The next stop brought them closer to Velmund. There was a buzz in the air as though the soldiers were anticipating the comforts of home and the hours of rest they were so desperate to recover. Only Pike was hoping they'd be waylaid by bandits, or find themselves forced to turn back.

He'd been waiting the whole day to lay eyes on the witch again. When the carriage was unlocked, he held his breath and steadied his racing heart. The prisoner was slumped against the interior; he appeared to be sleeping, his gentle breath forming wisps of fog in the chilling dusk.

Pike set the items he'd brought on the far side of the bench and sat down beside him, staring into the faintly lit face at rest. He looked peaceful, vulnerable, and nothing like the maddening witch that had driven the Cimbran army all the way to the western shores. He smoothed the hair that clung to the witch's face, and ran his fingers across his cold and shackled hands.

He didn't care if he lingered too long, if the guard banged on the door and demanded that he leave; all he wanted was to remain in his presence, to watch over him as he slept. Unfastening his cuirass and setting it quietly down on the carriage floor, Pike slid his arm beneath the witch's blanket, edging his body closer to share the warmth it contained.

He sat contentedly in the darkened space, listening to the witch's breaths, and feeling that his soft and sturdy shoulder had finally found its purpose. After an undeterminable length of time, the heat of Pike's body caused the witch's face to flush, and he shifted awkwardly on the bench.

"Are you awake?" asked Pike.

The witch's bleary eyes adjusted in the dark. His warden's arm was draped across his waist, and his face was dangerously close to his own.

"Were you holding me?" asked the witch, "You feel too hot; do you have a fever?"

The chain at his wrist clanked, as he thoughtlessly tried to pull his hand free and check the warden's temperature.

Pike stroked his fingers across the witch's hand.

"Still yourself," he said, "If you move too much it will only cause you pain."

He took hold of the cup and flagon, pouring the water and setting the cup to the side. He swiftly opened the witch's breeches and pressed the mouth of the flagon against the raw and sensitive skin.

The need to relieve himself was great, and yet the witch's shame was growing.

"Don't hold it," said Pike, "At least not on my account."

The fundamental checklist of the witch's needs taken care of, Pike set to alleviating some of his discomfort. His warm hands kneaded the witch's body, rubbing the cramped and aching muscles back to life.

"Where did you learn so much?" asked the witch.

"We have livestock at home," Pike confessed, "Sometimes their tone needs correcting. It's worse in the winter, stuck inside away from the ice and cold. I've heard it never snows in Velmund..."

"At least I shouldn't freeze in my cell then," said the witch, "I should be thankful for even the smallest of mercies."

"Won't they kill you?" asked Pike, "I hear people who hate are destined to kill."

The witch's neck tensed, Pike could feel his body stiffen.

"I... I don't think they intend to... to do that," said the witch, "Surely I'm of greater use to them should they keep me alive?"

"You mean they know? About your water magic? The Protector abolished the practice of any sorcery on the Cimbran Isle; they'd have no cause to make use of your powers. No reason to let you live... not if half of what they say is true."

The witch knew better. The Protector's laws were as changeable as the concubines that warmed his bed. Whatever whim held his fancy superseded the rules of the Protectorate. Wasn't that his personal motive? In capturing the witch before he could defect to the west? He did not fear the witch's power; only that another kingdom would benefit from its novelty.

Even if it wasn't understood, and even if the rumors were greatly exaggerated, the Protector wanted to see it for himself. In all his two hundred years, there had never been a sorceror worthy enough to be called as such. He was growing bored with nothing in the way of war to occupy him. The country was united, and try as he might, the west refused to take up the arms that lay ever readied against them. In the witch he found a figure of hatred, one that he might exploit to the extreme under the cover of his villainy.

"Maybe death is better," said the witch, "Almost like freedom..."

"It's not," Pike told him flatly, "It's never better. Not when there's a chance. Not when the sun continues to rise and the fates refuse to die."

There was never a day that hope had left him. Not once had he conceded his father's soul to the heavens; however bleak the passing of years had become.

"Don't give up. Never give up. Look death in the eye and tell it to fuck itself. If you're too polite, I'll tell it myself."

The witch's laugh was fraught with desperation.

"Show me again" said Pike, "Show me how to tear the water. If you're too afraid to kill them all with your magic, teach me. I'll kill them for you. No blood on your hands... no stain on your soul."

"Why..?" asked the witch, his voice wavering as the warden's words assaulted his sense of reason, "Why would you say such a thing? Do you hear yourself? That you would even think of harming another..."

"What of it?" Pike replied, "They think nothing of harming you."

The witch stared into the glass-black eyes of the kind young man from Hofingrad. He couldn't understand the change in him. 

"I am a stranger," said the witch, "Why would you risk your immortal soul for a stranger? You shouldn't even joke like that."

Pike tilted his head and observed the consternation on the witch's face.

"What monster cares for the souls of others?" he asked, "You are no monster. You... You are beautiful."

The witch's tears were threatening to fall. Pike held his shivering face between his hands, drawing his thumb across the witch's quivering lip. He kissed him with intent. Intent to calm the ebbing torrent of despair, to savor every uncertain second he could steal within his company. His rough and uneducated lips were pressing so fiercely. I feel your pain, they told the witch, and I mean to consume it.

If only to replenish his breath, Pike relinquished his claim on the witch's mouth.

"You should hurry and put your armor back on," said the witch, "They'll start to wonder why it's taking you so long."

Pike didn't want to leave, but the prisoner was right. If they suspected him of something, there was every chance he'd lose his duties by the morning. 

"I'd stay the night here if I could," he explained truthfully, fastening his cuirass across his chest.

"Why..?" asked the witch.

Pike failed to understand the confusion. If he stayed, the witch could show him how to shift the water, and he could tend to the needs of the man who'd captured his heart. Wasn't it obvious?

"You'd rather be alone here?" he asked in return.

"Well... no..."

"I'll return at daybreak," said Pike, securing the blanket tightly around the prisoner, and combing back the hair that had fallen across his face, "There's maybe another three days until we reach the city limits. There isn't much time to think of a plan."

"What?! What plan?"

Pike knocked on the carriage door and called for the guard, leaving the witch to ponder his words deep into the night.

Min was already asleep by the time Pike found his friends amongst the soliders. Rel was laughing heartily with his new acquaintance from Velmund, with little care to whosoever's sleep he was disturbing.

"There you are!" he cried at the sight of Pike, "This is the one I was telling you about. A little odd, but the bravest man in Hofingrad, besides myself of course."

"High praise indeed!" mocked the soldier, "I'd no idea that Hofingrad was a breeding ground for such valiant specimens."

Rel laughed awkwardly. "He feeds the witch, you understand. Not to mention the wild horses he's tamed back at home!"

"I'd bet both needed a fair amount of 'taming'," said the soldier, "I know how much you prize your animals in the countryside... when there's little else that counts for entertainment, it's no wonder you invest your energy into cozying up with the beasts."

Rel failed to notice the muffled snickering behind them.

"I'm not sure I follow..." puzzled Rel, "We're not so hard pressed for amusement that we spend our time with only the animals for company."

"He's saying we fuck them," Pike explained, "Aren't you?"

The soldier laughed. "Your friend seems quick to jump to conclusions. I've certainly never said you all fuck horses out in Hofingrad."

"Yeah!" another soldier chimed in, "Wasn't it the fish you all fuck?"

Rel's Velmund acquaintance hid his laugh behind a tightly clenched fist, but not before Rel caught sight of it. His face turned white, and the echoes of humiliating mirth turned his stomach. 

"Come on," said Pike, taking hold of Rel's hand and leading him away from the troops to lie beside Min, "If you don't rest now, tomorrow will be harder."

Rel's troubled eyes shone in the darkness.

"I thought he was my friend," he whispered, frightened that the others might hear them, "He'd been so kind and helpful; I don't know why he'd say such a thing."

"You've always been this way," said Pike, "Giving credit to those that don't deserve it, and judging those that-" 

"That what?" asked Rel, unsure as to why his friend had stopped speaking.

That have done nothing wrong.

"You should know I think well of everyone unless they give me cause to change my mind," continued Rel.

"Keep doing that," said Pike, allowing for the future transgressions he was sure to commit, "Think the best of everyone. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise... not unless you see it with your own eyes."

"Like tonight..?"

"If you were looking for a hateful kind of monster," said Pike, "It'd be the ones sleeping seven feet away from us. Stick with Min from now on, at least he'll insult you to your face."

"Don't tell Min," Rel pleaded, "About tonight. I talked too big... I'd forgotten how small our pond was."

The size of their pond wouldn't matter once Pike had learned how to control it. He'd take the witch to the other side of the water, away from everyone that tried to hurt him; into a vast and shimmering sunlit sea where the army could not follow. He watched until Rel fell asleep, then turned his focus to the cup of water in his hand.

He mimicked the incantation of the witch, attempting to search through every moving drop with the tip of his finger. Why couldn't he feel it? What was he missing that the water never seemed to change? As he settled down to his restless sleep, he determined to press the witch for answers in the morning. They were running out of time.

"Oh," said Min, noticing that Pike had finally stirred from his sleep, "How do you feel? I didn't want to wake you, your body was burning up. We thought it better you rest this morning, or you won't be able to march."

Pike's head felt heavy as he lifted it from the ground.

"I'm fine," he said with a cough, "I need to tend to my duties."

Willing his body to stand, Min held out a hand to support him. "Don't worry about your duties!" he declared, "Come and eat something and build your strength."

"No!" cried Pike, loosing Min's grip, "I have to feed the witch!"

"They'll pay you regardless," reasoned Min, "Besides, it's taken care of. Rel has gone in your place. You should thank him when he comes back... well, we both should I suppose; we drew lots to see who'd go, and even though I lost he let me off."

"Rel has gone..?!" asked Pike.

"Are you worried she'll bewitch him?" Min parried, "If you can withstand her charms after so many meetings, I'm sure that Rel can hold strong for the time it takes to feed her."

Those precious, fleeting moments with the witch were even fewer; whatever energy bestowed by the lingering hours of sleep, vanished at the thought of not seeing his face. Pike's body sank to the floor, berating his useless constitution, and the joys his poor health had denied him.

Tonight, Pike promised himself, I'll make my plan by tonight.