Inside the study, the Thain waited for the door to close before slipping into the garden, snifter in hand. He gazed up at the stars and breathed in the fresh scent of summer. The flowers were closed up for the night; he missed their sweet scent and bold colors. Sweet and bold - just as an amaryllis should be.

Ferumbras emptied the snifter in a couple of gulps and went inside, locking the garden door behind him. He puttered around the wet bar, putting the bottles in a straight line, then rearranging them, the fullest at the left down to the least full at the right. He washed the snifter, dried it and stacked it with the others. 

Glancing into the mirror over the bar, he saw no hint of the younger hobbit he used to be. He was older to start, more grey hair now than brown. His mouth still smiled easily enough, but his eyes seemed to have forgotten how. But then he was in mourning. That was only to be expected. It would be disloyal to say that the past thirty-eight years hadn’t been happy ones, for they had been. Oh, but they could have been so much more. If only...

He realized he was stalling.

He shook himself and left the bar. He would have plenty of time to think in the carriage. Think, remember and wonder, not only of what might have been but what was yet to come. He had to get going first though.

With renewed resolve, he pulled on his long coat and gloves, blew out the candle and locked the study door behind him. He navigated the dark tunnels with expert ease and a few moments later was outside, the carriage before him. “We’re off, Twitch,” he said.

Twitch jumped down from his seat and held open the carriage door. “Where exactly are we off to, sir?” he asked.

“For now, the Woody End,” Ferumbras said and stepped into the carriage.

~*~

Chapter 4 – The Shepherd of Nohill

Ami and Esme ended up directing traffic. Fairgoers were coming in from all directions and the crowd grew larger and more disorganized as the day wore on. While they hadn’t been to the Free Fair in a few years, things were more or less always put in the same areas every year. A general wave in that direction or a quick point in this direction was enough to remind anyone they saw of where they should be heading. Esme was busy with a group of ropers just come in from Tighfield when Ami came across a young lad with a small herd of sheep.

He was standing rooted near the front of the grounds and looked very much the way she imagined a deer caught at the end of a crossbow would look: alert, overwhelmed and with the growing realization that there was little he could do to help himself. His breeches and shirt, though toughly woven, were dirty and torn from his journey; he had clearly come a long way but now that he was here he didn’t seem to know what to do next. 

Seeing that he was in need of help, Ami made her way over to him. “Good morning! Or, good afternoon, I should say now,” she greeted. She beamed at the lad, her dimples winking. “You look lost. Can I help you find your way?”

The lad looked at her, his expression changing little. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. Finally, he looked down at his sheep and gestured helplessly.

“Are you here for the contests, or to sell?” Ami asked.

“Um, to sell,” he answered, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“Where are your kin staying?” she asked next.

“I’m alone,” the lad replied.

“Oh,” she replied, surprised to hear this. It was unheard of for a hobbit to come to the Fair alone. Even if he did not come with family, he would come with friends or fellow tradeshobbits, or as servants as Sprig and Nab had done. 

“Are you selling for fleece or the beasts themselves?” she asked next, looking down at the sheep. She was surprised further with how well-behaved the sheep were. Agitated by the bustle all around them, they nonetheless stood around their master in a patient huddle, now and again chewing on bits of grass within easy reach. 

“The beasts,” the lad murmured.

“They are adorable sheep,” Ami complimented, meaning it wholeheartedly. One ewe lifted her little black face and stared at her blankly. “You should have no problem finding buyers or breeders.”

“Thank ‘ee,” the lad said.

“I’m Amaryllis Took, by the way, but you may call me Ami.” She held out a hand.

“Perry,” the lad answered. “Perry Nettleburr.” He took her hand in a quick shake, and she noticed it was cold with sweat and fear.

“Well, let’s get you to where you need to go,” Ami said and hooked his arm through hers so she could lead him across the grounds. Simply pointing and riddling off vague directions would do this lad little good. If he was surprised by her actions, he gave no sign of it.

“Where’s your dog?” she asked.

“Dog?” He met her eyes, longer this time. His eyes were a golden brown, reminding her of honeycombs and the soft droning of nectar-sated bees. 

She smiled again. “I like your eyes.”

He smiled shyly, blushing under her gaze. The blush brought much needed color to his fear-stricken face, and she glimpsed for the first time a hint of life in those golden orbs. Ami noticed then that almost everything about him was golden. The hair upon his head was sun-bleached to a rich caramel hue. His brown skin showed not a hint of sunburn, further impressing upon her that this was a hobbit accustomed to working outdoors. The sun seemed to have seeped into his very being.

“Do you like bread, Perry?” she asked on impulse.

He nodded. “I do.”

“After we get you settled, I can take you to the bakery in town. They have the most delicious rye bread you’ve ever tasted,” Ami said. “How does that sound?”

“That’s right kind of ‘ee, Ami,” he replied, leaving off the ‘Miss’ she had expected. His blush deepened. 

“It’s not a worry,” she said. “I believe the livestock is this way.”

She took him across the grounds. They gathered many onlookers as they went. Hobbits stopped to point at the sheep who obediently trailed behind their master, with no baying dog to encourage them along their way. Perry noticed the audience they were attracting and swallowed deeply.

“First time at the Fair,” Ami said. The answer was clearly yes, and he confirmed this when he nodded. “How do you get your sheep to do that?”

“Do what?” 

“Follow you like that?” 

He looked back at his followers and smiled fondly, a softness stealing over his features that completely transformed him. Ami saw now that he was nearly her age if not a few years older, rather than younger as she had first thought, and while he might be frightened of so many hobbits pressing in on all sides, he was entirely comfortable in his role as shepherd. That sort of ease and comfort didn’t come from nowhere. 

“They just do,” he answered with a shrug. “Is that why everyone is watching?”

Ami nodded. “It’s fascinating. Usually, you have to drive sheep in front of you, or keep the ram on a lead and they’ll follow him, but you’re not doing either. Keep up like this, and you’ll have your sheep sold before you even set up your tent.” 

She noticed then that the only thing Perry carried was a bindle stick. No tent then, just a sleeping roll. She peeked down again at the worn cuffs of his breeches and noticed the dirt matted in his foot hair and clinging to his legs – no great alarm there, if he had worked in stables along the way to pay the nightly board for him and his herd. Still, where was he planning to sleep now that he had reached the fair?

Perry smiled shyly. “Just for that?” he asked doubtfully, recalling her to their conversation.

She laughed. “You might just have a bidding war on your hands. I hope your pockets are deep.”

Perry frowned slightly at this, his free hand fluttering down to nervously feel the broken seam of one pocket. “Have ‘ee thread, then?” he asked.

“No, but I’m sure we’ll be able to get you some,” Ami answered. “You don’t have a tent.” 

He shook his head. “Nights’re warm,” he replied. 

“They are, aren’t they?” she said. Perhaps he hadn’t stabled at any inns, then. “You camped under the stars the whole way here?”

“‘Tis a fine blanket they make, come summer,” he said. “‘Tis no other like ‘em.”

“No, I guess there’s not,” she replied, somewhat wistfully. She now wished that they had slept outside while they traveled here, rather than in an inn. “It must be something marvelous to wake up with the sun on your face.”

“Nay,” Perry said, surprising her yet again. “Most like, ye’ll wake up with dew on yer face or, in my case, the sheep licking yer ears. Sun comes out much later. Now, there is something to be beating yer clothes clean whilst the sun’s waking the world. I do love me a sunrise.”

“I can’t remember the last sunrise I saw,” Ami said. “I see plenty of sunsets though. They’re beautiful indeed.”

“They’re the same thing though really, so ‘ee have seen a sunrise,” Perry said. “You’re just seeing it from the other side, like.”

Ami didn’t know what to say to this, but she found the thought intriguing. She turned it over as they continued across the grounds. 

They reached the area set aside for the livestock and their masters. Ami saw that Perry was given a good pen for his sheep. They stowed his bindle under an empty water trough inside the pen where the rams could guard it. She helped him to procure water and feed for the sheep, introducing him to as many hobbits as she could, until she was satisfied they would take him under their wing when she had to leave. 

Once he was settled, she took him back over the grounds and into town to the bakery with the best rye bread in the Shire. Perry looked all about them as they went, paying little attention to directions, so absorbed he was by the sights and sounds all around. They reached the bakery and Ami bought a loaf of bread fresh out of the oven. Perry watched the exchange of bread for coin with puzzlement. 

Bread in hand, they went back outside and found a table in the shade. 

“Now,” Ami said. “You simply must tell me everything about you.”

He quirked his eyebrows at this, baffled by this attention. “Not much to tell, really,” he said.

“I doubt that. You show up alone out of nowhere, with a line of obedient sheep and insights into sunsets, or sunrises as you say. I think there’s a lot to tell.”

“Will ‘ee be telling me ‘bout yerself then?” Perry asked, looking hopeful.

Ami nodded and they split the bread on it. Perry’s eyes widened as his teeth sank into his half of the loaf and the flavor exploded in his mouth. He chewed with much consideration and only swallowed reluctantly.

“Me lor’, but ‘tis the best rye I’ve tasted ever!” he exclaimed.

Ami laughed. “I told you so,” she said. “So, then, Perry Nettleburr. Where are you from? How did you come to be here?”

Perry didn’t answer right away. He tore off another chuck of bread and chewed it over slowly, savoring the flavor and giving himself time to consider the situation in which he now found himself.

He hadn’t known what to expect when he set out for the Fair. There had been dire warnings of being assaulted or robbed upon the way, but no such thing had come close to happening. He had nothing worth stealing anyway, except his wee flock. Still, he had steered clear of the towns, not quite trusting he would wake up to the company of his sheep if he came too near where others might lure them away. He was nervous about leaving them for even a moment now, but he had been assured by everyone that his sheep were safe in their pen, and the little old chap who checked him in had given him tags to put about the sheep’s necks, to identify them as his if they were to get out.

Overwhelmed couldn’t begin to describe his feeling when he first arrived at the Fair. The buildings, which had looked small enough from afar, now towered over his head and winded all around him like a maze with no end in sight. He had eventually followed the main flow of the crowd to the fairgrounds which, for all their wide open fields, were even more imposing than the town had been. He had never seen so many hobbits in one place before, all of them darting around like wasps disturbed from their hive. He had fully expected to be stung by any number of them. 

Far from being stung, he had instead been rescued by this comely lass now sitting across from him. She had appeared out of nowhere, materializing from the crowd as if by magic. He had thought he was being approached by a fire-star fallen from the heavens, with her mane of red hair curling about her fair round face. Then she had smiled and he realized his error. She was not a star but the Sun’s daughter, come to walk the earth and light the way before him. What he had ever done to earn such grace he couldn’t begin to imagine, but he was hardly going to complain!

Tongue-tied as he was by her beauty, he had barely been able to follow her speech. He was only able to hope desperately that the words he was speaking were making even a small bit of sense. Then, before he knew it, she was escorting him across the grounds and he found his arm inexplicably linked through hers. The touch of her skin was foreign to him, cool and soft when he had expected scorching heat instead. Maybe she was a star after all, cool as the night’s breeze. 

It was at this point that he decided he must be dreaming. He followed along in a daze, answering her questions or trying to – what was a dog? – and feeling that the morning could not get any better. Until now. Fresh bread on an empty stomach and conversation with this beauty only cemented his belief that this was all a dream. He kept expecting himself to wake up and dreading the moment when he inevitably would.

He swallowed his bite and shrugged. Well, if he was dreaming, he may as well enjoy it while he could. “I’m from a spot of land called Nohill, just outside Pincup.”

“One of our coachhobbits is from Pincup,” Ami said. “Sprig Dingle. Do you know him or his family, then?”

“Can’t say I do.” 

“I didn’t realize there were any sheep farms there.”

“Ain’t a farm so much. We just got us some sheep,” he said with a shrug. “We found them wandering a while back, or my granddaddy did anyhow. Couldn’t reckon where they come from, so we just kept them. They’ve been keeping us in wool and mutton ever since.”

Ami nodded. This made sense enough. Her father had found plenty of lost livestock after thunderstorms. She supposed if ever he couldn’t find their rightful owners, he would keep them; it would hardly make sense to let them keep on wandering.

“Do you usually attend the fair in Pincup, then, or do you make the trek to Buckland?” she asked next. She had never seen this lad or his black-faced sheep at the Tookland fair before.

“We don’t get out much,” Perry answered, considering how much to tell her.

He knew well enough that she came from a good family, but then that would be true of virtually anyone he came across. Whether she had nothing but farthings or ducats in her purse, it was all the same to him. Yet her palms were not callused, her nails were long and clean, and her skin was fair, and that alone told him more than her clothes, coin or speech ever could. This was not a lass who had to work to survive. 

He had been warned not to say too much about where he came from, lest folk take him for a simpleton and try to cheat him out of a fair trade for his sheep. He had been especially warned against hobbits of her type, lazy hobbits as his grandmother called them. They didn’t know a day of work in their lives and so could never understand those who moved from sun up to sun down to put food on the table. Yet he would have to take someone into his confidence in order to learn what exactly was a fair trade for his sheep, and who was he to deny a dream? 

Coming to a decision, he took another bite of bread, swallowed quickly and leaned forward. “Truth is, I ain’t ever been to no fair afore now. I ain’t quite reckoning what all to be doing. It’s just, I knew of the fairs and I heard once as it was a good way of making trade, and we had us a good lambing this season. So I thought maybe I could trade some of the extra sheep, ‘stead of slaughtering them all. You know, trade them for what else we’re needing. Only, I don’t know how to do that exactly. So say I was to want me a couple of cows and a bull. How do I get them? Would it be a beast for a beast, or what?”

“Oh, well,” Ami said, startled by this revelation, which only gave her more questions than answers. If the lad was from Pincup, how could this be his first fair? Why come to this fair, when Pincup, Buckland or Tookland were so much closer? How could he not know how to trade or barter? Why wouldn’t he be selling as well as trading?

“Well,” she repeated, biting back her questions. They could wait for later. “I don’t think it works like that exactly. You have to consider what the beast is to be used for. Sheep can be used for breeding and food, and they have the added benefit of fleecing, which means whoever gets them will be able to benefit from them for many years to come. So you’d want to exchange them for a milking cow, or a bull, rather than a bit of meat that will eventually be gone. For meat, you’d trade grain, ale, pipeweed, things of that sort.”

Perry nodded at this. That was sense enough, but not exactly what he needed to know. He tried another way. “It’s just as sheep are small like, and cows ain’t.”

“The size of the beast doesn’t matter so much though,” Ami elaborated. “A milking cow will give you milk every day, whereas a sheep can only give you wool or lambs a couple of times a year. You need more sheep to equal the output of a cow, and yet the more sheep you have, the more land you need to keep and feed them.”

“So, if I were to offer two sheep for one cow, that’d be fair?” Perry asked. He had only brought a dozen ewes and two rams with him.

“Two if you can get it,” Ami agreed. “Three would be more likely though. I wouldn’t go any higher than four, and for that many I’d ask for a few hides to go along with it.”

“What about a bull?” Perry inquired next.

“A bull for a ram is the usual trade; they’re only good for the one thing,” Ami reasoned. “Though a ram too can be fleeced, which gives them more value. A bull and, say, maybe a hide or two. You’ll want at least two if not three cows and one bull to get started. You’ll have to trade the offspring each year, so as not to mix the bloodlines. It causes deformation and disease in the offspring if that happens. I saw fourteen sheep; how many rams did you bring?”

“Two.”

“Well there you go,” Ami said in triumph. “We’ve got you three cows, a bull and some hides, and you still have three ewes and a ram to go. Of course, it all depends who you’re bartering with. I suggest you watch how the others do business tomorrow. That way, you can determine who’s the most generous, and it’ll give you time to show off your own stock, thus improving your chances of success. I can’t imagine anyone being stingy once they see how well-behaved your sheep are. The biggest complaint among shepherds is how difficult it is to track down their flocks.

“I would suggest selling one or two for coin also. Ten to fifteen pennies would be a decent enough price for a ram; fifteen to twenty for an ewe, though you could certainly get more. You can take your pennies to the Town Treasury to have them broken down to smaller coins if need be; it’ll be heavier to carry but easier to spend. Coin, of course, can be used for anything.”

“We’ve not much use for coin where I come from,” Perry said, “not lest it’s big enough to plug a hole in a bucket.”

“You’ve no use for coin in Pincup?” Ami asked, flabbergasted by this statement. “A sell like that is enough to see you through to next spring.”

Perry didn’t respond, but looked down at his feet and finished his bread.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude,” she apologized.

“You weren’t rude,” he assured. “Do ‘ee come to the fair much then, Ami?”

“Not to this fair. We usually stay in Tookland. We only came this year because of the election,” she answered, a thought suddenly striking her. “Is that why you’re here then? For the election?”

It made sense, if Perry had never been to a fair before. He was a tad young to be a family head, but this winter had been kind to no one, and he had said he was alone. Could it be that he was the only fellow old enough in his family to bear the responsibility?

He shook his head though. “I just come for the sheep. I heard this was the largest fair, and what with the election and the leap day and all, ‘twas to be even larger than most years. Plus it’s free. Everyone thought I was foolish to come. I think now maybe ‘twasn’t so foolish though.”

“It wasn’t foolish at all,” she said. “You’ll be quite successful, I’m sure.”

“Well, I thank ‘ee, Ami, for yer kindness and yer help today. I’d still be standing lost on the grounds were it not for ‘ee.”

Ami’s eyes widened at this statement, and she jumped to her feet. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “I’m still supposed to be helping! Esme’s going to be furious. I have to go, but um, well, you’ll be all right to find your way back?”

He nodded, startled by this sudden outburst, but too full on warm bread and sunshine to pay it much attention. “I’ll manage.”

“You’re certain?” she asked, reluctant to leave him alone despite his assurance.

“Aye, I’ll do fine, thanks.”

“Oh, all right. Well, it was lovely to meet you, and I hope to see you around,” Ami said, starting to go. “If you’re not doing anything else on Overlithe eve, we’re having my birthday party. You’re welcome to come. I’ll save you a dance if you do.” Then she turned and darted off before he could answer, lost to the crowd like the sun behind a cloud. 

Perry sat in his chair and watched the spot where she had disappeared, still waiting to wake up.

Rumbi finally found Paladin after luncheon, helping to set up the stage. A good number of Took lads were helping him, and Rumbi noticed Saradoc and Merimac Brandybuck in the bunch as well. They were hauling the long wooden planks for the stage floor from a wagon to where the stage’s frame already stood. Rumbi waited until they had handed over their load to the fellows who were laying the planks on the frame before heading over to confront his cousin.

“Pally, a word with you,” Rumbi said in a low, stern tone. He gripped Pally by the elbow and steered him away to some distance so they would not be overheard. “I would like to know how exactly Darling came to be talking to my mother this morning. Why didn’t you stop her?”

Pally pulled his elbow out of Rumbi’s grip. He had the good sense to look chagrined for breaking his word. “We had a fight the other day, then she kept pinching me this morning. It’s a poor excuse, but we aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now.”

“I don’t care what sort of terms you are on,” Rumbi said. “You gave me your word.”

“Was Lalia very harsh to her?” Pally asked, concerned.

“From the tension in the room when I left, she was,” Rumbi answered. “I didn’t wait to get the details. You disappoint me, Paladin. How could you let a personal squabble get in the way of fulfilling your duty, not just to me but to your sister? You left her to walk into the wolf’s den. How do you expect to lead your family one day, acting like that?”

Pally sighed and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again and I’ll apologize to Ami,” he said. 

“What were you fighting about that was so important?” Ferumbras asked.

“Nothing that should have prevented me from protecting her,” Pally answered. “Ironically, trying to protect her is what started the fight. She’s too friendly with the help.”

“She’s a kind heart,” Rumbi said. “No harm in that.”

“I suppose not,” Pally agreed reluctantly. “She should be around here somewhere. She was helping Esme direct traffic.”

They looked around the field together but saw no sign of Ami. They spotted Esme almost at once, her scarlet hair standing out from the crowd, but Ami’s fiery locks were not to spied anywhere. They spotted Rosamunda approaching and stopped her. 

“Rose, have you seen Darling?” Rumbi asked.

“I haven’t seen her, but I heard about her,” Rosamunda said in a disapproving tone. “She was seen leading about some ragamuffin across the grounds into town not too long ago.”

“Ragamuffin?” Pally asked, his pulse quickening with dread. So much for protecting his sister’s reputation. “What ragamuffin?”

“No one knows. No one’s ever seen the lad before. He’s a shepherd though; he has his livestock over there,” she answered, pointing to the corrals near the back edge of the field. “He created quite the sensation. Apparently, he holds some magic over the sheep, if you can believe that.” She apparently did not believe such a thing; she shook her head and chuckled as though the thought wasn’t even worth entertaining.

Pally and Rumbi smiled kindly at this but did not reply. Rosamunda went on her way, sauntering towards the crafts booths that were being erected in the center of the field, not far from the stage. 

“Well, I see Darling took my lecture to heart,” Pally said grimly. 

“I’m sure she has a perfectly good reason,” Rumbi defended. “Rose isn’t exactly the most reliable source for objective information.”

“Maybe,” Pally allowed. “Maybe I should talk to Da.”

“Let me handle it,” Rumbi said. He patted Pally’s shoulder and headed towards town. “You get back to your friends.”

Only Rumbi couldn’t find Ami in town. By the time he found someone who had seen her, ‘chattering with some queer grubber outside the bakery,’ she was already gone from her perch. So was the lad, as there was no one sitting there now that fit the description he had received from his informant: dark, dirty, bedraggled, and half-starved. 

Figuring he must have just missed her, he turned back towards the fairgrounds, where he soon enough found her being lectured by Esmeralda.

“You forgot!” Esme scolded. “Ami, you always forget! I’ve been here alone all morning. I didn’t even get a chance to eat.”

“Well I’m back now,” Ami said. “Go on and get some food. I can handle things.”

“Until you forget and take off again. What was so important?” Esme asked, hands on hips.

“There was this lad,” Ami started to explain but stopped, struggling with how to proceed. “He was… Well, he was lost and, well, I just… He’d never here before, he didn’t know his way around and I… just wanted to help.”

“Hm-mm,” Esme hummed derisively. “Who you should have been helping was me, instead of leading that lad all over the place by your arm. Don’t look so shocked; it’s all anyone is talking about. Did you really think folk wouldn’t notice?”

“All I did was show him where to keep his sheep,” Ami said.

“You’ve been gone a bit too long for just that,” Esme retorted pointedly.

“I bought him some bread. He was clearly hungry,” Ami replied. “Or is that not proper?”

Esme backed down at this, deflating in an instant. “No. I mean, yes, of course you should have helped him.”

“Good. I’m glad you approve. Honestly, you’re starting to sound like Paladin,” Ami said. It was at this point she noticed Rumbi standing there. Her face split into a grin and she jotted over to greet him with a hug and a peck on the cheek. “Rumbi! You’re a day early!”

“Darling-dear. Hallo Esme,” Rumbi greeted. 

“Planning to stay on for a while, Rumbi?” Esme asked and was grateful to see him nod. Comforted by the presence of an extra hand, Esme took her leave to find a belated luncheon, leaving Ami and Rumbi alone. 

Rumbi returned Ami’s embrace, then held her at arm’s length, searching her face.

She laughed. “What?”

“I heard you spoke with Mother this morning,” he answered. “What did she say?”

Ami shrugged and waved away any concern. “She was just upset. I’m sure she didn’t really mean it.”

“She promised me she would apologize to you for her behavior. You must tell me if she does not,” Ferumbras said.

“Really, Rumbi, it’s all right,” Ami said, putting on a brave face. She had actually been trying her best not to think about that confrontation. The last thing she wanted to do was face Lalia again, not right away anyway. 

“It is not all right. I won’t have anyone speaking to you in that manner, not even her,” Rumbi said, cupping her cheek. She smiled warmly at him and patted his hand. “Other than that, how have you been enjoying the Fair so far?” He dropped his hand and stepped away to a respectable distance, aware that they were attracting an audience. 

“Well, the Fair hasn’t started yet, which is probably a good thing,” Ami replied. 

“So, tell me about this lad you met,” Rumbi said casually.

Ami shrugged. “He’s nice. A bit odd. He says he’s from Pincup, but I don’t know. Maybe I’ll ask Sprig to befriend him.”

“Who’s Sprig?”

“He’s one of the coachhobbits who drove us here. He’s from Pincup too. He can help Perry feel more at ease,” Ami said, approving of this idea at once. 

Rumbi raised an eyebrow at this. He thought he understood now what Paladin meant about being too friendly with the help. Still, no harm ever came from befriending someone. “I’m sure this Perry lad will be thankful. It’s good of you to help him,” he said.

Ami rewarded him with one of her dazzling smiles that so often stole his breath away. “Thank you, Rumbi. I knew you’d understand.” She took one his hands and pressed it briefly, earning a smile in return.

From the edge of the field, Perry Nettleburr watched his rescuer and the burly chap with whom she was talking. He was finally awake.

To be continued…

GF 7/9/11