The sun had climbed to a respectable distance before
Jeane began to stir. Every muscle, every bone, it
seemed even every hair on her body was sore. 
   She sat up and looked around, both actions with a
kind of measured slowness. There was no sign of her
"prince", her savior, if that is what he truly was.
She would have even believed the whole thing a dream
if it were not for the remains of the fire, the
blanket and the homespun bag that had cushioned her
head while she slept. She had not supplied any of
these things. 
  Looking into the bag, she was delighted to see a
waterskin, a rind of cheese, a loaf of bread, and some
 nuts and berries. Feeling more clear-headed and very
famished, she set-to with great relish. Somehow, the
water was fresh and cold as if it had just been dipped
out of a nearby stream. The bread and cheese were
surprisingly bland in spite of their apparent
freshness, but servicible. Actually, she was so hungry
that she would have eaten hay and twigs, so this
repast seemed a kingly meal!
   After eating her fill (which put a substantial dent
in her larder) and washing her face, she felt like a
new woman. Hadn't HE said something to that affect the
night before? That's right: the start of a new day...
A new life.. She went over the whole experience again
in her head trying to remember what he had looked
like. The only thing she could remember about him
besides his words were his eyes. Eyes that had peirced
her soul and seemed to be made of starlight, cold and
distant. She could not remember if he were tall or
short, thin or fat. Only the eyes and the distant
voice...
   She shuddered at a sudden drop in temperature.
Looking up, she saw that the sun had passed behind a
heavy, dark cloud bank. It would be a wet miserable
day if that cloud broke.
   Sighing, she gathered her small group of belongings
and cleaned up around the camp, making sure to leave
the small clearing in better shape than it had been
before she had "made use" of it. She even went so far
as to scatter the rocks that had surrounded her now
dead campfire, placing them randomly in all directions
from the camp. This would ensure that no Sidhe felt
that she was disrespectful of their home. 
   She was quite certain that the "man" that had aided
her was one of the Goodly Folke. She shuddered as she
remembered countless folk tales and how it was said in
almost all of them that the Sidhe do not help mortals
without some compensation in return. But, being a
practical lass, and since she did not know what this
particular goblin wanted of her, she set the worry
aside for a later time. 
   She had encountered her first Sidhe and was none
the worse for wear for it, so far, so she set out to
find this "new life" that he had spoken of. She
fervently hoped that this "new day" at least held a
hot meal and a warm dry bed at the end of it! 
   Squaring her shoulders, setting her jaw, and
hefting her makeshift bundle, she set off down stream
with slow measured strides to work out the kinks and
the soreness. She had seen a town off that way and was
determined to make it there by nightfall.  
   After all, hopes were one thing, but good solid
determination succeeded where most hopes failed. And
she was determined to have that hot meal and warm
bed...



Jeane du Merlot, Part Three: Rest for the Weary


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