The hills were hard on the horse. He was used to open territory, and so was Gershwin. It was so difficult to judge where a hill would abruptly become a cliff, where a river too wide or too deep would spring up. So he and the horse took it slowly, despite his desire to push the stallion on at breakneck speeds. Despite the stallion's desire to run forever.

Gershwin couldn't afford the stallion getting a twisted ankle or broken leg, though. There was nowhere to hide with a stolen horse, and only false promises would get him what he needed in such an occurance. Right now, he'd rather not. There were too many people. It would very possibly come back and bite him. Hard.

It was a risk he wouldn't take right now.

So he and the stallion walked carefully, slowly, taking roads when necessary.

It annoyed him, but it was more desireable considering the alternate option.

The countryside here was wide and flat and empty. Dry grasses covered the ground from the bridge to the distant, equally desolate-looking treeline.

Faline brought Quetz close. "Breathe so much as a spark and you're going to get it."

Quetz squirmed under her glare and took off into the woods, running off his annoyance. Faline rolled her eyes. "Where are we going?" she asked, turning to Camphor, who looked very stiff and uncomfortable. "Are you okay?"

Camphor held his entire right arm iron-straight. "There's a town," he said, his voice strained. "Soon. We'll be there soon."

Faline continued to pull the cart full of casket-making supplies along the dirt path. She heard no birds, saw no tracks, nothing.

"Uh, Camphor," she said quietly.

"Through the woods."

Faline got a wince of pain from Quetz before the roar exploded out of him, shaking the trees as well as the earth beneath them. "I'm not sure that's the safest idea," she said, her voice shaking, more with fear for Quetz than fear for her life.

Camphor didn't answer. He reached over into the cart and grabbed his axe and took off running into the woods. Faline strung her bow, grabbed her quivver, and followed as quickly as she could, leaving the cart behind.

Janice felt the tiny, curious pokes to her brain. She opened an eye and felt cool rags on her forehead and saw the little brown dragon on her chest. She was very heavy for such a small thing.

"Oh gracious," she moaned. "You're not a hallucination."

~Nope!~ the voice rang through her head quite merrily. ~'Cha doin'?~

"This winged rat seems to think it belongs to you," Feivel said gruffly.

"Then the rest of those things weren't--"

~Nope!~ The little dragon buzzed her wings cheerily before floating effortlessly to hover in the air, her nose mere breaths from Janice's. She stared with huge green eyes, pupilless and brilliant and captivating and--

~'Cha doin'?~ she insisted.

"I'm lying here," Janice said, thinking it a bit obvious.

~You find name.~

Feivel looked at them strangely. "I've decided not to ask," he announced. "I'm going to see what kind of provisions I can find."

"Provisions?" Janice asked, trying to sit upright. SHe felt dizzy and flopped back immediately.

"We're leaving," he explained, reaching the door.

"But I--"

"Too bad."

"Don't I--"

"No."

He closed the door behind him.

"Oh," she said.

~Need naaaaame,~ the little dragon whined.

"oh," Janice said, turning back to her. She stared at her while she itched herself with her teeth by her ankle wings.

"I always liked Kendra," she said. "I would have named my daughter that if I had one."

~No baby?~ Kendra asked, stopping her itching.

"No."

~Why?~

"I'm not pretty enough," Janice said, shocked that it would even be a question.

~Why?~

Janice blinked. She touched her hand gently to her twin, a mark of shame for her family, and pulled her hair to cover it. "It's complicated," she said, but Kendra was more interested in the window and watching the town pass by.

Lina was giving her a dark look. Marley could feel it crawling on her neck as the girls dried the herbs they had gathered. Marley turned to meet the glare.

Lina looked away.

Marley went back to work on putting the finances in order.

Not five minutes later, she felt the glare on her neck again. She turned again. Lina looked away again.

"Lina," she said. "Speak your mind."

Lina put down the heavy knife with which she was mincing the Wadish cabbage to be cured. "What you're doing for Danke isn't right," she said crisply.

The other girls tried to pretend they weren't listening. But Marley knew they were soaking up everything that would be said. Some were Danke's age, or even younger. Literally girls. Someone would have to teach them the ways of the world. Their mothers, after all, were clearly doing a piss-poor job of it.

"What isn't right about it?" Marley asked.

"We came to you about this because she's one of us, one of your girls. We thought that you would help her. Instead, you're abandoning her. It isn't right."

Marley considered her evenly. She turned to the rest of them. "You feel this way, too?" she asked.

They all looked away.

"I see." She shook her head. "What would you ahve me do? Stage some elaborate rescue and ferret her away somewhere?"

"You could try," Lina said.

"Do you have any idea what they would do to me?" she hissed.

They all looked away again. Lina looked down. "It would be better than giving her up."

"We could fight it in court," Agnes piped up.

"THey can't deny us all," Thedis agreed.

Marley laughed bitterly as they all became enticed by this idea. Slowly, they all hushed again and stared worriedly at her. "You want to take the men to task in their own court," she echoed. "Oh, you idealistic little fools."

They all looked away again, obviously stung.

"What would you say? That she can't be a witch because she's so sweet and innocent and you've known her all your life?"

"Well..." Agnes began but stopped herself.

"Would that not imply that you are either bewitched by her or a sister witch?"

No one answered.

"It's a horrible truth to know," Marley said quietly, almost but not quite sympathetically. "And this is a dangerous profession for the naiive. Would you burn with her? Would you have the rest of us burn?"

Again, no one answered.

"The only way," she continued, "to avoid the fire is acquiesce. THey are men. They are violent by nature. They need pain and bloodshed to be content. The army is at peace. In a garrison town, we must give them what they want to an extent. We must be yielding, or we will all be consumed.

"But we must also keep our distance," she continued. "A woman too free to give them what they want is trouble for other women. It is a delicate balance, and once you know it, you are safe."

The girls all stared at her with wide eyes.

"I told Danke this: I have worked too hard to be consumed in the fires. I will not let her drag me, or any of you, down for her stupidity."

"How will we know this balance?" Thedis asked, awed.

"Men want three things: Blood, sex, and power. Blood, they can get well enough from each other. Sex, sometimes, too. Rarely do they get power over each other. Our role is to make them think they have all of this, while giving them none unless we will it so. We walk in groups for protection, we look away and defer to them while giving coy looks, giggling foolishly. And we never meet them alone where others cannot see us. If we do, they are liable to take from us that which we would not otherwise give willingly."

"But we cannot keep them from bloodshed," Lina argued.

Marley snorted. "We are medicine women," she snapped. "We hold life and death in our hands. Subtly, we may induce an infection in one, cure another. 'The prescription was not followed,' we say. 'The herbs did not take,' we say. 'Infection was already there,' we say. A man - even a doctor - does not know the difference between herbs. We do. And we use this power to our advantage."

She paused. She had them. Now, to reassert the point to this tirade.

"We must pick our battles," she said quietly. "This is not one we can win." She turned back to the balances. "The herbs will not dry themselves."

In a flurry of understanding, the girls scrambled back to work.