She stepped closer and placed her palms on his cheeks, holding his head immobile while peering into his eyes. “Yes, you are right, I am here to help and no, it was not my idea. Now, stop thinking all of your thoughts so loud. It’s like you’re shouting. You’re blasting your thoughts everywhere, blocking out those of others, and drawing attention to yourself like never before. I can’t help and block any of them for you if you don’t cooperate.”
Gareth looked into her eyes, wondering what she was talking about. Had he been captured by a witch or demented woman?
She lowered her hands, stepped back a full step and waited. “Don’t you dare call me a witch.”
Gareth retreated a step, too.
“Can’t you stop doing it? Now any listeners will know I’m with you, and that puts my life in danger. Stop or you might as well just march over the next hill and give yourself up.”
Gareth waited, breath coming in gasps, trying to catch a breath while trying to understand what the woman was talking about. Witch. The word did not pass my lips, but she heard it.
“Did you hear me?”
He shrugged. “I hear your words, but don’t understand anything you said. Your words don’t make sense. Can I put my dragon in his bag, and do you mind if we leave here before those others find us?”
“Yes, put him away. Isn’t that what I told you a while ago?”
No, it was not. She’d ordered him to call it off from attacking her, not put the dragon away, but he didn’t argue. Placing the dragon inside, he held the bag open and noticed that now it squeezed to fit. Delaying, he fumbled with the bag while thinking. If he silently ordered the dragon to attack her, especially if he told the thing she was food, he might overpower her and take her bow. Then what?
“Exactly,” she said, hands on hips in a defiant stance. “Then what? Your little dragon eats me while you do what? Turn yourself into the king’s army and whatever they have planned for you?”
Gareth looked at her in shock and fear. Almost my exact words.
She moved a step closer and said much softer, “Hey, you really don’t know how to shut off your mind, do you?”
“Shut it off?” He felt a flash of fear. It seemed as if it came from her.
“Stop repeating everything.” She looked around, checked the sky to ensure no flying dragons were in sight, and then pointed. “We’ll go that way. Get your goat and hurry up before any more dragons fly overhead. There must be five or six nearby.”
“What about shutting down my mind?”
“We’ll quiet it down shortly. I’ve sent for an herbal mixture that will help.” She spun and walked quickly away, deeper into the forest, in the direction of the road.
Gareth grabbed the halter for the goat and hurried after her, pulling and tugging as he wondered why he’d rush to follow someone who had shot two arrows at him only minutes earlier. If she intended to do him harm she could have already, he reasoned, but there was more to it. She seemed to know things about him that he didn’t, and she acted like she might share more of that information. He needed to know certain things. How could he think something in his mind and she know what it was? What was she so concerned about when she told him to “shut it off”? He could no longer see her and tugged harder for the goat to move faster. The goat balked at the speed.
“Wait up,” he called softly, as he managed to catch sight of her, again.
At a bend in the path, she turned and saw the problem with the goat. She slowed until she could speak without shouting. “Just a little further. We must hurry before they become impatient and come to you, and maybe do something drastic. I’ll do my best to get you to safety.”
The surrounding trees seemed too thin with her words. Unseen eyes peered at him from everywhere. His imagination ran wild. Still, the truth was that watchers could be nearby, and he’d never see them. The forest was mostly oak and other hardwoods, the underbrush not too thick to move through, yet more than enough to conceal an army of watchers. He looked up and realized that every time he could see the open sky, something up there could see him. The ground was undulating, one small hill after another. Often small creeks or streams separated the downhill portion of one from the uphill of the next.
He had not seen a cabin, barn, fence, or other sign of humans for a full day. Then he thought of Tom with mixed feelings. The night whispers could be his imagination, but they warned him of danger and had mentioned Tom, and so far had been accurate. Tom had done him no harm, in fact, without Tom he would certainly be the captive of those chasing him. “I have a friend on the road over there,” he pointed off to his right. “Is he in danger?”
“I traveled that road to get to you. The only person is an old farmer riding in a corn wagon to market.”
“That’s him. Tom. He’s the only reason I’ve managed to get this far.”
She scowled, paused and came to a decision. She turned and took him by his shoulders while looking directly into his eyes, again. “Okay, now you listen to me carefully. Continue walking down this trail until you reach some big rocks the size of your friend’s wagon. At the base of a steep hill on your right, there’s a rock-slide. Go into the rocks at that point, hide and wait. No loud noises, no mental-shouting, and no fires. No angry or excited thinking! Hear me? All you do is sit quietly and wait for me to return. Sleep if you can. I’ll try to send help.”
“You’re going after Tom?”
“Yes, I’ll try. You take a nap. Just think about calm things, Gareth. Picture pretty lakes or flowers. You must stay calm, or you’ll lead your enemies right to you.”
“Tom might not believe you’re here to help him. Tell him a black dragon dropped me into the Dunsmuir Sea. He’ll know what that means and proves I talked to you.”
“I just wish I’d have known who it was on that wagon when I saw him this morning. There’s a full militia checkpoint not far ahead on the road, right in the direction that old mule’s taking him. The army’s holding everyone traveling on the road at there. Gathering them up into a fenced pasture, like a herder with his sheep. No telling how long they’ll keep Tom once they have him. Or what they’ll do if they figure out you were with him.”
“I’ll go by those rocks and wait like you said. Please hurry and bring him back.”
She spun and sprinted away.
The goat paused beside the path as it pulled mouthfuls of fresh green grass, and looked at Gareth with trusting eyes. He wrapped an arm around the neck and pulled it closer and rubbing the space between the eyes. The woman said to think calming thoughts and the goat was better than any lake or flower.
The goat tore another mouth full of grass from the edge of the field. It chewed, eyes centered on Gareth. He tugged the rope, “Yes, we’re going to leave here, so grab another mouthful and don’t look at me like that.”
He adjusted the strap of the bag over his shoulder and knew by the feel that the dragon must have increased its weight by half since hatching. Grasshoppers, butterflies, fish, corn, mice, dried meat, and of course, goat-leg must be exceptional dragon food.
No angry thinking? Lost in thoughts about not thinking, and how to accomplish such a feat, he noticed the trees had thinned even more as he neared a larger hill, and off to the right stood a field of huge rocks like those the woman had described. At the rock-slide, he turned off the path at the base of a hill and wound his way in and around several boulders. He carefully wiped his footprints, and those of the goat, from the dirt path. The action wouldn’t fool an experienced woodsman for a second, but not doing so would be foolish. He continued skirting around large boulders until he was out of sight for anyone walking on the path.