They barely slept that night. Every couple of hours the baby squirmed and then let out a yowl. The horses huffed and stomped with the disruptions. Marin and Tilly took turns dripping milk into the babe's mouth, wiping her down, changing her rags, cleaning the dirty ones and twisting them out to dry. They spent a good part of the night pacing the stall back and forth, bouncing their knees and patting the baby's back. In the morning their clothes weren't just covered in the bloodstains from her birth, but in spit-up and baby poop too.

Marin wasn't sure if he had ever looked or felt so awful before in all of his life. But true to their words, when the rooster sang his song to announce the sun's arrival, Marin and Tilly packed up and left the stall.

"Should we go ask my father for breakfast before we leave?" Marin asked. "He could provide us with fresh rags, too. I never knew that something so small could make such a mess."

"That's a good idea, but, isn't it a risk? To stand by the gates with this baby? Especially after what happened last night with Ryder."

"You're probably right, but isn't it a risk that we have to take? She's so new to the world. Less than twenty-four hours old," Marin reasoned.

Bedraggled, the pair made their way towards the gates. Hobard was not there to meet them, believing that they had already left. "I'll go find him," Tilly said, holding the baby out to hand over.

"No. We're leaving The Order, anyway. I'll go. What's the worse that can happen?"

As soon as Marin passed through the gates, stepping on the soil that he had called home during his formative years, his eyes swept over the magnificent medicinal garden. There were so many herbs and roots and flowers. And although the growing chill in the air had wilted many of the leaves, and many of the plants had been covered with rough hewn fabrics to protect them from the coming frost, the beautiful horticulture still amazed him. Part of him regretted leaving this place that had nurtured his healing abilities for so long. But he knew he was making the best choice.

"What are you doing here?" Ryder walked over and confronted him. He was probably on his way to the stables.

"Don't worry. We are leaving. I just wanted to say goodbye to my father."

Luckily, Hobard was walking out of the monastery, and seeing Marin, he walked over. Ryder just huffed, sounding almost like the horses he cared for, and stomped off.

"What are you still doing here?" Hobard asked.

Marin almost laughed at how he had been asked the same question twice, albeit in two very different tones. "Tilly and I spent the night in the stables. We decided it was for the best, being that it was so late. Can I ask you for one more morning of breakfast before we begin our journey?"

Hobard looked around. "Yes. Meet me outside the gates."

A few minutes later, Marin and Tilly were devouring two bowls of hot porridge as Hobard held his newest grandchild.

"Thank you so much," Tilly said when she had finished.

"No need to thank me," Hobard replied. "We are family now. Just be safe. And both of you, take care of each other."

"We will, father," Marin responded, standing. "We better go. I'll miss you."

With a kiss, Hobard handed the baby back to Tilly. He then drew his son in for a hug. "Be well. Send my love to Hobson and everyone else."

"Of course," Marin said, returning the hug. "I love you." And then they were off.

Full, but still dreary, their feet occasionally dragging, and their eyes wanting to close, they made it down the hill.

Their first stop was the butcher shop. The one where they had gone immediately after the babe was born. Greta ushered them back behind the curtain again and allowed them to fill the skin with fresh goat's milk. Marin felt a prickle on the back of his neck at being so close to Greggory's tavern. What if Jocelyn changed her mind and took the baby back? Or Albert saw them and went into some unfounded rage? Nothing good seemed to come from being in this part of town.

Tilly must have shared his fears, for as soon as they had the milk that they needed, they dashed down the street, winding through side allies, until they made their way to the market.

This late in the morning, most farmers had already arrived and set up stalls around the periphery of the large square, but few venders were close to being done selling their produce. Tilly and Marin walked through the market. Tilly had a few coins in her bag and they stopped to buy a few apples to save for later.

After milling around for a bit, visiting a few different stalls, purchasing a loaf of bread, admiring some scented candles, browsing through a pile of dyed wool, Marin finally saw the face he had been looking for. Harlow had his donkey tied to a post, and he was selling stalks of Brussels sprouts, carrots, parsnip, and turnips from the back of his wagon.

Marin and Tilly waited until there was an ebb in customers, and then they approached the farmer. "Hello, Harlow. How are Berta and Agnes doing?" Marin asked.

Harlow looked up with his brows bunched together. For a moment Marin thought the man didn't recognize him. Then his brows popped up, and he smiled. "Marin! So good to see you again. Berta and Agnes are both doing wonderful, thanks to you."

"Oh, that is so great to hear," Marin said, smiling back at the man.

"Would you like some carrots? Anything, really." He spread out his arms and nodded at the pile of vegetables he was selling.

"Well, actually, I had a favor to ask you. We are off to visit my brother again in Addersfield, and–"

"Of course I can offer you a ride. And I am sure that the girls would love to see you again." And then Harlow turned to Tilly, noticing her for the first time. "And, who is your friend?"

Marin was unsure of how honestly to answer. Harlow knew he was a medic. And medics don't marry. Don't have children. But if this man was willing to help them, it shouldn't be under false pretenses. So Marin reached out and placed a hand on the small of Tilly's back. It was the first public gesture of affection he had shown her, and a shiver ran down his spine. "I will not lie to you. This is Tilly, she was a nutrix. And this–this is our daughter. We fell in love and are leaving The Order." Marin took a deep breath. "I will understand if you withdraw your offer of hospitality."

But Harlow just nodded. "I know what it's like to start over."

Relief flooded through Marin's veins. He had told the truth and had not been punished.

"Is it okay if we sit?" Tilly asked. "We haven't been sleeping much."

Harlow laughed at this statement. "You probably won't be sleeping again for several years. And, that's if you're lucky. Of course you can sit down. Here, take this stool."

Tilly sat down, and a yawn escaped her lips.

"Thank you for being so willing to help," Marin said earnestly.

"Marin, you saved my daughters. Gave them a new will to live. I haven't seen them this happy since, well, since their mother left us. And I owe that to you. Now that you have a daughter of your own, maybe you can appreciate how important that is."

Marin and Tilly stayed with Harlow until most of his vegetables had sold. It was still relatively early when he closed up shop and return home. Marin climbed up to sit next to Harlow on the cart's driver's seat while Tilly and the baby lay down on the soft straw in the back.

As the donkey plodded along the street, dragging them out of the city and up the foothills, Marin took a moment to look back at Curander. He was leaving. For good. Even just this last spring, the thought of leaving would never have even crossed his mind. He loved being a medic. Healing. Living with his father. Being seen as a man. But he loved Tilly more. And this was a chance at a new life that he couldn't pass up.

He may be leaving so much behind, but he was taking everything with him.