Over the next week, each nobleman within a day's ride learned of Silver's return when they found that the change from their pocket was missing or that a few cattle from their thousands had disappeared. In an exceptionally daring move, he even single handedly helped reclaim excess taxes claimed by the local baron.

The silver-eyed thief was determined to repay the villagers' kindness after their generous feast. Hints of winter were already tickling the morning air, and the thought of even one villager starving due to his return kept the Guardian up at night.

Presented with the task of preparing and storing winter meat, the village of Rynnlee once again came to life, but the villagers' adulations did not pierce the emptiness Silver felt inside. 'The hole can't be filled,' he told himself. 'Why do you keep trying?'

When he was not helping the poor, Silver spent hours meditating in his house, avoiding the ominous cracked door that plagued him. When ever he would go to examine the room, he would stop a few steps short as his chest tightened and then find any excuse to delay his task. The room both called him and taunted him: his own personal ghost.

One afternoon after making his rounds, Silver decidedly headed for the door to face the demon. He touched the door handle. The blood beat in his head and pounded in his heart. Just as he began to push his other hand against the wood, someone knocked at his front door.

Silver released the handle, troubled by the interruption. 'It must be a sign.' Effortlessly swinging open the front door, Silver found a startled 10-year-old boy on the step. His small green eyes flashed with sudden fear before regaining composure. His sandy red hair was caked with dirt as was his face. Silver wondered later if this was his general state of uncleanliness or if it was for dramatic effect.

"Do you have any money for the poor and ill-treated?" the boy asked pitifully, his green eyes as large a saucers.

'He seems well rehearsed' "I do," Silver responded slowly, "but I am not sure you are either poor or ill-treated."

The boy was quick to defend himself. "Oh, but I am, sir! My poor mother searches through the refuse of others to find food, and my father beats us both soundly when his belly is not full…"

"Where do you live, boy?" Silver asked in disbelief. He had seen all of the children in the village because every proud father and doting mother had introduced him to their pride and joy. This boy did have something familiar about him. He just could not place it.

"Oh, I live just down the road…" the boy pointed. His lack of commitment to a fixed spot was evident.

'He's lying,' Silver knew the signs too well. "I know everyone who lives on this road. Who is your father?"

The boy wrapped his arms around himself and stammered. "Uh, John of Bramblebriar."

"I do not know anyone by that name." Silver smirked beneath his hood. The boy's action triggered his memory.

Silver recalled the small figure in the woods huddled up with a blanket that he had seen just a week before. Returning that following morning, the Guardian had found the camp abandoned and the boy nowhere in sight. After questioning the villagers, it seemed no one knew anything about the feral child in the woods.

"Are you sure you don't live out in the forest?" The Guardian tilted is head curiously.

"What? No sir!" The boy was quick to defend himself. "I am a respectable child."

'Respectable but with a drunk father? Hm.' Out loud he grunted, "I see. Well then, most respected child..."

Silver reached to his belt for a coin to give the urchin.

The boy shifted uncomfortably as fear flashed across his face. "Uh, sir… I must go. I think I hear my father calling." The boy turned to run.

Silver realized the boy thought he was reaching for a knife. "Wait a moment," Silver said firmly.

The boy, frightened, stopped dead in his tracks. Silver reached forward and pressed the coin into the boy's hand.

"I would not want to be responsible for another of your father's sound beatings."

The boy's entire body relaxed as he looked back and brandished a toothy smile. "Much obliged to you, sir." With that, he ran off into the street with a wave.

"Well, wasn't he just cute?" a woman's voice said with a hint of sarcasm.

Silver turned to see Sage leaning against the outer wall of his house. 'I had hoped my warning would have scared her off. She is more determined than I thought.'

"Sage," he said with a pleasantness that surprised him. "I didn't see you."

"I just wanted to bring you a little present. I figured I would wait until everyone else's gifts had been presented. I bring you stew."

Sage pushed off the wall and thrust the pot towards Silver. The soft curls in her hair flitted in the breeze. He had yet to see her hair pinned up like most other women, but he wouldn't have changed it for anything.

In her hands Sage held the pot with a determined grasp. Silver noticed with interest that her hands were smooth and pale, not what one would expect of a dish-washing barmaid.

"The stew needs a little heating up, but if you have not eaten it will fill you up. I could heat it up for you…that is, if you invite me in." Sage winked.

After realizing he had been staring dumbly, Silver cleared his throat. "Oh excuse me, come in. Please do not think me rude for not offering before..."

"I think your manners are of a different sort," Sage taunted. "I am sure somewhere deep down you are a gentleman." As she walked toward him, Silver could smell the stew mixed with her sweet scent. It was too much to resist. He stepped aside and allowed her to pass inside.

Entering the house, Sage glanced about the room. She could not hide her look of surprise at the lack of general contents. "Do all men live like this without a woman to advise them?" She paused and considered her own question. "But then again you have only been here a week. I suppose you have plenty of time to decorate once you are settled."

Silver ignored her, pulling out the rod overhanging the fire so Sage could hang her pot. She slipped the pot's handle over the rod and placed it over the fire.

Sage tried again, changing course completely. "You know, I have not told you this yet, but I feel honored to have finally met you. I had heard so much about you from the other villagers. Ah, you are the infamous Silver. I just cannot get over it." Sage smiled. The lilt in her voice made her sound almost like a songbird.

"Did they tell you I nearly got them all killed?" he asked harshly.

The beautiful woman was taken aback. "That must have slipped their memories," Sage admitted. She turned quietly back to the stew.

The Guardian wanted to kick himself for his outburst. 'She's trying to make conversation. I should at least make an effort.' "When did you move here?" Silver asked cautiously.

"I moved here shortly after you left, I believe. Around three years, give or take. I am originally from across the border in the kingdom of Lakyle, but between you and me, things are not doing so well there."

Silver shrugged. He had been to Lakyle within the past month, but he felt no need to comment on the political stability of her homeland. She would just be bored hearing my view of the situation. Silver stared at his guest. She had finished stirring the stew and now stood uncomfortably in the center of the room, picking imaginary dirt from below her fingernails.

The lady glanced around and sighed dramatically. Silver raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"I see you don't value cleanliness," she said with a laugh. "This place is dustier than the inn's upper room before Lily and I cleaned it out a while back."

Silver pulled a chair from the table and sat down. "I am not here much and that makes keeping a house slightly difficult. Anyway, I suppose a little dust never hurt anyone."

After not being offered a chair, Sage heaved another sigh, returned to the fire and gave the stew a good stir. "This is more than just a little dirt, Silver. I can clean it up for you if you like."

Without another word, she pulled out a cloth from the apron tied around her waist and began to dust off the mantle. She went on, "In Lakyle things would never be able to get so dingy. Why, not even my brothers…" Silver watched her carefully as she continued to the table and the window sill, periodically stopping to mix the stew. He noted her steady migration towards the forbidden cracked door. His panic reached its peak when she reached for its handle. "…but that was only once of course."

"Stop!" Silver shouted, racing in front of her to block the door. Only barely had his hood stayed in place from the rush. "You cannot go in there."

Sage laughed. "You must be joking. I have seen dirty rooms. I have four brothers! Nothing in there is going to shock me." She tried to push her way past him, but he forcefully grabbed her shoulders.

"My room is the other one. If you wish to clean there, be my guest, but you cannot go in here." His back was straight and his voice like steel. Every muscle in his body tensed as he barred her path.

Sage realized his determination, and wishing to avoid his anger, she backed away from the door. Releasing herself from his grip, the woman's smile faded. "The stew is most likely hot by now." She bundled her apron around her hand and reached for the bar to remove the pot. At just that moment, a log in the fire split and collapsed amid the flames. A rouge spark landed on a section of Sage's hand which her apron did not shield. Sage screamed, jerking her hand away from the flames.

With his cat-like reflexes, Silver set Sage into a chair, contained the fire, and took the stew to the table.

"Are you alright?" he asked her tenderly. He first examined her skirt and apron. They were unsinged. Her hand, however, was bright red and beginning to blister.

"I think I will be fine. It scared me more than anything." Sage told him as she inspected her wound.

"I will be right back." Silver exited, hurrying into his room. He rifled through his pack, searching intently for something to soothe.

In spite of her previous comment, Sage mumbled under her breath "Nothing like leaving a lady in distress to bleed out. What can he be doing?" Watching anxiously, she anticipated Silver's return. After a short wait, Silver entered the room with a small vial in his hand. It glowed like fire or pure light, Sage could not decide. Whatever it was, it was unlike anything she had ever seen.

"What is that?" Sage asked cautiously.

Silver did not answer. He unstopped the vial and let one drop of the potion land on the lady's newly formed blister. They stared for a moment.

"What's supposed to happen?" Sage asked, holding her hand out. A tinge of doubt crept into Sage's thoughts.

"Just wait…"

"Nothing's happening…Oh wait! It's starting to tingle." A panic overtook Sage as the blister began to glow.