left the cabin, red faced. “That shameless woman,” he huffed, drawing curious looks from the goats that were grazing in the glade.

He walked a distance from the cabin before lying down on the soft grass. The sun was low, and birds were singing in the nearby trees. Butterflies chased one another from flower to flower. Just another lazy summer day. The events at the plateau and in the mountains seemed like a distant memory or rather, a nightmare. He couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at how relaxed he felt.

Then, he remembered Penelope’s words about not wracking himself with guilt. Was that the right thing to do? Did the dead care that he felt awful about what he’d done? It would probably be scant consolation to their families. Did that make it alright for him to enjoy life a little?

Philip lost track of time as he mulled the issue over, trying to sort things out in his head when he heard Penelope’s voice. He sat up and saw that she was talking to the goats.

“Ah, there you are,” she said, “dinner’s ready.”

Philip stood up and began making his way back to the cabin with Penelope. “You know, it’s different after all,” she remarked.

“What is?” Philip ventured.

“Talking to real person,” Penelope replied, “it’s not quite the same as talking to goats.”

Philip looked at Penelope as though she’d gone mad. “No, I suppose it’s not,” he allowed.

“We’ll have to harvest the wheat tomorrow,” Penelope said, “and work on expanding the field.”

“I thought I was here to train,” Philip remarked as they entered the cabin, “not to farm.”

“We still need to eat,” Penelope replied, “and I barely produce enough food for one here.”

Philip saw the pot bubbling over the fire and licked his lips. Penelope ladled the stew out and they quickly tucked in.

“Some bread would really hit the spot,” Philip remarked with a full mouth, “but this isn’t half bad.”

“I’ve been away for a while,” Penelope pointed out, “so I didn’t have much to work with.”

The sun sank and soon, night set in. The fireplace bathed the cabin in a warm, cosy light. Penelope sat in the only chair, and Philip was content to sit on the floor with his back against the wall.

“We can get you settled in tomorrow,” Penelope suggested, “and start your training the day after.”

‘You’re in charge,” Philip shrugged, stifling a yawn.

They turned in for the night, and though there were a few nightmares, Philip slept well, finally feeling safe for the first time since he left Melinfield.

The next day, Penelope gave him a brief tour of her farm. As the sun came up in the east, they harvested the wheat and set the stalks out to dry. They then worked on expanding the field, they mended the winter damage on the roof and performed the dozens of other chores that needed doing after being away for more than a week. They were both thoroughly exhausted by the time dusk came.

As the shadows grew longer outside, Philip busied himself grinding the wheat into flour. It would take mere minutes with the water powered mill he was used to, but he probably wouldn’t be able to finish even this small amount they had gathered before he went to bed.

“We got a lot done today,” Penelope remarked, feeling her ankle. It had been feeling better, but the strain of the day’s labour had taken its toll, “we should be able to begin training tomorrow.”

“That’s good,” Philip remarked absently. Truth be told, he wasn’t particularly looking forward to having to conjure and manipulate fire. He tried looking at the cooking fire in the middle of the room but found that he could not even think about it without feeling sick and wondered how he would fare the next day.