Juno stepped over the fallen tree and hurried her pace to catch up to the others. It had been a busy morning with the goodbye to Floren and her insistant pestering about Serenity. It was as if she had no trust in Juno's ability to juggle Kelton and duty. Juno had no such reservations. Duty would come first - as long as it didn't interfere with love. It was not what Juno said to her, but Kelton needed Floren to manage the whispering way, so Juno lied. There had been wet eyes as they parted, a sign that all things considered, they cherished each other.

The night had also not gone as smoothly as Juno desired. The tavern had filled to overflowing, disallowing a private sanctuary from the world. They shared one of the tiny rooms with two others. At least they were in each other's arms, if not joined in the way they truly desired. Juno convinced herself it was best that way. She imagined she needed more time between what had once been demanded and now desired. At least, that is what she told herself. It needed to be as different as night is from the day.

"It is hard going," Sanlina said as she struggled to match Juno's pace.

"Aye," Juno agreed. "Kelton asked if he should slow for us, but I was a fool and answered nay." She shared a sympathetic smile with Sanlina.

"Best if this is ended sooner than later," Sanlina said. She looked down at her skirts. "Though we should think of better dress if we are to match their steps."

"Something near to trousers," Juno agreed with a nod. "Kelton told me of his warrior princess, and the skirts she wore." She drew her finger down the side of her skirt. "Sliced to free movement."

"Mayhap, we should learn the sword as well," Sanlina said. "I fear there will be no quarter given any who travel with him."

"Warriors with breasts," Juno said, adding a chuckle. "It would be a surprise to those who thought the cursed an easy ending."

"Will he allow such a thing?"

"Aye, if I ask him," Juno said without reservation. He would slay the world if it were her wish. And she would attempt the same if it was his desire.

"Then I wish to be a warrior," Sanlina said. "If for no other purpose, then to stick those who call me cursed." She thrust her hand forward as if it held a blade. "Or, mayhap, to slow Serenity if she continues to thrust her parts at him."

"I worry more for her," Juno said. "Her road is a hard one. Even if he grows in her heart, she will not grow in his."

"You need to bed him," Sanlina whispered. It sounded as both warning and instruction.

"When it is right," Juno said. She looked around, her hand indicating the forest that lay before them. "Not in this dirt where all others are aware."

"Soon," Sanlina argued.

"Between us, it is not required," Juno said. "Leave it be for now." She moved ahead, leaving Sanlina behind. The talk had made her desire to be near Kelton, so she hurried to make it so.

"Treeland, they call themselves," O'fan said. "It is larger than some and on a crossroad. Many see things our way, but some may not. It is the visitors I worry about the most. Impossible to know their leanings with the comings and goings."

The knowing had Kelton looking back and seeing Juno approach. He smiled at her before returning his attention to O'fan. "We have this day to think on it. Tomorrow, on your words, we will either approach or avoid."

"Aye, sire," O'fan said. "I will have a few move ahead and smell it out." Kelton nodded as O'fan took off and was soon replaced by Juno at his side.

"A village a day ahead offers some respite from the trees," Kelton told her. "O'fan is measuring the risk."

"Sanlina and I have thought on your Yanda's skirts," Juno said. "If we stop, some needle and thread could be of use." She smoothed her skirts with her palms. "It is hard when they get tangled in the twigs."

"Stop or not, O'fan can acquire such a thing. I'll see to it."

"I am sure Serenity is equally hindered," Juno said.

"Aye, and suffering twice as much," Kelton said with a chuckle.

"You did not tell me of her beauty."

"Not of late, though I must have when we first met."

"So, you find her beautiful?"

The question smelled like a trap. Juno was playing with Kelton, a game he found enjoyable. "My eyes see as most men's do. She is not unpleasant to look upon."

"More beautiful than I?"

Kelton grinned as he lifted a branch out of the way so Juno could walk under unhindered. "It is not a fair comparison," He remembered a verse from one of the books he had seen in the library. A passage he would have never thought worthy of cluttering his mind. Now, they were what he needed. "It is like comparing the sky to a flower."

"And which am I?" Juno asked. Kelton could see her struggling not to smile. She enjoyed the game as well.

"You are the sky, my love," Kelton replied. "Unlike the flower, your beauty is everlasting. Glowing stars to guide my night, and a blue heaven whose beauty returns undiminished each day." He shook his head. "The poor flower will lose its color and wither in time, exposing its many thorns."

"Your words are sweet honey," Juno said, her smile growing. The hours spent in the library were worth more and more each day. Perhaps war tactics were the weakest of lessons.

Kelton took Juno's hand and helped her as they stepped down a steep waist-high cliff. She was steady enough and needed no assistance, but he enjoyed his hand in hers. In truth, she was helping him suffer through what was to come. Imagined horrors were less daunting when such a woman stood next to him.

"I do wish there were no troubles hindering us," Kelton said as they continued. The trail O'fan had chosen was challenging in places but widened when the ground flattened, allowing a pause in the struggles. As much game trail as it was human. "In time, I see a home with you in it. Mayhap, a few little ones running about, causing us havoc. A place where..." Kelton stopped when he realized Juno had slowed. He turned to find her smile had vanished.

"There is something you do not know," Juno said, her voice quiet as if some ominous secret filled her heart.

"There is much I do not know," Kelton admitted. He smiled and retook her hand. "But there are some things I do." He turned and continued on the trail, Juno at his side. The words were for no others, so it was best to keep the pace between those who lead and followed. "Serenity wished to separate us and spoke of the Darny Leaf." Juno steps slowed again, so Kelton pulled her closer. "I spoke with Sanlina this morn. It matters not."

"Your dreams..." Juno began.

"My dreams have you in them," Kelton said, then shrugged his shoulders. "And little ones. This thing we do will orphan many. Would we not be a blessing to those who lost all?"

"Sanlina told you?" Juno said, her smile returning, breaking through tearful eyes. He could see the relief there.

"She does not keep her thoughts secret," Kelton said, nodding his head. "I have been well warned to keep my parts far from Serenity if I wish to keep them."

Juno laughed - a joyful sound that made the day worth living.

"She is a good friend," Juno said as she wrapped her arm tightly around Kelton's. She leaned into him, making it difficult to traverse the path. A problem he gladly dealt with.

Gossamer cradled his mug as he sought to be invisible among the many patrons. Meal and drink would cost since he had no desire to repeat what happened in the last tavern. The Brothers were traveling in numbers, hunting for those who supported Kelton. There were many rumors on the subject, distorted by the speaker's leanings, but always sharing the same core. A storm was coming, and Gossamer preferred to be next to Kelton when it arrived.

"He was through here the day past," a woman at the next table said.

"And you know this how?" Her companion asked.

"It is what I heard," she responded with confidence. "He moves through the trees, avoiding the roads. It is why there is no sign of the Brethren near. Fear him, they do."

"Bah, it is he who fears them. If not, why does he harden his travels? Slink and hide; it is the coward's way."

The woman laughed. "So brave be you. If the Answer were here, your words and knees would fumble."

Gossamer wasn't interested in the debate, just the location. He knew he was getting closer to Kelton, yet the absolute direction eluded him. It would be his luck to have passed him by. The woman admitted it was second-hand information, so he could only add it to the other rumors and hope the aggregate would produce some semblance of truth.

"Gossamer?" a man asked, breaking into Gossamer's thoughts. Gossamer cringed as he turned and looked at the tavern owner. He had only been here once before, two - maybe - three winters ago.

"Aye," Gossamer replied after discounting a brief thought of denying his name. A feeble argument was not what he desired.

"It is you," the owner said. He was a short man with one of those smiles that crinkled the edges of his eyes. It was easier to deny a young one than ignore a crinkling smile. "Why did you not come to me? There is still talk of your skill here, after what, two winters."

"I am only resting..."

"You must share your stories," the owner interrupted, his pleasure of Gossamer's discovery apparent. His voice gathered the attention of those who sat close. "That tale you told of the old woman - I still laugh from time to time when something ignites its memory."

"A teller?" the woman who Gossamer had first overheard interjected.

"Aye, one of the best," the owner said, overriding Gossamer's weak attempt at quieting the discussion. "You must share your wit again." He looked around and acquired his patron's agreement. "A meal and a bed, as before. And all the coin that's thrown to you." There was a chorus of those who promised to toss Gossamer a few.

Gossamer thought of walking out, yet he could not bear to disappoint a willing audience. He knew it was ego, but being desired for his skill had a pull he could not ignore.

"Aye, a meal and a refill, my good man," Gossamer said, displaying his empty mug as he stood. There was a small platform to the left of the hearth, the one he had spoken from before. A cheer went up, and the owner took his mug for replenishment. Those crinkles in the tender's eyes doubled - a worthy prize as well.

Gossamer worked his way through the tables, lifting his pack above heads as many patted his back in thanks. At the owner's direction, a boy ran from the tavern to gather others who desire stories - and have coin to spare. It was a system that worked well for both the teller and the owner.

The crowd was friendly enough; grand smiles greeted him as he rose atop the platform. Someone lifted a chair to him after he placed his pack down. A small table was added for his approaching ale. For a moment, all that was happening in the world faded. Gossamer didn't have to work for attention, and he found that a pleasant gift. Storytelling was his calling, and he answered it.

Gossamer was finishing his third tale, a romance of sorts, about a woman who fancied a man, who fancied another woman, who fancied another man, who fancied the first woman. None knew the whims of the others, which always generated laughter and then created joy when it unraveled, and all found who they were meant to be with. It was a satisfying tale built on Gossamer's thoughts around Juno, Kelton, and his first infatuation - Serenity. It was his forth telling of the story, and it again found willing hearts, especially among the young men and women whose own fixations ruled their lives.

It was during the last moments of the tale when the strangers entered. Gossamer's stomach twisted as the new patrons separated oddly and moved to seats that surrounded the tavern, finding chairs that gave them easy access to each section of the room. Each ignored the other though they entered as one. It smelled of the same tactics used before. He almost lost his thoughts and botched the tale, yet he reestablished his thoughts and finished with as much luster as he could manage.

The gratitude was instant, and coppers flew onto the platform. Gossamer tried to calm the crowd and inform them of it being the last. He meant to skip the promised meal and move south in hopes he could put distance between him and the tavern. The idea of finding Kelton was once again paramount in his mind. The risks of staying were too great.

"Another," a man yelled and threw a handful of coppers on the platform. His call was echoed by many. The owner was approaching with another mug of ale, all smiles since there was nary an empty seat in the house. His workers were hustling as fast as possible, gathering coin and delivering food and drink—a good night from the owner's eyes.

"I must rest some," Gossamer said quietly to the owner. It seemed a better tact than telling him he meant to leave.

"One more, good sir," the owner said, his crinkles aflame with joy. "Is the coin not enough?" He looked down at the platform where a week's worth of earnings lay.

"A break, for a moment only," Gossamer lied. His eyes spotted the Brother, a tall man with his head and robes hidden in a cloak, moving from the door to the back. "My voice will falter if I continue without a stall." The Brother sat down, his back to the room, and shooed away a boy who queried his food and drink desires.

"Your eyes have fear in them," the owner whispered, his crinkles fading like the end of a sunset.

"The Brethren are here," Gossamer whispered back, then smiled as if the conversation was pleasing. Best if the crowd remained unaware. He wondered how many more were outside. Perhaps leaving wasn't an option.

"Here for you?"

"Nay," Gossamer said, then thought better of it. "Aye, in a way. They mean to find those unloyal. It has happened before."

The owner placed the mug on the table. "Do as you must." His crinkles returned, though this time, they were weak and held no honesty. He turned and walked away, ignoring any requests from his patrons as he retreated to the rear.

"I must rest awhile," Gossamer announced. "I shall return after a short..."

"One more," a patron yelled. It was echoed by those who were with her, then a chorus ignited. The Brother made no move, and his soldiers became more evident by their immobility. They all stared at Gossamer, expressionless.

"A rest for my voice," Gossamer insisted as he began to gather his pack.

"A short tale one then," one in the crowd yelled. "The story of the Answer." Gossamer cringed, his hands slowed their gathering as he prayed that he could disappear.

"Aye, the Answer," others added.

Gossamer dropped his pack and stood, his hands calling for silence. "Mayhap, another tale," he called out. "I know of..."

"Why not the Answer?" The voice was deep and loud, echoing from the back of the room. The authority in it silenced most. The Brother still lacked all movement, never turning to face the room. His confidence emanated an aura of fear.

Gossamer clasped his hands to stop the shaking. "It is a forbidden fable. I leave such things to the King and Brethren as all should." Smiles began to disappear and faces shrunk down, wishing to disappear as well. It took little time for most to realize that something was amiss.

"Yet some call for it," the dark voice said. "Mayhap, this village doesn't kneel to the Goddess."

"It is only the ale, your Eminence," Gossamer said. The honorific tore through the crowd. Gossamer no longer had the only shaking hands. "We all bow to the Goddess here."

"All?" the Brother asked rhetorically, never turning so Gossamer could gauge his anger. "I find the fable leads many astray. It is told many ways, each blasphemy building on the last. I blame the one who raised the red-haired demon. An old man - a storyteller by trade." The last said with a conviction that chilled Gossamer's blood. "Do you know that portion of the tale, old man?"

Gossamer face wrinkled of its own accord. Fear ran along his spine and settled in his stomach like logs bouncing in the rapids. There would be no seeing Kelton again. He had failed, trusting the wrong soul. Rolic had turned on him, the most likely cause of such perfect knowledge. Gossamer lifted his pack from the floor, placing it on the table. His hand sought the sword hidden in Joycelyn's sheath.

"Aye," Gossamer thundered. "I know all of that part of the tale." Fear vanished as he accepted his end. If he could not see Kelton again, then he would feed Kelton's anger. His life was always for Kelton, and it would not change now. "You and your ilk fear what comes. I see it all your doings."

Gossamer drew his sword from the pack, ignoring the crowd's gasps as they struggled to clear away from him. "Come, foul beast. Come kill the one who cared for the boy, and ignite a wave of anger in the man that will drown your kind." It came out as a growl, infused with hatred. If he were going to die, it would be on his terms - not tied to some post.

"Captain!" the Brother commanded.

A short, stout man rose, an odd smile adorning his lips. "My sorrows, sire. I was misinformed."

Sire? Gossamer strength faltered. The others who Gossamer had identified as soldiers began to stand. The patrons were equally confused, trying to shift away, then retracting as the enemy appeared everywhere.

"Aye, you were wrong," the Brother said, his voice losing some of its power and deepness - a voice that tickled Gossamer's mind.

The cloaked man stood and turned, dropping his hood. Red hair spilled out. "I'll not have my captains miss trusting the one I trust most."

Gossamer dropped his sword. "Kelton!"

"It is good to see you, dear father." Kelton's smile far exceeded the appeal of the owner's crinkles.