The silence is slightly awkward for the first few minutes that Josephine is gone. Elizabeth invites us to sit near the fire, and we huddle around the hearth to warm our hands. The old lady busies herself around the cramped room, tidying and straightening her meager belongings. She offers us tea or rum, and we all decline politely, feeling that we would be taking straight from a starving person’s mouth.

                We don’t say much at first, but I notice Gus and Ellie sit very close, and every now and again he reaches out and bumps the toe of his shoe against her boot.

                I twiddle my thumbs for a moment, and then say, low enough so that just the two of them can hear, “I think this is the first time we’ve got a chance to sit down and breath.”

                “Not since the campfire, with the pirates…” Ellie pauses, glancing at my face, and I duck my head slightly so that my hair falls over my eyes, watching the flames jump in the fireplace through the strands of my hair. The flames make my hair glow even more brightly, as if I’ve caught fire.

                Again, I think of Jasper’s lips on mine, and then try to shove the idea to the back of my mind. I’ll never see him again, so there’s no use in obsessing over it.

                “You know,” Gus’ voice is a low murmur over the snap of the flames, “I know we’ve been shot at, people have tried to stab us, monsters have tried to eat us…and keep trying, but honestly…it’s actually been better than a lot of my time on the streets.”

                I can’t help but smile a little at that, because it’s true. On the street I didn’t have anyone watching my back for me, and now I have two people. Having friends was a rare privilege for someone whose only thoughts had been food and staying alive up until now.

                “I have to agree with that one. It’s different now…” Ellie murmurs, “with you two. I don’t think I would have survived on my own.”

                “You would have adapted,” Gus says confidently, “we all do, sooner or later. That’s why we’re called street rats, because we’re resilient…like rats.”

                “You flatter us all, sir.” I drawl at him, and he and Ellie both laugh. Then Gus’ face gets serious again, painted in black and gold by the light of the fire, “really though, my street rat days weren’t so bad…I mean, they were better than what I came from.”

                “I think that goes for all of us,” I lean forward and cup my chin in my hands, looking from Gus to Ellie, “I know what happened with you, Ellie, evil fiancé and all that….but Gus…what’s your story…” I stutter to a halt at the look on his face, “I mean….sorry, I shouldn’t ask.”

                “No, you should,” he shakes his head, “I think it’s good to talk about it. You know, it helps…” he stares into the fire, orange flames reflected in his dark eyes, “sometimes it helps to talk about it….”

                Ellie tightens her grip on his hand, and Gus takes a deep breath, “I was an only child. My old man was the reason I left, really. I grew up with him taking his hot temper out on my mother and I. Sometimes we could avoid making him angry, but on the days he’d come home smelling like cheap whiskey, it could be any little thing that set him off. He was unpredictable on those days. I hated it, seeing my mother get hit, having to clean her blood off the floor when she was too weak to do it herself…” his fingers curl tightly around the arms of the chair, and Ellie and I both simply stare at him, neither of knowing what to say. 

                “I kept thinking to myself, that when I was big enough, I would stop him from doing it. I would hit him back. Finally, one day I did it. I was big enough to stop him, and when he went to hit my mother, I put a stop to it before he could. He was furious,” Gus frowned, brows creased with the weight of distant memories, “he went to hit me instead and I hit him again. And again. Beat him up pretty bad, but no worse than he’d beat me or mother…” his face twisted, something like rage and pain crossing his features, “my mother screamed at me, called me a coward and said I was a horrible son. Couldn’t believe I’d hit my own father. She went on and on, she even slapped my face.” He shook his head helplessly, “I couldn’t believe it. All I’d wanted to do was to stop the beatings, to stop him from hitting her, but she acted like I’d betrayed her. So…I left. She obviously didn’t want or need my help. It took all my self-control not to kill the bastard before I left. To really put an end to all of it, but…it wasn’t worth it.”

                Ellie squeezes his hand and says softly, “you did the right thing, Gus. You couldn’t do anything more for either of them.”

                I narrow my eyes at the fire, “When a woman don’t want to be saved from the man beating on her, she’s got more problems than she knows…”

                Gus scratches the back of his neck, shifting in his chair uncomfortably, “sometimes I feel like a coward for leaving. Like I should have stayed and tried to fight for her.”

                “Sound like she didn’t want to be fought for,” I say, “sounds like anymore help you tried to give would be greeted with nothing but hostility. You could do nothing but waste your life away in that kind of situation. Me, I knew I had to get out of my house as soon as I hit thirteen.  My ma had a dozen screaming kids and a good-for-nothing husband that never did a days work in his life. She couldn’t feed us all, not the way things were going,” I scuff the toe of my boot along the floor, watching as my foot carves a spot in the dust, “it was beg and steal on the street or slowly starve to death at home. So we left. Some of us stayed together for awhile, most of us didn’t last…” I think bitterly, of the last time I saw my brother, how he thought nothing of stealing the scrap of bread I’d managed to scrounge. Good riddance to the lot of them.

                “Things are better now,” Ellie says brightly, “we’re by a warm fire…”

                “Course, we’re going to have to fight a murderous wizard,” Gus says, and I shake my head at him, “not we, just me. You two are going to stay far away from him. Magic works on you just fine.”

                Gus glares at me. “there must be some way we can help.”

                The door creaks before I can say anything else, and we all jump, whirling about and ready for a fight. It’s only Josephine though. She slips inside quietly, and I notice right away that she has a long, curved sword in one hand. It’s slightly longer than the one Jasper gave me, but to my relief it looks roughly the same shape. Maybe It won’t feel so foreign in my grip. I’m no sword master though, so I have no idea how the witch thinks I’m going to be able to kill this dark wizard of hers.

                “We must hurry,” Josephine says firmly, “the palace guards are searching the village.”

                I dart one hand into my pocket, fingering the jewel, “where are we going to do this?”

                “I think an open space would be best,” the witch holds the sword out to me, “here, take it, feel the balance and get used to it.”

                She continues to talk as I draw the sword, gripping it with both hands. It’s heavy, but it feels pretty good when I give it a little test swing.

                “I think the best chance we’ll have is the element of surprise. Molly, as soon as I break the spell you have to attack him. He’ll be confused at first, it may take him several seconds to realize what’s happened. You want to use this confusion to your advantage. Jump in and cut his head off.”

                I grimace at her. She certainly doesn’t beat around the bush at all, does she? Gus jumps back as I swing the sword in an arch around me, “careful!”

                “I have to test the reach,” I say, “watch yourself, don’t get in the way.”

                “Back up a bit, you’re going to disembowel someone,” he retorts.

                “The only person I’m going to do that to is the dratted wizard,” I grin at him, trying to sound and appear confident, since Ellie and Gus both look nervous and shaky, “don’t you worry.”

                “Oh, not worried,” Gus mutters, “not at all.”

                He and Ellie exchange a look that isn’t lost on me, and I try to ignore it. They’re obviously not confident in my swordsmanship skills, and who can blame them?  I’ve only ever fought other people who hadn’t much idea what they were doing either, thieves and other street rats, flailing pirates and plague monsters. What if the wizard was a skilled fighter? No, the what if was ridiculous. He was likely to be one. More than likely.

                “I think the market square will work for the confrontation,” Josephine says, she turns to the old lady, who sits in a rocking chair in the back, watching the goings-on with a frightened expression, “thank you for letting us stay here, Elizabeth. You shan’t see us again until this thing is finished.”

                She let the unspoken words hang in the air around us. If you see us again.

                “Glad to help, Josie.” Elizabeth croaked nervously, “I do hope all goes well for you.”

                Josephine bobs her head  and says goodbye, and we all chorus our thank-you’s for the hospitality she’s shown us.