Never Kiss A Stranger by Heather Grothaus Page B

road,” he tossed over his shoulder as he headed to the bank on the left. His voice was gravelly and cracked from disuse.
    “Why? Is someone following us?” He heard the slightrise of intrigue and excitement in her words, matched by the increased crunch of the leaves under her foot as she sped up to keep pace with him up the incline.
    “That’s the whole point of keeping to the wood, isn’t it?” He reached the top of the rise and stopped, still in the cover of trees, and held a forefinger behind him, signaling for Alys to be quiet. He continued in a low voice as he scanned the long dirt avenue as far as his eyes could see in the afternoon light. “I believe the river is just over the far side.”
    “Of course it is,” she replied brightly, and, Piers thought, a bit loudly. He frowned and brought his finger to his lips. She complied by speaking next in an exaggerated whisper. “We’re nearly upon the village of Pilings. Were we to continue on, we’d run straight into the butcher. He’s at the river’s edge.”
    “Pilings?” he asked. At her game nod, he winced. “Terrible name for a village, isn’t it?”
    “Yes. But they are known for their pork.”
    “I see.” Piers squatted down next to the packed surface of the road, both to stretch his tight muscles and to listen a moment longer. He heard nothing but the hollow wind, the rush of nearby water, the whisper and creak of the winter trees. He stood. “I hope for their sake that they’ve brought their pigs in to shelter for the night, for if I see one rooting about the leaves, I shall have his side meat for my supper. Come on.”
    They crossed the road at a run. Once they were safely to the other side and into the wood proper once more, Alys spoke.
    “We could wait for nightfall then go into the village and steal one.”
    He looked sideways at her, and couldn’t help his snortof laughter. “Steal a pig? Have you any idea how difficult they are to catch?”
    “The piglets, yes. But a full grown one is a bit harder to miss.”
    Then he truly laughed. “I’d like to see you try to steal a six hundred pound pig. They’d find your little flattened body under one the next morn and then throw you in a beggar’s grave for a thief.”
    “Is that so?” she said haughtily.
    “It is.” He stopped at the broken edge of earth that capped a steep ravine down to the churning water. No getting down this way lest he wished to be drowned. Piers turned to his right and began to walk south once more, Alys following him, obviously quite offended.
    “You underestimate me, husband. You think I can’t do anything save for lie about and be waited on.”
    “Stop calling me husband. And I do believe you can do more than lie about and be waited on.”
    “You do?” He heard the shock in her voice.
    “Yes. Well, not useful things, such as outfitting yourself properly for a journey, or listening to reason, but you’re actually quite good at walking.”
    A clod of wet dirt whisked past his left ear to sail harmlessly into the ravine below.
    “You certainly have terrible aim, so no future at all in archery.” Piers felt his spirits lifting merely through the act of speaking aloud. It was rather enjoyable to spar with Alys Foxe. He spied a path down the ravine wall. “Here we are.” And he dropped down over the side with what he himself even thought of as a rather spry hop, leaving Alys to get down through her own devices.
    “Ooph!
Oh, hold on, Layla! Why are we going to the river again?”
    “I need water,” was all Piers was willing to disclose ashis feet touched the wet and pebbled strip of ground at the river’s edge. His spirits lifted even further when he spotted the rocky overhang ahead of them, perhaps a third of the way back up the ravine. It would be a perfect shelter for the night—no one looking down from the road would be able to see them. The clouds blanketing the whole of the dark gray sky looked heavy—‘twas likely to rain, or perhaps even