Their trips had begun to become less and less frequent, with the days starting later and the nights coming earlier. Peter felt as if their progress was dwindling and the rest of the group knew it, as well.
“What is happening?” Peter asked as they sat around a fire one night.
“Well, what do you mean?” Richard tried to ask around a mouthful of food.
“We used to be really good about traveling these mountains, and now we just can’t seem to make any progress.”
Adalene offered a cryptic answer. “It’s…her.”
“What?” the group asked.
“She has begun to interfere,” Adalene answered, “Remember, ve are in her land now, and she vill do anything to prevent ze prophecy.”
“But…how?” Helen asked, “How can she make sure we wake up later and get tired earlier?”
“She has found a way into our heads,” Richard was the one to say, staring into the fire. “Just like what she did to me back on the Bowen. She got in my head and made me…do things. I can’t let something like that happen again.”
As Peter looked at Richard sitting there, his new eyepatch reflecting the glow of the flames, Peter couldn’t help but admire how confident he had gotten since he began wearing it.
Instead of hiding his face under the bandages, the eyepatch allowed for more of his face to be visible, and it seemed to keep his personality from hiding, as well.
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Alice, who was beside Peter said, “it’s almost as if whatever’s trying to keep us here is waiting for something to happen. Something big.” Her eyes shifted to Adalene, who was uncomfortably sitting on the other side of the fire, “I don’t like it.”
“Look,” Luke said, breaking the silence, “Whatever it is, we’ll take it in strides. We’ve handled a lot, but we can’t keep worrying about the future just now. I’m sure as long as we’re together, we can get through this,” his hand found Skylar’s, and they looked at each other hopefully, “We have to.”
“Let’s get some sleep.”
And so, not long after the conversation finished, Peter found himself drifting off to sleep.
…
In the morning, they finally stumbled across a sign of human civilization.
“It’s…a camp,” Skylar said, holding a hand above her eyes to shield them from the sun, “With people.”
“The only question is,” Peter looked over at her, “Are they friendly?”
“I can’t tell,” Luke replied, “Can’t see any soldiers or weapons, but then again, this is Dueglestein. We have no idea if these people are nice or not. May as well not give out our actual names.”
And so, the children made up their own fake names.
“What d’ya need?” A grumpy butcher asked from his spot, his eyebrows seeming to cover his eyes.
Luke, who had prepared himself for this, cleared his throat and puffed out his chest, holding himself in a distinguished manner as he paced in front of the butcher’s stand.
“I, George Flufflebutt, and my good friend, Baron von Tripleton,” he indicated Peter, who was standing in an equally ridiculous posture, “Would like to purchase some of your finest jerkies.”
The butcher seemed to blink, but nobody could tell from his eyebrows. “Uh-huh.”
“My dear Lily,” Luke’s arm now reached for Skylar, who bit her tongue from saying anything, “Ms. Bowton, we shall snack on the finest jerkies before our wedding in the evening.”
Taking a deep breath, Skylar finally said her line. “Oh, darling, I simply cannot wait to snack on this jerky as I become your Mrs. Flufflebutt.”
It was all Peter could to suppress a laugh forming in his throat. The butcher, however, was not so pleased.
“Look, just how much d’ya wanna buy?”
Now it was Richard’s turn to step forward. “Ten bags, please.”
“Ah, Mr. Moneyweather,” Luke nodded to Richard, “I see you have come to join us.”
“William, darling,” Helen’s arm linked with Richard’s, “Why must it always be jerky with you? Shan’t we have some fruits or vegetables sometime?”
“My love,” Richard kissed her hand, “Would you care to join me in buying some fruits?”
“Oh, darling, I thought you’d never ask.”
Alice went to follow them. “Wait for me, Rose, you know I just love to buy plants!”
“Isidore!” Helen exclaimed back, “Darling, come, join us as we peruse the greenery.”
Peter did not know where Helen had learned that vocabulary, but he guessed it was from Alice.
The butcher was becoming more impatient by the minute.
“Can you please just buy the jerky?”
“Of course, young sir,” Luke dramatically produced a sack of coins, “How much will it be?”
“Twenty-five shepels,” the butcher answered.
The gasp Luke let out could be heard for miles.
“Twenty-five?!” he exclaimed, “Why, I could almost buy a horse with that!”
“I’m sorry, Mr…” the butcher tried to remember Luke’s fake last name.
“Flufflebutt.”
“Right, uh…Flufflebutt,” if you could see his eyes, Peter was sure they’d be rolling. “But taxes are rising, and my prices have to rise with them. I gotta make money here, ya’know. I gotta keep my family fed.”
The butcher’s comment struck a nerve in Peter. He remembered back to when the war started, after he’d lost everything and was an orphan, the prices had begun to rise. Peter could barely survive on his own, so he couldn’t imagine what this man was going through, just trying to make ends meet for his family.
As Luke began to try to make his dramatic schpiel, Peter stepped in.
“Well, I can’t-” Luke started to say, but Peter slammed down thirty shepels on the table.
“Sir,” Peter said as he tried to look into the eyes of the butcher, “Keep the change.”
The man’s eyebrows raised so high his dark brown eyes became visible.
“I-I’m sorry,” Peter stammered, “Just…feed your family.”
As the butcher looked down at Peter, an expression crossed his face that he couldn’t quite place. But it seemed to be one of understanding, one of gratitude.
Then, Peter and the others left the butcher stand to follow Richard, Helen, and Alice to another with fruits and greens for them to buy. They didn’t know how long the produce would last in the cold temperatures, but with Alice not being able to have the meat, she needed some kind of food.
They approached a stand selling everything from produce to ropes and other supplies, but when Peter saw the sign, he thought he might pass out.
Peter stopped in his tracks.
His hand around Alice’s slipped as she kept walking on, before turning back to ask, “What’s wrong?”
Peter nodded to the stand, and she read the sign. Although Peter’s reading skills were small, he could still make out the words, “Two-Eyed Toby”.
“Oh, no,” Alice groaned, but Peter pressed on, breaking out of the momentary standstill he had been at.
“Ah,” the man he presumed to be Toby said, “What would you like to buy?”
“Fruits and vegetables,” Peter muttered, avoiding the man’s eyes. Who knew if this guy knew Oliver or not, or if he might give them over?
Alice cleared her throat and asked the question bouncing around in Peter’s mind. “Two-Eyed Toby? Do you happen to know One-Eyed Oliver by chance?”
The man’s eyes lit up. “Know him? Why, he’s my brother!”
“Ah,” Alice sounded a bit disappointed, “That’s…lovely.”
Peter tried not to remember what happened to Olive when he gave them over to the Dueglesteiners.
He asked for the payment, and Boromir smiled.
Then he raised his sword and Peter tried his best to look away from the carnage.
But still, he could never get the sound of a sword cutting through flesh and bone out of his ears.
Without realizing that his hands had formed into fists, Alice’s hand gripped his, her cold fingertips cooling his fear. She pulled him away from the stand, his mind a haze as Richard purchased the food they would need for the trip.
He thought she might ask what was wrong once again, but instead, she said, “I know.”
“I’m sorry,” Peter replied, “I just…”
“Shh…” Alice coaxed, pulling him into a hug, “I know, I know, but we don’t have to worry about that right now. That time is over.”
He sighed. “You’re right,” he closed his eyes in relief, “It’s over.”
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