<html> <body> Part 2 of 3 Metamor Keep: Dance of the Betrothed by Charles Matthias Lenora always enjoyed visits to the Narrows. At Metamor, even among her father's merchant companions and their families, most of whom were rats as they, there was a sense they had to prove their worth as rats every day. Here in the Narrows rats were beautiful and respected. All the rats she knew in Metamor possessed an air of defense as they went about their daily tasks whether they be trading and bartering among the merchant class or wooing the nobility and wealthy aristocracy for position and status. The Matthias family showed her nothing of the sort; they were open and eager to welcome her, complimenting her on her beauty without having to boast of being rats. To be a rat was not a banner to be raised as a weapon against those still human or those who'd become large beasts with claws and fangs suited to war. Being a rat was simply what they were; being a rat was loved for its own sake and nothing more. Not to say Lenora did not love Metamor nor her friends there. She loved the city of her birth with its boundless variety, boisterous life, dress, food, and music, breathtaking architectural beauty, and even its burgeoning intrigue. Her earliest memories were dangling by her snout and claws from her father's counting table while he was arranging some deal; she had always begged him to let her move the stones and how she savored the look of pride in his eyes when she finally learned the art. When each deal was complete her father and the trader would shake hands and place the other on each others' shoulder; she'd squeaked in surprise and joy the first time a trader turned to her to do the same. So when the time came for her and Erick to wed and live in the Narrows she knew she would miss it. But at least the company of the Matthias rats would be sweet salve for the pain. The journey from Metamor had devoured their morning and if not for the basket of bread, cheese, and fruit she'd packed the night before she'd be famished. The streets of Metamor had been filled with merchants going hither and thither and then the road to Tarrelton was swamped with fur traders down from the north and soldiers patrolling the woods making progress slow and tedious. Her father and Master Gibson rode with her and they spent the hours talking of affairs of family and of fortune. Lenora listened, gnawed her chewstick when the need touched her, and offered a word or two when rat and frog fell silent. They greeted her thoughts with delight, her father smiling in approval and Gibson nodding his ponderous head, yellow eyes brimming at his friend's pride. When they reached the Narrows both her father and Gibson left the carriage to ride the rest of the way, leaving Lenora to herself. She enjoyed another of her father's chewsticks and listened to the creak of wagon wheels, the heavy gait of horses, the muttering of the men driving them, and the faint sounds of the forest beyond her windows. She watched the trees and wondered what the woodland life was like. She smiled as she remembered the Baroness dressing her in some of Nat's clothing so she could learn to climb with Nat and her older sisters. She'd been so afraid of slipping her little claws dug in tight with every step; she'd had no idea how strong they were until then. The reverie was cut short when they reached the gatehouse. Lenora listened to her father and the Baron greeting one another while she tidied her dress and the ribbons on her tail. Once satisfied she poked her snout of the window and squeaked her disapproval; the two wagons in front were blocking her view! Put out, she sat back down and crossed her arms. Lenora only stood again once the caravan came to a second stop, now at the base of the inner wall leading into Matthias Keep. Their driver, a black-furred bear with lighter face, opened the door of her carriage, “We've arrived at the Narrows, Mistress. We have to walk the rest of the way to the Keep.” “Very well.” She stepped from the wagon and smiled up to the bear; even with him on the ground and she on the carriage steps he was two heads taller. “Please bring the satchel with father's gifts, Clark. Baroness Kimberly will know to whom each goes.” The bear nodded his head and offered her a warm smile. “My pleasure.” He had been in father's employ as driver and personal guard since she was a ratling and used to let her ride on his back in both man-like and beast shape. He was twice her size and would have done so still if she asked. While Clark attended to their supplies in the rear of the carriage, Lenora cast her eyes across the low wall protecting the town and spotted the Matthias clan gathered to welcome them. Her eyes at first touched upon her friend Natalie, the one rat sister her age, and then slipped to the other hooded-black-over-white rat nearby. Her betrothed. Erick Matthias was three years older than she, with a short, stout frame like his father's. He wore a brown tunic and green vest of decent if not fine quality, but nothing to decorate fur, ears, or tail. He did not even don shoes, his long toes splayed in the dirt like another hand. Competent if not seasoned as a warrior, he still had the bearing and poise mastered from years of training. He was a very handsome rat. His dark eyes, almost lost in the black fur of his face, caught her gaze. For a moment his jaws opened in surprise; she even saw his tongue behind his incisors. Then he spun away, almost running up the hill behind their fathers, long tail bouncing behind him. Lenora laughed to herself, whiskers lifting with her smile. Handsome and cute too. ---------- “It is not much, but at least there is one room in this cramped castle a woman can feel a lady.” Lenora sat down on a corner of the satin chaise, tail draping over one end, and smiled to her hostess. “Thank you, Baroness. This is from Urseil's is it not? And do I smell Jardin perfume?” The small parlor within Matthias Keep had two chaise lounges around a hearth, cabinets along either wall with mirrors and grooming kits, and adorned with vases with flowers, a service with a supply of wine, cheese, fruit, bread, and chocolate, and a few cushioned stools. The room and its furnishings were decorated in bright but soft colors and illuminated by a small fire and a score of witchlights hiding in a glass chandelier. After half-a-dozen years of use by the Matthias women the strongest scent was rat, but as this was so familiar and welcome to her she barely noticed; the flavor of fire, the luxury of chocolate, and the tantalizing bouquet of perfume were what her nose savored. She had only sat down and already Lenora felt relaxed. Baroness Kimberly had brought a small sample of the aristocratic life from the great cities to the Narrows. “Very good, Lenora!” Kimberly smiled as she stepped to the service and glanced at the morsels arrayed there. Her two eldest daughters, Bernadette and Baerle, were sitting upon the stools, while the two girls from her third litter, Mary and Theresa, were grooming their older sister's fur with little combs and tying ribbons around their ears and tails. “I bought it when we visited Metamor for the Summer Festival. So many of the perfumes they sell are too strong for rats, but Jardin's was so gentle I couldn't resist. And the satin is from Urseil; a gift from Kendrick three years ago we were finally able to use. How is he and Lydia? They have not visited the Narrows since; I hear they have a daughter now?” Lenora nodded. “Last year. Eselbaeth is a pangolin too, just like her older brother. And Lydia is expecting again. The whole Urseil family has not stopped celebrating for months!” Kimberly beamed at the news. “Wonderful. I will write them a congratulatory note. Charles wanted to invite them to the wedding, but he wanted to invite half of Metamor too.” Bernadette's ears perked and her bright tan fur thrummed with her whiskers. Lenora turned to her and offered a warm, incisor-filled smile. “I am so happy for you, Bernadette. Godfrey is such a good man. You are going to be so beautiful at his side. Have you your dress?” In truth, Lenora did not know the groundhog; she had only seen him in passing on earlier visits to the Narrows and the Glen. He was a journeyman carpenter with some skill but even when he became a master it was unlikely he would have renown in Metamor. Bernadette shook her head. “It is almost ready. It's going to be so beautiful, with lace flower cups down my back and tail and a crown of white roses in my ears. But oh, Lenora, you are looking quite lovely already.” “And would you care for anything to eat?” Kimberly asked, her eyes noting her four daughters before returning to Lenora. “You must be famished after such a long journey.” “I would care for something, thank you, Baroness. As long as there is some chocolate I'll eat anything else!” “Oh yes, chocolate!” Bernadette agreed. Next to her Baerle nodded, though her enthusiasm was restrained to a whisker-dancing smile. The two younger sisters quivered but kept to their duties. Kimberly prepared a small plate of morsels and a small glass of wine for Lenora before settling herself down on the other lounge. The purple stone medallion bounced atop her bodice while she straightened her sky-blue dress. “Mary, Theresa, be dears and bring your sisters and I something to eat as well. Then you may groom our guest until she is satisfied.” “I do not...” But the Baroness cut her off with a glance. “You have had a fatiguing journey, Lenora. They will only freshen you for the Narrows.” Lenora picked up a small morsel of chocolate. The flavor was divine, and inside the nugget her incisors found a piece of walnut. She let the sweet, richness permeate her mouth. All the while she watched the younger sisters, both with dark brown fur like their father, ready plates for the elder sisters and their mother. “I hear Mary and Theresa will be going to Metamor soon. Duchess Sutt is taking them on with their brothers for a year and teaching them to serve house. Or so I heard.” “Aye,” Kimberly replied with a fondness and a touch of regret in her eyes. “We will miss them here, as we do Peter and Timothy, but it is important all our children know how to keep a house for when they marry.” Or, Lenora thought to herself, if they do not marry and need employ themselves as a servant to a wealthy house. As nobility they would never be common servants, but they might be stewards or mistresses of kitchens and the like. The Matthias house had almost no money and as a new house, few prospects for marriage. Their remaining children would all be forced into the life of soldiers, scholars, servants, or laborers if they did not show talent with magic like Natalie or a calling to religious life like Baerle. Perhaps only Erick – and his brother Charlie – would be able to truly lead a noble's life. How she wished she could help. “My father does have something for them, and for you both too. Clark carried it in the satchel there.” The bear, who waited patiently outside the parlor in an antechamber so small he could almost touch opposite walls and ceiling without stretching, had left the satchel beside Kimberly's lounge. The lady rat shifted about, bunching her dress beneath her legs and tail, and opened the satchel. She peered inside and poked about while Mary and Theresa brought trays and little glasses of wine to Bernadette and Baerle. They came up to Lenora, gave curtsies with eager smiles, before moving behind her. She felt little clawed fingers begin teasing at the veil behind her ears and the ribbons on her tail. They even undid the strings of her blouse and exposed her back. She chittered in pleasure as they ran soft brushes through her fur. “Oh my sweet Eli, look what treasures Master Julian has brought for each of you,” Kimberly gasped as she sat back up. In one hand she held an emerald brooch cut in the shape of a heart and inlaid in a medallion of gold, and in the other a set of prayer beads; the chain holding the beads was gossamer thin weave of gold, and each bead a colorful stone of iolite, hematite, and chrysolite; the Pater Noster stones were tiger's eye. Each gift was worth more than the sum of all the gifts her father had ever given the Matthias children. “I've never seen anything so beautiful!” Bernadette stammered and squeaked. She almost dropped the plate of cheese and chocolate as she stumbled toward her mother. Baerle was only a touch more composed than her sister, setting her plate on the stool before stealing across the room to run her fingers in awe down the length of the chain, claws touching each bead with wonder. “A Queen's prayers. I am not... Oh so beautiful!” Kimberly allowed Baerle to cradle the prayer beads in her hands before turning and securing the brooch about Bernadette's neck. The green heart settled above her breasts in her soft tan fur. “It's... like the heart of the forest. I love it! Oh, Lenora, your father is such a wonderful man. Do you see it? I... I cannot believe it!” Lenora beamed, and picked up a piece of cheese between two claws. “Father had it commissioned the moment we heard of your betrothal. And the same with your prayer beads when we heard you were thinking of joining the nunnery. Have you decided?” Baerle shook her head, eyes never leaving the beads which she pressed to her snout as if kissing them. “Mother Wilfrida asked me to spend this year discerning at home before I entered as a postulant. But...” She lifted her eyes and they met her mother's. There was a look of uncertainty between them; Kimberly did not wish to lose her daughter, and Baerle knew she would miss her bountiful and loving family. “But all I want to do is pray and be with our Lord Yahshua.” Sadness touched Lenora's heart for a moment. Everywhere she went she saw daughters with their mothers and was witness to both the love they shared and the stormy battles they fought. She would never know them but for a cross of stone behind the nunnery where her father and she laid roses and kisses. Perhaps, after the marriage, she would know a mother's love from Kimberly. “And there is something in here for both of you,” Kimberly announced as she turned back to the satchel. “Mary, Theresa, once you are finished come and I'll help you put them on.” “What are they?” Theresa squeaked, her claws pausing a moment as she worked a small sponge along the back of Lenora's tail. Lenora could smell the faint touch of vanilla in whatever soap they used to clean the road dust from her tail. “Lace asters.” Kimberly lifted what appeared to be a purple flower with a yellow center from the satchel. “You will tie them about your ear for a lovely color.” Kimberly twirled the golden bands of lace between her fingers to show them. Mary and Theresa chittered their delight while Lenora smiled; she helped her father select them. Asters grew in abundance in the mountain hills above the Narrows and she'd helped Nat pick some on her last visit. “So, Lenora, what news of Metamor do you bring?” Lenora was happy to talk of the affairs of the merchant class and their families. She shared gossip about the Hassan daughters and some of Bryn, but with the Hassan family visiting the southern fiefs for the last month there was little new they had not already heard at the Festival. She mentioned as much as she knew about the Steward's family and the family of Kimberly's old friend Bernadette the mouse from her days serving in the Keep's Kitchens. “Now I only heard this yesterday, so I do not know if it is true,” Lenora said after savoring the last of the chocolate. Mary and Theresa had finished cleaning her fur and tail and now sat with their mother having their gifts straightened; they each wore a single aster and on opposite ears so they seemed a mirror of one another. Kimberly's eyes lifted from her fingers tying the lace on Mary. “Oh? What is it?” “The rumor is about Miriam; she has laid another egg.” A warm smile crossed Kimberly's face, one filled with joy and a touch of shock. “Truly? How wonderful for them both! I know they have long wanted another child. We will all pray this egg will give them one.” “It is only rumor,” Lenora cautioned, but still she was glad the telling of it brought such joy to the Baroness. “But I'm sure you can ask when they arrive.” Kimberly nodded and smiled to Bernadette who was stealing glances at the brooch in a mirror. “The Steward was one of the first who accepted our invitation. When will they and the Duke's family return to Metamor?” “Tomorrow if the roads are good. The day after if they are delayed. Metamor is flush with merchants and travelers of all sorts.” Lenora was about to say more when she heard the familiar click of claws upon stone coming into the antechamber. All of their eyes turned to the doorway as a handsome black and white rat stopped beneath the transom. Kimberly waved to her son with a chortle. “Oh, Erick, do come in. Your sisters, Lenora, and I are just enjoying a bit of repose. Are you here for Master Julian's gift?” Erick smiled to his sisters and mother, then cast a timorous glance at Lenora. “Ah, aye, well... welcome to the Narrows, milady. I hope... trust... you had an easy journey.” “It was long but pleasant. Thank you for coming to welcome us.” “Oh, well, of course, I...” he stammered a moment before turning to his mother. “Master Julian's gifts, are they?” Behind his back Bernadette and Baerle giggled under their breaths. Kimberly kept her smile even and nodded. “Lenora, do be a dear and show Erick which gift is his.” Unhurried, Lenora strolled the few paces from one chaise to the other, before she stood next to her betrothed and bent down to look into the satchel. Father had packed it carefully to keep the various gifts safe, using little lined pockets and boxes where he could. Erick's was in the large velvet-lined box at the bottom. This she lifted out, even as she tried to observe him from the corner of her eye. But Erick stood too far behind her to glimpse. “Oh, thank you, Lenora,” Erick said as he took the box. “Let me help you open it.” Lenora lifted the lid, her fingers briefly touching his; the skin was rough from a life living in a tree, caring for horses, and handling a sword. He did not flinch. Inside the box rested a silver-embroidered light blue silk hat with loops to secure it around both ears. A single shimmering blue and green peacock feather jutted out the back. Erick lifted it with a blink of amusement. “Well, this is... a traveler's cap for a gentleman?” “And fashioned for a rat, sir,” Lenora said with a winsome smile. “My father says the feather is from Marquis Tournemire's tail.” Erick laughed, turned the hat around in his hands a few more times, then tried to slip it on his head. Lenora gave the box to Kimberly and said, “Here, let me help.” Her betrothed's whiskers flattened against his face, eyes widening. “Oh, well, I suppose.” His sisters giggled again. He shot them a glare. Lenora stepped behind him, careful of his tail, and with nimble fingers secured the straps around his large ears. She studied a small nick in his left ear, and felt both amusement and uncertainty at the way his ears folded against the side of his head at her touch. Would he return from Vysehrad with much worse battle scars? Would he even return? “There.” Lenora stepped back, her legs brushing against his tail. “I think it looks very handsome on you, Sir Erick.” “Lenora's right. It suits you very well,” Kimberly agreed. Erick's ears lifted, one hand raised to touch the side of the cap. “It does feel comfortable...” “Oh just look, it's perfect for you!” Bernadette gestured toward the mirror in which a moment before she'd admired her brooch. Erick turned and bent over, staring into the mirror. He turned his head from side to side, ran his fingers and claws along the side of the hat. His dark eyes brightened as he admired the hat, his whiskers trembled, and his cheeks twisted into a rodent grin. Lenora also smiled as her betrothed tried out different faces in the mirror to see which worked best with the traveler's cap. He would twitch his nose, show off his incisors, raise and lower his ears, droop or lift his whiskers, open his jaws in a wide smile, or shut them tight in a lordly scowl. It was perfect for her betrothed, just as she assured her father it would be. “This is...” Erick said as he struck a contemplative pose, one hand stroking the underside of his jaw, “this is very handsome. I must thank Master Julian. I... I love it!” Kimberly nodded, one finger idly tapping the purple gem at her bodice. “A handsome hat for a handsome rat. Now, Erick, you didn't come here just to find your gift from Master Julian did you?” “Uh... oh... no, no, I didn't.” Erick straightened the fur on his cheeks out with a quick swipe of his fingers and claws and turned, eyes settling on Lenora. He drew himself up to his tallest, standing on the tips of his splayed toes, and puffed his chest out, affecting an aristocratic and dignified air. Lenora hid her amusement. “Milady Lenora, if you are not too fatigued from your journey, perhaps you would enjoy a tour of the Narrows.” After a brief pause he hastily added, “In my company.” Now she smiled. “I would enjoy a tour very much. Thank you, Sir Erick.” Erick's litter-mates giggled one more time. ---------- Erick escorted Lenora from the Keep with Clark trailing behind trying not to knock anything over in the cramped corridors. He murmured a few words about the castle his family lived in, but haltingly and with an apology or two about how she had already seen it all mixed in. Lenora smiled and nodded her head, eyes casting to everything he mentioned even if she had seen it before and offered words of approval or marvel as befit whatever feature her betrothed noted. When they left the castle they turned to the northeastern corner which pointed toward the Glen – Clark rumbled his relief and stretched his arms and back a moment before resuming his pace a respectful but watchful dozen steps behind them. The grounds surrounding the castle were cramped with inn, livery, armory, smithy, and an assortment of other necessities for a Baron to protect his lands. The promontory on which the Baron had chosen to build his castle was so small everything was packed together; the inn, which James and his wife Baerle kept, had to serve both travelers and guests of the Matthias house. Beyond the first line of buildings the new village could be seen and smelt, and then a steep slope through the first set of bailey walls. At the bottom of the steep slope would be the stables and homes for the many laborers come to build the outer wall. Lenora had often thought Keeptowne was cramped with homes built on top of other homes in some quarters, but at least the roads were wide enough for carriages. In this village around the Matthias Keep the roads were wide enough to walk paw in paw and no more. Erick paused when they reached the northeastern corner of the castle and ran his hand along one of the stones and the long tendrils of green ivy climbing them. Purple flowers glistened even though the afternoon sun could not reach them. Her betrothed's anxiety departed him for a moment as his eyes fixed on the stone. Curious, Lenora stepped closer. “Is this your father's ivy?” “Part of it,” Erick nodded. “Over the years he has planted new seeds in many places. This one he planted after we laid these stones. We all helped you see. These are the cornerstones. I... I placed this one myself.” His dark eyes glimmered, pink nose narrowed, whiskers stood straight out, and his ears lifted high against his hat; a rat's expression of pride. Lenora stretched her hand out, spreading her fingers against the stone. Compared to many of the stone blocks in the castle it was not very large. But Erick must have been strong even as a young rat to have lifted such a stone. She smiled and offered a little squeak of delight. “All by yourself? You must have been very strong indeed! Thank you for showing me, Sir Erick. Did you help build all the castle?” “Nay, not all of it. The masons did most of the work, but Father wanted us to be part of building our home so we all visited at least once a week to help put the freshly shaped stones in place. You should have seen Nat, Misha, and Meredith scampering over the stones and getting mortar all through their fur!” She laughed and shook her head. “Nat's never told me! You must tell me all about it, Sir Erick!” His ears stood taller every time she used his title. Erick was a young rat with doubts about his worth, but one proud of his accomplishments. He had earned the Sir and deserved to be proud of it. Lenora loved it. “Oh, there's not much more to it. My Father could tell you a grand tale of it, and I can retell the ones he's told us time and time again, but I'm not very good at making up new ones.” “In time you will,” Lenora assured him. “So what else of the Narrows do you wish to show me today, good knight?” Erick let his hand fall from the wall and he glanced about, eyes casting over the tops of the nearest buildings at the clear sky. His nose and whiskers twitched for a moment before he half-turned and caught her with but one eye. “The village is like any other really... is there anything you want to see? I know you've seen most of it many times before.” Lenora gently touched him on the arm. “Show me any place you love.” A smile flickered across his cheeks. “Oh... then... do you mind riding?” ---------- She was not dressed for sitting astride a horse and so Erick lifted her into the saddle, both legs draped over the same side, and then pushed her tail over the other. Lenora remembered some of the human ladies griping about riding side-saddle, but with her long tail to balance her she found it comfortable as long as the road was not rough. Erick assured her the bay mare she sat upon had a very agreeable disposition and would follow his russet quarter-horse without even a tug of the reins. Erick's manner was much more assured than in the parlor. Riding a horse was to her father something a well-to-do Keeper had to know how to do. For Erick it was a joy and a part of his being. There was no hesitation as he prepared the saddles and halters, and every twitch of his fur showed confidence and tenderness as he cajoled both horses from their stalls and worked his hands over their faces and hides. Lenora allowed herself to simply enjoy his strength and knew she would be safe in his care – her bear protector would follow them afoot but here in the Narrows she knew she did not need him. Erick heaved himself into his saddle with only his grip and the stirrup. He curled his toes around the leather and pointed his snout out the door. “We won't go far, but... the best part about the Narrows is the wood and mountain hills. It's not the Glen, but...” Lenora smiled. “Please show me, Sir Erick.” He clicked his tongue against his incisors and with a gentle nudge, his quarter-horse clopped out of the stables. Her mare, as promised, followed along at an easy gait; Lenora shifted her arms with each step to keep her balance, and almost giggled at the way the horse's hide rubbed against her dangling tail. Clark lumbered behind them, for once not quite as tall as she was. The ground between the stables and the outwall was hard-packed earth and stone with only a few patches of grass not yet trampled to death. Tents and little huts littered the grounds, home for the feuding stonemasons and engineers while the outwall was being built. Lenora wondered if any of them would chose to live at the Narrows when their work was done. Erick led them around to the northwest, hugging the inner bailey wall as much as he could. Lenora could see the last remnants of the shallow depression the Narrows had been built in beyond the completed outwall, and the line of thick forest beyond. It all ended in the jagged mountains with their bare-peaks and gowns of pine and fir. The mountains she could see from Keeptowne all showed signs of harvesting, with swaths of forest cut down for lumber or mined for stone. The peaks framing the Narrows were wild and untouched, or so at least it seemed. She knew mot of the stones making up the outwall had come from those peaks, but the work was so careful it left no signs. The inner bailey wall ran right into the mountain and a tower climbed the steep rock another thirty feet. A guardhouse was positioned along the wall and her nose detected the scent of more horses; her ears lifted and a moment later she heard one whinny from somewhere within the cluster of buildings abutting the rock. Erick led them past the building to a narrow track against the granite wall. She glanced up and saw roots and branches jutting out above the lip but nothing more. Her mare followed along the rock trail, hooves clopping so loud half the Narrows was sure to hear. Erick dismounted as the track wound to the outwall tower. The door to the tower was open, but Erick ignored it. Curious, Lenora watched him as he placed his hand on a part of the masonry between the tower and the mountain face; unlike the outwall the rock was smooth as if the mountain itself had been chiseled away around it. She squeaked in alarm when, with a dull groan, the stone parted to reveal a dark path illumined but faintly by a soft silvery light. Erick half-turned, smiling like a boy who's caught a fish, “My father built this; the witchlight is my mother's. It's one of our escape holes if the Narrows are ever overrun. Come, milady, it's safe. The horses have all been through before.” He climbed back into the saddle and with another wave, guided her into the tunnel. The walls were rock and twisted to the left only a few paces in, cutting off all light from outside. She glanced behind and saw Clark enter, running a hand across the stone as he passed, careful not to prick it with his large claws. The clop of horse hooves echoed in their ears, and after a moment she heard the stone groan again; the door had closed behind them. “This is remarkable,” she murmured. Her father had told her of secret tunnels deep beneath Metamor and after much begging showed her the first one he had found. They had walked through the passage whose walls, floor, and ceiling were the color and texture of black-pearl for an hour before turning back. She felt no fear in the tunnel – an advantage to being a rat – but after so long a time walking to see nothing new had been unpleasant. She suspected her father had taken her there and on such a long journey to ensure she never sought them out again without actual need. This was the first true tunnel she had entered since. Unlike the black tunnel under Metamor where she felt nothing, this one gently comforted. The walls were the same gray granite like most rocks in the valley, but in the walls were little crystals which glimmered in the witchlight's moonglow. The air, which had at times felt stifling in Metamor's tunnel, felt fresh and smelled of pine needles and wild flowers. There was even a subtle warmth to the air. “How much magic is there in here? I'm warm and I smell flowers.” Erick chittered and she could see him grin; the blue feather in his hat shimmered in the light. “My father asked the mountain and here we are. The witchlight is the only magic this place has. The doors only open for one of my father's blood, so we have no fear of invaders using it.” She wondered if it would work for her once they were wed. But for once Erick was not awkward and she rather enjoyed it. No need to remind him now. The cavern walls parted as Erick's horse neared them and opened onto a forest glade with sheltering trees along a grassy decline. Lenora smiled as she turned her head about, drinking in the scent of pine and maple. Erick brought his steed a dozen paces from the cleft in the rock and waited beneath a bough laden with pinecones; his eyes were fixed on the south. Lenora's mare followed and brought her to his side even as her eyes adjusted to the faint verdant light. Clark grunted in surprise when the rock pressed tight a moment after he stepped out. “In the Winter when the leaves have fallen you can see the Narrows from here. If the wind blows just right you'll catch a glimpse.” Erick pointed at the trees lining the crest of a hill before them. Lenora nodded but could see nothing but broad maple leaves. He looked past her and at the bear who was checking his leggings. “Are you all right, good sir? The door didn't close on you did it?” “No, Sir Erick,” Clark replied with a rumbling grunt. “I appear to be whole.” Lenora favored her father's loyal guard with a warm smile. “Isn't it lovely here, Clark? There's so many trees!” “The bear in me is quite happy here in the forest, milady. The man in me wouldn't mind a good tavern and a mug of ale. The bear in me would like 'em too!” Lenora chittered her amusement, while Erick let out a boisterous laugh. “Ah, Clark, you are a good man! I'm sure we can find a mug your size.” He grinned wide enough to show his teeth and Lenora studied him even as she made it seem she was looking at the trees. He'd been so awkward in town and in the parlor. Here on his horse and in the woods he seemed perfectly at ease. The woods were beautiful... but with no roads or castles in sight, Lenora felt a strange unease. From her father's maps she knew the forest village of Glen Avery was somewhere to the north, the roads north to Hareford were off to the east, and to the west were impassable mountains. There was little fear of losing her way. But if she were to be separated, how long would it be before she found any of those places? What might find her instead? Erick eased his horse onto a narrow track leading into a patchwork of shadow, warmth, and brush beneath the trees. “There's a clearing north of here where my sisters enjoy collecting wildflowers and berries. It's not far.” Lenora nodded and gripped the saddle with one hand while her eyes scanned the large maple leaves overhead. The forest was quiet but for the grunting of horses and twittering of distant birds. If she strained she could hear the gentle tumbling of a stream. It was never so silent in Metamor even in the dead hours before dawn when most slumbered. Her eyes returned to the rat before her. He turned his horse through the brush as if he no longer even needed ponder what the right path was; Lenora could see nothing to suggest one way was any better than another. Yet Erick saw them as clearly as she might know the twisting streets of Keeptowne. His buildings were trees, his streets were deer paths, and his neighbors the hidden beasts of the wood. The forest was his home and in its light she could see warrior, knight, and rat in his best light; how handsome he truly was! But would he think less of her because she was already lost and helpless to find her way back without him? Would he chafe when she preferred life within stone walls and yearned for every visit to her father in Metamor? Lenora forced her drooping whiskers back out and smiled. Perhaps, with the passing of years, she would learn to love the forest even a little like her betrothed. Her father was shrewd and rarely misjudged a deal when it came to money or improving the lot of Metamor. When it came to Erick she would have to trust her father's judgment; he did want what was best for her; perhaps this rat truly should be her betrothed. But... Like Erick she said nothing as they rode on through the woods further and further from everything she knew and loved. ---------- May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, Charles Matthias </body> </html>