CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Threats

    THAT WINTER SAW Bearns devoured slowly, as a cliff is eaten by storm tides. At first, Duke Brawndy sent tidings to Kettricken on a regular basis. Word came to her by liveried messengers coming on horseback directly from the Duke. At first the tidings they brought were optimistic. Her opals rebuilt Ferry. The folk there sent her not only their thanks, but a small chest of the very tiny pearls so prized by them. Odd. What had been too treasured to be sacrificed even to rebuild their own village was freely offered in thanks to a Queen who had surrendered her jewels that they might have shelter. I doubt that the significance of their sacrifice would have meant as much to any other. Kettricken wept over the tiny chest.

    Later messengers brought grimmer tidings. Between storms, the Red-Ships struck again and again. The messengers reported to Kettricken that Duke Brawndy wondered why the coterie member had left the Red Tower. When Kettricken boldly questioned Serene as to whether this was so, she said it had become too dangerous to keep Will there, for his Skill was too precious to be risked to the Red-Ships. The irony was lost on few folk. With each arriving messenger, the news worsened. The Outislanders had established footholds on Hook and Besham islands. Duke Brawndy assembled fishing vessels and warriors and boldly attacked on his own, but found the Red-Ships too well entrenched there. Ships and warriors perished, and Bearns reported gravely that there were no funds for another expedition. At that juncture, Verity's emeralds were turned over to Kettricken. She sent them off without a qualm. If they did any good, we did not hear of it. We were not even certain they were ever received. Messages from Bearns became more erratic, and it was soon obvious that there had been tidings sent that we had not received. Communication with Brawndy broke down entirely. After two of her own messengers had been sent forth from Buckkeep, never to return, Kettricken vowed she would risk no more lives. By then, the Raiders from Hook and Besham had begun to harry farther down the coast, avoiding the immediate vicinity of Buckkeep, but making feints and challenges to both the north and south of us. To all these raids, Regal remained staunchly indifferent. He claimed he was conserving resources until verity could return with the Elderlings to drive the Raiders away once and for all. But the merriment and entertainments at Buckkeep became ever more lavish and frequent, and his gifts to his Inland dukes and nobles ever more generous.

    By midafternoon, Burrich was back in his own chambers. I had wanted to keep him where I could watch over him, but he had scoffed at the idea. Lacey herself had seen to getting his chamber ready, and Burrich had grumbled enough about that. All she had done was to build up the fire, see water brought fresh, the bedding aired and shaken, and the floors swept and fresh rushes strewn. One of Molly's candles burned in the center of his table, putting a fresh piney scent into the musty room. But Burrich had growled that it scarcely felt like his own room. I had left him there, well propped up in bed and with a bottle of brandy close to hand.

    I had understood the bottle only too well. As I had helped him through the stables and up to his loft, we had passed one empty stall after another. Not only horses were missing; prime hunting dogs were gone. I had no heart to go look in the mews; I was sure I would find them likewise plundered. Hands had walked beside us, silent but stricken. His efforts were plain.

    The stables themselves were immaculate, the remaining horses groomed until they shone. Even the empty stalls were scrubbed and whitewashed. But an empty cupboard, no matter how clean, is no comfort to a starving man. I understood that the stables were Burrich's treasure and home. He had come back to find both looted.

    After I left Burrich, I took a walk down to the barns and pens. Here the best of the breeding stock were wintered over. I found them as depleted as the stables. Prize bulls were gone. Of the curly-backed black sheep that used to fill one pen, there were only six ewes and one runty ram left. I was not as aware of what other stock had once been there, but too many pens and stalls were empty at a time of year when all were usually full.

    From the barns, I wandered through the storage houses and outbuildings. Outside of one; some men were loading sacks of grain into a wagon. Two other wagons, already loaded, stood nearby. I stood a bit, watching them, and then offered to help as the wagon's load grew higher and the sacks harder to load. They accepted my help readily, and we talked as we worked. I waved them a cheery good-bye when the work was done, and walked slowly back to the Keep, wondering why a full warehouse of grain was being loaded onto a barge and sent upriver to Turlake.

    I decided I would check on Burrich before going back to my own chambers. I climbed the steps to his chambers and was unsettled to find the door ajar. Fearing some sort of treachery, I pushed in, startling Molly, who was setting out dishes on a small table beside Burrich's chair. The sight of her there rattled me, and I stared at her. When I turned to Burrich, I found him watching me.

    "I thought you were alone," I said lamely.

    Burrich regarded me owlishly. He had made inroads on his bottle of brandy. "I thought I would be," he said gravely. As ever, he held his spirits well, but Molly was not deceived. Her lips were set in a thin line. She continued with her duties, ignoring me. Instead she spoke to Burrich.

    "I shall not disturb you long. Lady Patience sent me to see that you had hot food, for you ate little this morning. I shall be leaving as soon as I have set out his meal."

    "And taking my thanks with you," Burrich added. His eyes went from me to Molly, sensing the awkwardness, and also her displeasure with him. He attempted an apology. "I have had a harsh journey, mistress, and my injury gives me some pain. I hope I have not given offense."

    "It is not my place to take offense at anything you wish to do, sir," she replied. She finished setting out the food she had brought. "Is there anything else I can do for you to make you comfortable?" she asked. There was courtesy in her voice, no more than that. She did not look at me at all.

    "You could accept my thanks. Not just for the food, but also for the candles that freshened my chamber. I understand they are your handiwork."

    I saw her thaw slightly. "Lady Patience asked me to bring them here. I was happy to oblige her."

    "I see." The next words he spoke cost him more. "Then please extend my thanks to her. And to Lacey as well, I am sure."

    "I shall. There is nothing more that you need, then? I have errands in Buckkeep Town for Lady Patience. She told me that if there was anything you required from town, I should fetch it for you."

    "Nothing. But it was kind of her to think of it. Thank you."

    "You are welcome, sir." And Molly, empty basket on her arm, marched out past me as if I were not even there.

    Burrich and I were left regarding one another. I glanced after Molly, then tried to put her out of my mind. "It's not just the stables," I told him, and briefly reported what I had seen in the barns and warehouses.

    "I could have told you a bit of that," he said gruffly. He looked at the food Molly had brought, then poured himself more brandy. "As we came down the Buck River road there were rumors and tidings. Some said Regal sold the beasts and grain off to fund the defense of the coasts. Others that he sent the breeding stock inland to safer pastures in Tilth." He drank his brandy down. "The best of the horses are gone. I saw that at a glance when I came back. In ten years, I might breed stock up again to the quality of what we had. But, I doubt it." He poured again. "There's my life's work gone, Fitz. A man likes to think he'll leave his touch on the world somewhere. The horses I had brought together here, the bloodlines I was establishing-gone now, scattered throughout the Six Duchies. Oh, not that they won't improve anything they're bred to. But I'll never see what would have come if I'd been allowed to continue. Steady will be studding rangy Tilth mares, no doubt. And when Ember drops her next foal, whoever rubs it off will think it just another horse. For six generations, I've been waiting for just that foal. They'll take the finest coursing horse that's ever been foaled and hook it to a plow."

    There was nothing to say about that. I feared it was all true. "Eat something," I suggested. "How's your leg now?"

    He lifted the blanket to inspect it casually. "Still there, anyway. I suppose I should be grateful for that. And better than it was this morning. The devil's-club did draw out the infection. Chicken-brained as she is, the woman still knows her herbs."

    I did not need to ask to whom he referred. "Are you going to eat?" I prodded.

    He set down his cup and took up a spoon. He tasted the soup Molly had set out, grudgingly nodded his approval. "So," he observed between bites, "that was the girl. Molly."

    I nodded.

    "Seemed a bit cool with you today."

    "A bit," I said dryly.

    Burrich grinned. "You're as testy as she was. I imagine Patience did not speak well of me to her."

    "She doesn't like drunks," I told him bluntly. "Her father drank himself to death. But before he finished the job, he managed to make her life unpleasant for years. Beating her when she was smaller. Railing and berating her when she got too big to beat."

    "Oh." Burrich carefully refilled his cup. "I'm sorry to hear that."

    "She was sorry to live it."

    He looked at me levelly. "I did not do it, Fitz. Nor was I rude to her when she was here. I'm not even drunk. Not yet. So stuff your disapproval, and tell me what's been going on at Buckkeep while I was away."

    So I stood and reported to Burrich, just as if he had a right to demand it. In a way, I suppose he did. He ate as I spoke. When I was finished, he poured himself more brandy and leaned back in his chair, holding it. He swirled the brandy in the cup, looked down at it, then up at me. "And Kettricken is with child, but neither the King nor Regal know of it yet."

    "I thought you were asleep."

    "I was. I half thought I'd dreamed that conversation. Well." He downed the brandy. He sat up, swept the blanket off his leg. As I watched he deliberately bent his knee until the pulling flesh began to gap the wound open. I winced at the sight of it, but Burrich only looked thoughtful. He poured more brandy, drank it off. The bottle was half-gone. "So. I'm going to have to splint the leg straight, if I'm going to keep that closed." He glanced up at me. "You know what I'll need. Will you fetch it for me?"

    "I think you should stay off it for a day or. so. Give it a chance to rest. You don't need a splint if you're in bed."

    He gave me a long look. "Who guards Kettricken's door?"

    "I don't think ... I assume she has women who sleep in the outer chamber of her apartments."

    "You know he'll try to kill her and the unborn child, as soon as he finds out."

    "It's a secret still. If you start guarding her door, all will know."

    "By my count, five of us know. That's no secret, Fitz."

    "Six," I admitted ruefully. "The Fool surmised it some days ago."

    "Oh!" I had the satisfaction of seeing Burrich look shocked. "Well, at least that's one tongue that won't go wagging. Still, as you see, it won't be secret long. Rumors will fly before the day's out, mark my words. I guard her door this night."

    "Must it be you? Can't you rest, and I will-"

    "A man can die of failure, Fitz. Do you know that? Once, I told you, the fight isn't over until you've won. This"-and he gestured at his leg in disgust "this will not be my excuse for giving up. Shame enough for me that my prince went on without me. I shall not fail him here. Besides"-he gave a bark of sour laughter-"there's not enough in the stables now to keep both Hands and me busy. And the heart for it has gone out of me. Now. Will you go get the splint works?"

    So I did, and took them back to him, and helped him smear the wound with his salve before we wrapped it well and splinted it. He cut a pair of old trousers to go over the splint, and I helped him down the stairs. Then, despite his words, he went to Ruddy's stall to see if his horse's arrow wound had been cleaned and doctored. I left him there and went back up to the Keep. I wanted to speak to Kettricken, to let her know there would be a man on guard on her door that night, and why.

    I knocked at her chamber door and was admitted by Rosemary. The Queen was indeed there, and a selection of her ladies. Most were working embroidery or small lap looms as they talked. The Queen herself had her window opened to the mild winter day and was looking out over the calm sea with a frown. She reminded me of Verity when he Skilled, and I suspected that much the same worries plagued her. I followed her gaze, and wondered, like her, where the Red-Ships would strike today, and what was going on up in Bearns. Useless to wonder. Officially, there was no word at all from Beams. The rumors were that the coasts ran red with blood.

    "Rosemary. I wish a quiet word with Her Majesty."

    Rosemary nodded gravely and went over to curtsy to her queen. In a moment the Queen looked up, and with a nod and a gesture invited me to join her in her window seat. I greeted her quietly and gestured smilingly out over the water as if we chatted of the fine weather. But softly I said, "Burrich wishes to guard your door, beginning this night. He fears that when others discover you are with child, your life will be in danger."

    Another woman might have blanched or at least seemed surprised. Instead, Kettricken lightly touched the very serviceable knife she always wore beside her keys. "Almost, I would welcome so direct an attack." She considered. "I suppose it is wise. What harm can come of letting them know we suspect. Nay, that we know. Why should I be circumspect and tactful?

    Burrich has already received their greetings, in the form of an arrow through the leg." The bitterness in her voice, and the ferocity beneath it, shocked me. "He may take the guard post, and with it my thanks. I could choose a sounder man, but I would not have the trust in him that I have in Burrich. Will his leg injury permit him to do this duty?"

    "I do not think his pride would permit any other to do it."

    "Fine, then." She paused. "I will have a chair placed for him."

    "I doubt he will use it."

    She sighed. "We all have our own ways of offering sacrifice. It shall be there, nonetheless."

    I bowed my head in acceptance and she dismissed me. I went back up to my room intending to tidy away all that had been dragged out for Burrich's use. But as I walked softly down the hall I was startled to see the door of my room open slowly. I eased to another doorway and flattened myself inside it. After a moment Justin and Serene emerged from my room. I stepped out to confront them.

    "Still looking for a spot for your tryst?" I asked acidly.

    They both froze. Justin stepped back, stood almost behind Serene. Serene glared at him, then stood firm before me. "We don't have to answer to you for anything."

    "Not even for being in my room? Did you find anything interesting there?"

    Justin was breathing as if he'd just run a race. I deliberately met his eyes. He was speechless. I smiled at him.

    "We need not speak to you at all," Serene announced. "We know what you are. Come, Justin."

    "You know what I am? Interesting. Rest assured that I know what you are. And that I am not the only one who knows."

    "Beast man!" Justin hissed. "You wallow in the filthiest of magics. Did you think you could go undetected amongst us? No wonder Galen found you unfit to Skill!"

    His arrow had struck home and quivered in my most secret fear. I tried not to let it show. "I am loyal to King Shrewd." Face composed, I gazed at them steadily. I said no more than that. Not in words. But I looked them up and down, measuring them against what they should be, and found them lacking. In the minute shifting of their feet, in their quick glances at one another, I decided that they knew they were traitors. They reported to Regal; they knew they should report to the King. They were not deceived as to what they were; they understood. Perhaps Galen had burned a loyalty to Regal into their minds; perhaps they could not conceive of turning against him. But parts of them still knew that Shrewd was king, and that they were disloyal to a King they had sworn to. I tucked away that bit of knowledge; it was a crack that might someday hold a wedge.

    I stepped forward, and enjoyed watching Serene shrink away from me while Justin cowered between her and the wall. But I made no attack. I turned my back to them and opened my door. As I entered my room I felt a sneaky little wisp of Skill grope at the edges of my mind. Without thinking, I blocked as Verity had taught me to. "Keep your thoughts to yourself," I warned them, and did not dignify them by looking back at them. I shut the door.

    For a moment I stood breathing. Calm. Calm. I did not relax my mind guards. Then quietly, carefully, I worked my latches. Once the door was secured, I moved cautiously through my room. Chade had once told me that assassins must always believe the other person has more skill than they do. It is the only way to remain alive and keep sharp. So I touched nothing lest it had been coated with poison. Instead, I stood in the center of my room, closed my eyes, and tried to recall exactly how it had looked when I last left it. Then I opened my eyes and looked for changes in the room.

    The small tray of herbs was squarely atop my clothing chest. I had left it to one end, within easy reach of Burrich. So they had been through my clothing chest. The tapestry of King Wisdom, that had been slightly askew for months, now hung straight. That was all I could see. It puzzled me. I had no idea what they had been looking for. That they had dug through my clothing chest seemed to suggest it was a small enough item to fit in there. But why lift a tapestry and look behind it? I stood still, thinking a moment. This had not been a random search. I was not sure what they had been hoping to find. But I suspected they had been told to look for a secret passageway in my room. That meant that Regal had concluded that killing Lady Thyme had not been enough. His suspicions were stronger than Chade had led me to believe. I was almost grateful I had never been able to discover how to work the entry to Chade's apartments. It gave me more confidence in its secrecy.

    I inspected every item in my room before I handled it. I saw that every scrap of food that had remained on Cook's trays was disposed of where no one and nothing would taste it. I discarded the water in the buckets as well as that in my ewer. I inspected my supply of firewood and candles for powders or resins, checked my bedding for powder, and reluctantly discarded my complete supply of herbs. I would take no chances. I could discover no possessions missing, nor that anything had been added to my room. Sometime later I sat down on my bed, feeling exhausted and unnerved. I would have to be more on my guard, I concluded. I recalled the Fool's experience and pondered it. I did not want to encounter a bag and a beating the next time I entered my room.

    My room suddenly seemed confining, a trap that I must return to each day. I left it, not bothering to lock it as I went. Locks were useless. Let them see I did not fear their intrusion. Even though I did.

    Outside, it was a mild, clear late afternoon. The unseasonably kind weather ate at me, even as I enjoyed my walk through the inner circle of the Keep. I decided I would walk down to town, to pay a visit to the Rurisk and my shipmates there, and then perhaps go into a tavern for a beer. It had been too long since I'd walked to town, and far too, long since I'd listened to the gossip of town folk. It would be a relief to get away from Buckkeep intrigues for a while.

    I was going out the gate when a young guardsman stepped into my path. "Stand!" he commanded me, then: "Please, sir," he added as he recognized me.

    I halted obediently. "Yes?"

    He cleared his throat, then suddenly went scarlet all the way to his hairline. He took a breath, then stood silent.

    "Did you need something from me?" I asked.

    "Please to wait a moment, sir," the boy blurted.

    The lad disappeared back into the guardhouse, and a moment later an older watch officer emerged. She regarded me gravely, took a breath as if to steel herself, then said quietly; "You are denied passage out of the Keep."

    "What?" I could not believe my ears.

    She drew herself up. When she spoke, her voice was firmer. "You are denied passage out of the Keep."

    A surge of anger heated me. I forced it down. "By whose command?"

    She stood firm before me. "My commands come from the captain of the watch, sir. That is all I know of it."

    "I would speak to that captain." I kept my voice courteous.

    "He is not in the guardroom. Sir."

    "I see." But I did not, quite. I could perceive all the nooses tightening about me, but could not understand why just now. The other obvious question to ask, however, was "why not?" With Shrewd's enfeeblement, Verity had become my protector. But he was away. I could turn to Kettricken, but only if I were willing to bring her into open conflict with Regal. I was not. Chade was, as always, a shadow power. All of this passed through my mind quickly. I was turning away from the gate when I heard my name called. I turned back.

    Coming up the hill from town was Molly. Her servant's blue dress flapped around her calves as she ran. And she ran heavily, unevenly, unlike her usual graceful stride. She was exhausted, or nearly so. "Fitz!" she cried out again, and there was fear in her voice.

    I started to go to her, but the guard stepped suddenly into my path. Fear was on her face, too, but also determination. "I cannot let you go out of the gate. I have my orders."

    I wanted to smash her from my path. I forced my rage down. A struggle with her would not help Molly. "Then you go to her, damn you! Can't you see the woman is in trouble of some kind?"

    She stood eye to eye with me, unmoving. "Miles!" she called, and the boy leaped out. "Go see what is wrong with that woman. Quickly now!"

    The boy took off like a shot. I stood, with the guard standing squarely before me, and watched helplessly over her shoulder as Miles raced to Molly. When he reached her, he put an arm around her and took her basket on his other arm. Leaning heavily on him, gasping and near weeping, Molly came toward the gate. It seemed to take forever before she was through the gate and in my arms. "Fitz, oh Fitz," she sobbed.

    "Come," I told her. I turned her away from the guard, walked her away from the gate. I knew I had done the sensible thing, the calm thing, but I felt shamed and small from it.

    "Why didn't you ... come to me?" Molly panted.

    "The guard would not let me. They have orders I am not to leave Buckkeep," I said quietly. I could feel her trembling as she leaned against me. I took her around the corner of a warehouse, out of sight of the guards standing gaping in the gate. I held her in my arms until she quieted. "What's wrong? What happened?" I tried to make my voice soothing. I brushed back the hair that hung about her face. After a few moments she quieted in my arms. Her breathing steadied, but she still trembled.

    "I had gone into town. Lady Patience had given me the afternoon. And I needed to get a few things ... for my candles." As she spoke, her trembling lessened. I tilted her chin up so that she looked into my eyes.

    "And then?"

    "I was ... coming back. I was on the steep bit, just outside of town. Where the alders grow?"

    I nodded. I knew the spot.

    "I heard horses coming. In a hurry. So I stepped off the road to make way for them." She started to tremble again. "I kept walking, thinking they would pass me. But suddenly they were right behind me, and when I looked back, they were coming right at me. Not on the road, but right at me. I jumped back into the brush, and still they rode right at me. I turned and ran, but they kept coming ...." Her voice was getting higher and higher.

    "Hush! Wait a bit. Calm down. Think. How many of them? Did you know them?"

    She shook her head wildly. "Two. I couldn't see their faces. I was running away, and they were wearing the kind of helm that comes down over your eyes and nose. They chased me. It's steep there, you know, and brushy. I tried to get away, but they just rode their horses right through the brush after me. Herding me, like dogs herd sheep. I ran, and ran, but I couldn't get away from them. Then I fell, I caught my foot on a log and I fell. And they jumped from their horses. One pinned me down while the other snatched up my basket. He dumped it all out, like he was looking for something, but they were laughing and laughing. I thought ..."

    My heart was hammering as hard as Molly's now. "Did they hurt you?" I asked fiercely.

    She paused, as if she could not decide, then shook her head wildly. "Not like you fear. He just ... held me down. And laughed. The other one, he said ... he said, I was pretty stupid, letting myself be used by a bastard. They said ..."

    Again she paused a moment. Whatever they had said to her, called her was ugly enough that she could not repeat it to me. It was like a sword through me, that they had been able to hurt her so badly she would not even share the pain. "They warned me," she went on at last. "They said stay away from the bastard. Don't do his dirty work for him. They said ... things I didn't understand, about messages and spies and treason. They said they could make sure that everyone knew I was the Bastard's whore." She tried just to say the word, but it came out with greater force. She defied me to flinch from it. "Then they said ... I would be hanged ... if I didn't pay attention. That to run errands for a traitor was to be a traitor." Her voice grew strangely calmer. "Then they spit on me. And they left me. I heard them ride away, but for a long time I was afraid to get up. I have never been so scared." She looked at me and her eyes were like open wounds. "Not even my father ever scared me that bad."

    I held her close to me. "It's all my fault." I did not even know I had spoken aloud until she drew back from me, to look up in puzzlement.

    "Your fault? Did you do something wrong?"

    "No. I am no traitor. But I am a bastard. And I've let that spill over onto you. Everything Patience warned me of, everything Ch-- everyone warned me about, it's all coming true. I've got you caught up in it."

    "What is happening?" she asked softly, eyes wide. Her breath suddenly caught. "You said ... the guard wouldn't let you out the gate. That you can't leave Buckkeep? Why?"

    "I don't know, exactly. There's a lot I don't understand. But one thing I do know. I have to keep you safe. That means staying away from you, for a time. And you from me. Do you understand?"

    A glint of anger came into her eyes. "I understand you're leaving me alone in this!"

    "No. That's not it. We have to make them believe that they've scared you, that you're obeying them. Then you'll be safe. They'll have no reason to come after you again."

    "They have scared me, you idiot!" she hissed at me. "One thing I know. Once someone knows you're afraid of him, you're never safe from that person. If I obey them now, they will come after me again. To tell me to do other things, to see how far I'll obey them in my fear."

    These were the scars her father had left on her life. Scars that were a kind of strength, but also a vulnerability. "Now is not the time to stand up to them," I whispered. I kept looking over her shoulder, expecting that at any moment the guard would come to see where we had vanished. "Come," I said, and led her deeper into the maze of warehouses and outbuildings. She walked silently beside me for a ways, then suddenly jerked her hand from mine.

    "It is time to stand up to them," she declared. "Because once you start putting it off, you never do it. Why should not this be the time?"

    "Because I don't want you caught up in this. I don't want you hurt. I don't want people saying you are the Bastard's whore." I could barely force the words from my mouth.

    Molly's head came up. "I have done nothing I'm ashamed of," she said evenly. "Have you?"

    "No. But-"

    " 'But.' Your favorite word," she said bitterly. She walked away from me.

    "Molly!" I sprang after her, seized her by the shoulders.

    She spun and hit me. Not a slap. A solid punch in the mouth that rocked me back and put blood in my mouth. She stood glaring, daring me to touch her again. I didn't. "I didn't say I wouldn't fight back. Only that I didn't want you caught up in it. Give me a chance to fight this my way," I said. I knew blood was running over my chin. I let her look at it. "Trust that given time, I can find them and make them pay. My way. Now. Tell me about the men. What they wore, how they rode. What did the horses look like? Did they speak like Buck folk, or Inlanders? Did they have beards? Could you tell the color of their hair, their eyes?"

    I saw her trying to think, saw her mind veer away from thinking about it. "Brown," she said at last. "Brown horses, with black manes and tails. And the men talked like anybody else. One had a dark beard. I think.. It's hard to see face down in the dirt."

    "Good. That's good," I told her, though she had told me nothing at all. She looked down, away from the blood on my face. "Molly," I said more quietly. "I won't be coming ... to your room. Not for a while. Because ..."

    "You're afraid."

    "Yes!" I hissed. "Yes, I'm afraid. Afraid they'll hurt you, afraid they'll kill you. To hurt me. I won't endanger you by coming to you."

    She stood still. I could not tell if she was listening to me or not. She folded her arms across her chest, hugged herself..

    "I love you too much to see that happen." My words sounded weak, even to myself.

    She turned and walked away from me. She still hugged herself, as if to keep herself from flying apart. She looked very alone, in her draggled blue skirts with her proud head bowed. "Molly Redskirts," I whispered after her, but I could no longer see that Molly. Only what I had made of her.