Serenity rose from the water and smiled at Kelton. Her beauty drew him into the water. Ignoring the flood over the tops of his boots he pursued his desire. Her eyes sparkled, reflecting the soft morning sun as it danced across the surface of the pond. He heard his name from her lips, a song that dissolved into his soul. Her welcoming arms reached out to him, then the sun's light pulled him from his dream.

Kelton sat up, his body begging for more and his mind a mush of desire. It had been five days since he left Juno. Touching his fingertips to his lips, he remembered the intimacy of his first kiss. He shook his head, trying to force the jumbled thoughts from his mind. Serenity, Juno, they were both in the past. It was the persistent dream that needed to go. He stood, throwing off his blanket, letting the brisk early winter air clear his mind.

"No more!" Kelton yelled at the world, though he could feel no one near.

Kelton felt something fly by his head and thump into the tree behind. His eyes followed the sound. A spear, no longer than an arm and thinner than any he had ever seen, was embedded in the tree. There were bird feathers attached to the exposed end. He was stunned, contemplating the speed it must have traveled to drive so deeply into the wood and being of such small weight.

"Oh! There will be more," a deep voice shouted. Kelton hit the ground and panic spread. The voice was near, yet he still felt no one. The Brethren had found him. "You are a fool to travel here. I will waste your saved one." The man's words confused Kelton

Another thin spear dug itself into the tree, nearer where Kelton's head now lay. His fear thickened as he crawled to his pack and drew his sword with a shaking hand. If the Brethren could throw such things, he had little hope of surviving the morning. Running would only make his back an easy target. He was going to die and so was his saved one. Rebecca? The Brother must have meant Rebecca. The chase had been a waste. His eyes moistened at the thought of one of those spears embedded in her chest.

"Just me," Kelton shouted. "Not her." His request was met with silence. "Please, just me," he begged. All he had done was for naught. He had killed to right things, and still, the world remained ruined. His stomach churned. He dropped his sword and stood to meet his executioner.

"No one else. Just me," Kelton begged again. He spread his hands wide, palms toward where the voice had come from. More silence. "I am not Kushiel's Answer. My death will prove it. You need not hurt anyone else."

"You are not of the Brethren," the voice said. It was half statement, half question.

"I am nothing," Kelton said.

"You are a mere boy." All statement. A figure rose from behind a bush, farther away than Kelton had imagined he could be. There must be others. No one could embed such a small spear into a tree from that distance. He looked about in dismay, wondering where the death thrust would come.

"Are we...are we agreed?" Kelton stammered as the figure cautiously approached. The man was not in white robes.

"Do you wish to kill me?" the man asked. His voice had become calmer, a trace of humor in it.

"No."

"Then we will agree not to kill each other." The man had the longest mustache Kelton had ever seen. It was brown dusted with gray, like his hair. Both halves traveled down past his chin nearly to this chest. The ends were wrapped in beads making them move unnaturally as one strand of hair each. They bounced against him as he walked. "Lower your arms, boy."

"You are not a Brother," Kelton realized out loud. He looked around for the others he knew must exist.

"You can drop your arms," the man repeated. He placed a long curved piece of wood over his shoulder. A length of twine was tightly stretched between the ends. Kelton dropped his arms and took a step back when the man drew a small blade from a sheath on his belt.

"There are others?" Kelton asked.

"Possibly." The man shrugged his shoulders and walked past Kelton, to the tree that held the two spears. "You surprised me. No reason why other unseen couldn't. You know of more about?" There was a large sheath of leather strapped to the man's back. There were more of his thin spears sticking out of the top, maybe a dozen.

"Nay." Kelton shook his head. The man used his blade to cut out the tip of his spear from the tree. Curiosity overrode Kelton's fear. He moved closer to get a better view of the spear. Its tip was of barbed metal, as one would expect of a fish hook.

"Then, given the evidence, we must assume we are the only unseen here." The man put the spear with the others in the sheath. It was a practiced move as if his hand instinctively knew where the opening of the sheath lay on his back. "We both know there are no normals about, do we not?" He paused and looked at Kelton.

"I sense no one," Kelton agreed. The man smiled and went to work on the second spear. It was deeper in the wood than the first, causing him to dig deeper. "You must have great strength."

"No more than any other man."

"I know no man who can throw such a spear the distance you have. It is knuckle-deep in the tree," Kelton said. The man stopped his efforts and began laughing.

"You think me a fool?" Kelton asked. He knew the laughter was at his expense. Fear, curiosity, and anger were a strange mix. The man struggled to regain control of his laughter, waving his hand at Kelton as he shook his head.

"I mean nothing by it. You again caught me unprepared." The man's chuckling ebbed. "Your deduction is not without merit, given your experience." He sat down, ignoring the spear still stuck in the tree and looked at Kelton. "I had a son long ago. Like all babes, he fed on his mother's teat." The man smiled at his memory. "One day, I picked him up when I was shirtless. His lips latched onto my teat thinking a meal awaited. I did not think him a fool for it." Kelton smiled at the image. He sat down as well. "A babe can suck hard when they're hungry. Had a painful laugh at that one."

"Than you did not throw the spear," Kelton deduced. The fear and anger disappeared, and only curiosity remained.

"Inference?" The man's eyes widened. "No, my boy, I do not think you a fool at all." He reached behind him and pulled out one of his spears and handed it to Kelton. "This is a special type of spear. It is called an arrow. Notice the notch on the back near the feathers." Kelton turned the arrow about, feeling its weight and examining the slot carved in the rear of the wooden shaft. It was way too light to be thrown far.

"It is propelled by a bow such as this," the man continued, pulling the curved wood from his back. He handed it to Kelton. Kelton examined the bow closely, surprised at the tightness of the twine and the smoothness of the wood. He tested the arrows notch in the twine, though the rest of the functionality eluded him. The man smiled as he turned the arrow about and laid it against the bow, the notch still in the twine.

"Hold the bow tight," the man said. Kelton used both hands to steady the wood across his lap as the man pulled the string back a short way and released. The arrow flew off the bow and traveled a body's length before it skidded to a stop on the ground, burying itself under some fallen leaves.

"And if it's pulled harder...," Kelton said, his smile growing as the mechanics of the bow became apparent.

"Knuckle-deep in a tree," the man completed Kelton's words, sharing his smile. The man rose and retrieved the arrow. Kelton stood and held the bow parallel to the ground and pulled the twine. It took some strength to pull it far, for the wood resisted bending.

"Up and down," the man instructed, turning the bow perpendicular in Kelton's hands. He moved Kelton's left hand to the center of the wood and re-notched the arrow. The other end of the arrow was laid across the fingers of his hand. Instinctively, Kelton grasped the twine where it met the arrow. "Tips of your fingers." The man unwrapped Kelton's hand from the twine and guided two of his fingers, one above and one below the notch. He lifted Kelton's arms and pointed at a thick tree a few wagon lengths away. "Pull easy. Doesn't take much to go that far. Aim along the arrow with your eyes, and let go."

The arrow flew to the left of the tree, nicking the bark and losing itself in the foliage behind. Kelton was amazed. It took almost no effort, and the spear moved with more velocity than he expected.

"The penalty of missing is that must search for the arrow," the man said. "I'm terrible at constructing them, and there are no skilled weaponsmiths in Aragonia." Kelton handed over the bow and ran to retrieve the arrow. The ramifications of the weapon and the words of the man were filling his mind. A hundred questions were swirling on his tongue. It was difficult to locate the arrow which gave him time to settle his thoughts and develop a strategy to gather information without sounding overwhelming.

The man was holding Kelton's sword when he returned. Kelton slowed, his mind registering the disadvantage, a sword against a bowless arrow. His pack lay empty, its contents poured out on the ground. Kelton's stomach knotted.

"You trust too quickly," the man said. He smiled and deftly flipped the sword in the air, catching the bladed side in hand, the hilt pointing toward Kelton.

"I have been told that," Kelton sighed. He traded the arrow for the sword as the tension faded. "They say it will be the death of me."

"They?"

Kelton was about to answer with names but thought better of it. A little less trust was in order. He smiled and replied, "Friends." The man winked his eye and smiled back.

"You can call me Rolic." He held his hand forward.

"Kelton." They grabbed each other's wrists in formal greeting.

"It is rare for an unseen to see its first winter. I'd like to know your story," Rolic said. He had returned to his embedded arrow and began digging again.

"It is rarer still for one to grow to your age," Kelton returned. He noticed Rolic wasn't interested in putting Kelton's belongings back in the pack. It was all he owned, so he began doing it himself.

"True, but I'm not wearing a scar down my face and claiming not to be Kushiel's Answer. Your story must be more interesting."

"Never seen anything like that bow and those arrows. My life must be boring to one such as you." Rolic grunted as he finally pulled the arrow from the tree. "Besides, I didn't dump your possessions on the ground." Kelton continued putting his gear back into the pack with exaggerated emphasis.

"Sorry. I find trust harder to come by. Do you think a warm meal would make up for the intrusion?" Kelton looked up at Rolic. "You seem to be running low on food there."

"I can hunt."

"So can I," Rolic said holding forth his bow. Kelton's eyes widened at the thought. The idea of not having to be close to game to bring it down was intriguing. He wondered how long it would take to empty the world of deer with such a weapon.

"A warm meal then," Kelton agreed. Rolic nodded and waited for Kelton to finish packing his gear.

"You thought I was a Brother," Kelton said as he followed Rolic through the trees.

"As did you. Not used to meeting another Unseen not wearing white robes."

"You spoke liked you had dealt with the Brethren before. What did you mean by 'saved one'?" Rolic chuckled at the question.

"What did you mean by 'Just me. Not her'?"

"Not trusting is difficult," Kelton said, letting out a long breath. It was frustrating. He had a pile of questions backed up and yet felt the fool if he answered any first. Stupidity held in place by intelligence.

"Trust is earned, and that takes time, my boy. Though my words should ring hollow to you, I mean you no harm. In fact, I find the idea of conversation enchanting."

"You must trust me some," Kelton said. "I am at your back and posses a sword."

"True. It is my secrets that I am not willing to part with yet." Rolic stopped and turned toward Kelton. "We did agree not to kill each other." His smile was large.

"Then you dumped my pack on the ground." Kelton smiled back.

"I had to see if you possessed something to contradict your words." Rolic shrugged. "As it stands, I was in error, though it took the search to reveal that. Now I'll cook you a meal to make amends. Am I forgiven?"

"Aye, though you could have helped me clean it up." Rolic laughed and slapped his hand on Kelton's shoulder as if they were long friends.

"It has been awhile since I've had a guest. My manners are rusty and will hopefully improve with practice." Rolic turned back around and started walking again. "We have a bit of travel ahead. If you're not in a hurry, you may wish to spend a night or two."

"No hurry at all," Kelton said. Death could wait a few days.

"Interesting," Rolic said, adding a chuckle. Kelton cringed at his unintentional release of more information, as minor as it was. It was difficult not trusting someone.

Kelton and Rolic stopped at a stream midday to rest and refill their waterskins. The talk had been light, mostly about the weather since Kelton was practicing non-trust and Rolic gave nothing for free. The few questions Kelton attempted were deflected with counter questions. He gave up and decided it wasn't the time.

"Where are we headed?" Kelton asked. Not that it mattered much. Kelton was headed in a northerly direction, and that was mostly out of habit now. He had no idea of his final destination, only a vague idea that he should try to get on a ship. Hard to do with no money or real knowledge of how a city worked.

"A place I call home," Rolic replied. "I was planning to lead you elsewhere, but now I think you're worth the risk. Doubt you could lead anyone back to it."

"I'm pretty good in the woods," Kelton advised. "Not that I would lead anyone anywhere, but finding my way to where I have already been is easy."

"So, you spent a lot of time in the woods," Rolic said with that smirk of his. Kelton rolled his eyes as more information was inadvertently divulged.

"I am not good at this game."

"Don't fret. You'll soon have the run of my place. You'll learn more from it than I learned from the contents of your pack."

"That's if it's really your place."

"Good thinking," Rolic said, his smirk persisting. "Maybe I'm leading you toward your doom."

"If you wished me dead, I'd long ago have an arrow in my chest."

"Oh, it wouldn't still be in your chest." Rolic shook his head, his humor obvious. "I'd have retrieved it as soon as you breathed your last." Kelton laughed.

"Trust is all I have left," Kelton said. "That and a promise of a warm meal."

"And strong drink," Rolic added as he rose. Kelton followed, and they began moving through the forest again. By habit, Kelton continued to log any landmarks they passed in his mind. Streams, large felled trees, open grasslands, and odd looking boulders. Even the undulation of the land itself was helpful. The sun was less useful at midday, but he was sure they were still holding to a northeasterly direction.

"It isn't much, but it is home," Rolic said as he pointed to a rocky hillside. The sun was three quarters through its day's travel as they approached. The deciduous trees had thinned, and sparse evergreens had begun to take over. Kelton saw no structure ahead.

"I see nothing."

"As it should be," Rolic said. "I'm sure you, of all people, can understand my desire for privacy. We are far from any village, and the hunting is better away from here, in the thicker parts of the forest."

"Must be lonely."

"Do we have a choice?" Rolic asked. Kelton thought of the danger that followed him. It put anyone around him at risk.

"I guess not," Kelton replied. It saddened him. There was a hopeless dream of normalcy that still flittered in his mind. Rolic was crushing the last vestiges of it.

"I still visit a tavern or two now and again. Gather supplies and what not. That's where I was headed when I ran across you." They started up the hillside, Kelton still oblivious to the destination.

"Are there more like us?"

"You're the first non-Brethren unseen I have run into," Rolic admitted. "I'm still curious about how you've survived."

"Probably not much different than your own life."

"I assure you," Rolic said as he slowed and turned. "Our lives are very different. Mine is fraught with bad choices and piles of regret. You, on the other hand, have had barely enough time to upset a flea."

"I've upset more than a flea, sir," Kelton said quickly. The Brethren and the King's Own were hunting him. Surely that ranked him some respect in the small world of the Unseen. "Problems find me, and I always make the wrong choices. Or so I'm told."

"But they are your choices," Rolic said with a smile. Kelton nodded and smiled back. There was some respect in Rolic's eyes. "Wrong or right." Rolic shrugged. "It only matters that you own them." He turned and continued up the hill. Rolic was right. They were his choices, the only freedom the world allowed. Bad or good, he would make most of them the same way if he had to do it over again. Surely, Rebecca and her family were worth one Brother.

The ground leveled out before the top and Rolic turned to the left. He followed a ledge and moved behind a large evergreen. Hidden behind the pine was an opening in the rock. A cave large enough for two men to enter abreast.

"You live in a cave?" Kelton asked though it was apparent.

"It has served me well," Rolic said as he moved into the darkness. A thick brown fir built from many smaller ones blocked the entrance not more than three paces inside. He pushed it aside and entered. Kelton followed and was met by dark shapes that disappeared into the blackness once the heavy fir flopped back. He stood still as Rolic continued to move forward, well versed in the layout of his home.

Rolic walked toward a dull red glow that Kelton's eyes were adjusting too. Rolic threw something heavy on top and sparks jumped from the bed of coals inside a slowly appearing stone hearth. Flames crawled along the new log, and Rolic added another. The room materialized in a mix of firelight and improving night vision.

"You are not from Aragonia," Kelton said as his mind struggled to digest what he was seeing.

"Nope, not a fool at all," Rolic said, his chuckle echoing off the rock walls.