Once you get outside the great walls of Adville (at three PM, plus a minute) and away from romance vibes, for the simple subscription price of two dollars and ninety-nine cents you remove all required ads. The outer world didn’t have much in the way of structures. For one, massive creatures roamed all over out here that could be dangerous, but also the city’s population had been shrinking in an already large space. They had the path which held plenty of further travelers finally making it to a safe place. Often with many horse carts, and guards of every shape, form, and size. The density of which few could tell at a glance.

  Still further away though, the lumber bringers, herb gathers and magical item or weapons retrievers mostly from the city going on short outer skirmishes to obtain these valuables, all petered into nothingness. It left copious amounts of trees for hiding enemies, mountains up ahead winking maliciously at them, and open road nearly five carts across. No Roman conquers to work on improving road qualities. Many friendly species feet had patted down brown dirt, more often smoothed by the hoof, talon, and paws of large monsters that would sweep into Adville unannounced. They too wished not to be held back by the trees blocking them.

  The road weaved back and forth for no obvious reason. Although locals knew the ticks and tricks it had. But by and large, after the first two back and forth routes, one dipped deep into the larger needled trees of Douglas fir and pines. Nothing of the paths behind that went back inside Adville could be seen.

  It was a dangerous place to be on the road. Primarily because any large monster could sweep through at any time, if the tree barrier failed. People hurried through this part of the route. The group barely left the relative safety of seeing the guards before seeing the overturned cart. Deep Tuscany brown wooden boards poked out their sides rudely. A squat caravan with a terracotta tiled roof twirled two wheels aimlessly. Two dead oxen lay on the edge of the road incline that went up towards the woods. A beautiful, blonde human woman sat by the dead creatures, stress oozing off her. Thank goodness they were out of romance range and nobody would have a savior complex fit.

  Bodi whispered to Nettle. “I don’t think we should stop.”

  At the exact time, Laural called out, “Slow the caravan.”

  Since even the horse that originally belonged to Nettle listened to her, the entire party stopped. The cart drew up without the reins having any tension. The djinn stared down at the line uncomfortable. Clearly, the cart felt unwieldy in her hands. She pulled back belatedly on the reins as if to prove she’d tried to respond to the unexpected command.

  Keeping his voice low, Bodi again spoke to Nettle. “Bandits lay traps like this to catch an overly caring person. Once she fully has your attention, they swoop out to attack you. What are the chances this is an actual stranger that needs help?”

  Nettle listened to him. This attention kept him too distracted to stop Laural. She dismounted and made it over to the other young women.

  “What happened to your oxen?” She exclaimed in shock. “They’re in great condition. I wouldn’t expect this kind of death on this part of the road.

  The young woman gave a tired expression. “I fear it must be my own error. I didn’t have a choice on feed gave my oxen! Now here we are with my entire home trapped. I set out only a few hours ago. Now I’m not sure if I can stay here. If I leave, the cart will get stolen over night. I’m not sure what to do. This is my whole life’s work! I can’t leave it behind.”

  Beside the two stout oxen, the cart had fallen to the right side. The very sturdy wood bottom jutted up. The circle hoop hard top had been mostly made of a wooden frame with reinforced multicolor leathers, green, purple and blue, braided up to the top. A proper safe place in bad weather of most kinds. Nettle could see the wood had been reinforced with sturdy silver studs throughout leather and wood. This was not a one time or infrequently farm use transport, but a whole house indeed to carry a rover or a carnival act, except this woman was alone.

  “Bodi,” Laurel spoke from her spot on her none moving horse, “maybe with the horses together, we can put the cart back on its wheels. It looks a neat thing. Four of my horses are former cart haulers. So long as you don’t mind a mismatched pair, they’ll do well if you’re not too heavily laden. We can at least get you to the next stop. Or it might be easier to take you back into Adville. It’s much closer.”

  “Oh. No. Thank you. I’d much prefer continuing forward if you don’t mind. That town’s had enough.” She noticed her mistake and gave them a “oops” expression. Her honesty immediately endeared her to everyone except Bodi. The orc by now knew better than to trust smiling humans. Unease filled Bodi, the djinn seemed ok but not adding a human.

  “I think everyone should state their feelings on the matter.” Bodi suggested.

  “Fine with me,” offered Nettle. The two men checked with the djinn in the cart, but she had a blank expression and shrugged about it. As if the whole thing meant nothing to her.

  Laural, on the other hand, ignored them. Clearly a little more estrogen in the party appealed to her and she’d already started waving her over before the discussion ended.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  Bodi leaned over to say far too loudly, “I’m not sure we should be picking up people we don’t know anything about. She might be trouble. None of us have vetted her or even know anything about her. It could be a trap.”

  Nettle winced.

  “If it’s a trap, why would they choose such a nice wagon? You can probably sell that thing alone for a few pretty penny. Besides,” Laural further waved at their newest member, “The horses can tell these things. She’s good.”

  “Horse sense doesn’t sound like a reliable indicator,” grumbled Bodi who’s horse snorted back in disagreement. Nobody mentioned how Sleepnir had been planning to take Kriti’s head off earlier in the day.

  Nettle offered unhelpfully. “I like her shoes.”

  “While we do appreciate your general knowledge of nothing about people or trips, I wanted it noted that I don’t know if we should.” Kriti offered carefully.

  Bodi squinted, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. He’d have kicked the horse forward if the darned thing wouldn’t have ignored him to follow Laural instructions. He didn’t like how it seemed all of the sudden that everyone voted. The leader should be the one who paid or knew the most. Something the most. He’d accept the most violent, the most cunning, the most powerful, something most. Somebody most. He didn’t want to be most anymore. Never most again.

  “You have every right to be nervous having met me and under such unusual circumstances. Perhaps you might step down and get to know me better. We can all go around and make sure there are no bandits circling my home and your supplies on the packhorses. That’s a very fair choice and I too have heard of those on the side of the road bandits that pretend to be in distress. It’s fair if you choose to go on as well, you’re under no obligation to help me.”

  She stood very tall and straight. “My name is Tragedeigh. Who are you all?”

  Nettle performed an awkwardly formal bow, then waved to the others. “I’m Nettle. My companions are Bodi and Laural. That’s uh, uh, the, a djinn. We are pleased to meet you. Or I am.”

  “It’s an honor. Do any of you like tea? I’ve got quite a few options: chamomile, Early Grey, raspberry leaf, jasmine, you name it I probably have it.”

  At the blank expressions and none of them getting off their horses, she gave an even brighter smile. “What am I thinking of? Men like you would prefer a bit of my smoked salmon jerky.”

  That did get Bodi off his horse practically before she’d finished speaking. Grumbling under his breath to himself about being a leader of the party, Nettle asked, “Do you have any sweets? I’ve got the greatest hankering for a smidge of candied pecans. Alas, I forgot to pack them this morning. I felt so foolish stocking them when I could use the space more effectively.”

  She smiled then less of a brightness and more real. “I love candied pecans. I’ve got almonds, pistachios, and a few others as well. Maybe a cashew or two.”

  The Fae practically glowed. “Really? Oh, we might try those.”

  She went into her cart using a key to open the back door of it and came out after grunting in frustration, to produce the jerky for Bodi and Nettles candied pecans. Both fell on the food like they’d been in several cart crash events and not eaten lunch when they could be fighting instead. To Laural, she offered a handful of carrots.

  “For the horses and yourself naturally.”

  Laural took the fresh bundle with a tinge of suspicion. “You must travel a lot to be so well stocked with things that all of us love the most.”

  “I carry a good supply outside the bigger cities. My family travels in short spurts and periods. It’s common in my family to take time between your childhood and childrearing years to go out and see the world some. If we were Mormon, it would be called a mission. But we’re not Mormons so don’t worry. It’s more of a gain joy and to learn more about the world thing. We often go in larger groups, but I had a few more particular interests so I’m on my own for this section. I’m actually traveling to the Library at Desserts. They say there are some older texts in human languages that specify gourmands and gastronomes ideal idolatry eateries.”

  “Are you a scholar?” Nettle dropped his aloofness which might be because he was licking his fingers of sugar and shooting obvious excited glances at the back off the cart. He clearly wanted to know if Tragedeigh had any more goodies hidden in the back of her caravan. Clearly, he would have followed anyone with candy into a white van without hesitation. Bodi reflected Nettle would be the type to thank his kidnappers for the lift.

  “Not much of a scholar, yet. But I am looking into a few things for my father. He’s quite learned but so very busy. If I gather the texts and copy them, then he can read them and use it to further his own research into the medical practice of humans eating and review the ancient texts of architecture not located at the Library of Desserts.”

  “What style does he prefer in the eleventh or twelfth reign of Burbery?”

  He blurted it out in the manner more of a schoolmarm than as an interrogation method.

  Nonetheless, he got a doubletake from everyone. Burbery, an obscure choice. He gave them an open expression, but none of them were fooled. He might be curious, but he was also testing Day’s story. To see what she’d say about the topic.

  “He prefers the Tok’ra,” Nettle’s expression fell slightly, but she added, “Although I think he said the Picasso style has merit. It’s never been my main area of interest.”

  Nettle returned to his more bland self then as if her misstep awakened his memories of his typical attitude.

  “I see. Then it wouldn’t be a great overlap into my particular area of interest. Obviously, I have more a Fae bent myself, but I can see why others prefer the more concrete styles in the actuality and actuary ways. Laural, prepare your horses. Let’s get this back on track. We can discuss the particulars later, but if we spend all day snacking and chatting, we’ll never get anywhere at all. And we’re really behind for day one.”

  It had been a transparent test, but Bodi reflected, he’d not needed to hide it much. Clearly the sweets already won him over as well as her friendly nature. More to the point without them being attack or rushed or pushed to do anything, it was likely they had little fear from the woman overpowering them.

  The djinn seemed actually to be the most reluctant having never come down from her spot. She had watched the whole thing with careful assessing eyes. She’s also been well positioned in case someone should have come out of the woods. If she had any sort of ranged weapon, she could have attacked them at distance.

  Bodi wondered how much their new cook could handle. Perhaps she’d been comfortable coming down for them spot, or maybe she’d been watching their backs better than he could without keeping Nettle well covered. Maybe she’d just been uncomfortable stepping down off the cart. But it had been curious.