Page 25 of Of Shadows and Blood

“Ten? Only ten?” he says, examining the pottery again and shaking his head. “No, twenty,” he states, handing me the bills. His purse nearly spills over as he does so. My hand shakes as I reach for it, but he pulls back and turns his head to the side, shaking it again. He reaches back in his pouch, pulling out double what he initially offered.

Forty grata.

“Your… mother does fine work. Thank her for me,” he says, a friendly grin forming on his face. The man turns his heel to leave but pauses yet again.

“Oh, thank you, sir,” I manage to say, afraid to have offended him. His generosity is unmatched to anything I have experienced.

The stranger turns his head back to face me once more. “Tell me your name, please,” he asks, crouching down to eye level with me once more. “I’d like to hear it.” I instinctively reach for my scarf, thankful for it covering the bruise beneath.

“I’m called Liv, sir.”

“Liv?” he questions curiously, our eyes looking deep into one another. His hand reaches forward, brushing the scarf from my cheek. My breathing rattles, slow and shallow. The stranger’s lips purse and his brow furrows. Instinctually, I grab the scarf and pull it back across, smiling apologetically.

“And your name?” I let out, hoping to change the subject. His eyes move back up to meet mine, his solemn face finding a smile again.

“That, you already know, dear Liv,” he says coyly, standing back up. “Thank you again, for the pottery.” The man takes one last look at me before moving on. I’ve never met him, never seen him in my life, and as fast as he had appeared, he disappears. I search for him around the square from my spot, trying to remain subtle, but he vanished into thin air.

A traveler, then.

What a life.

The midday sun crests high above the market. It’s mostly died down since my last sale with the mystery man. Hal sold most of his posts and my pottery still lies in front of me, only missing two items. I’ll have to figure out a way to get rid of the rest of these.

A flash of light reflecting across the square catches my eyes, waking me back up. Sawyer is walking towards me, hands clasped together in front of him. It’s been a couple of hours since he abandoned Hal to the task of selling their wares.

“What’s that you’ve got,” I pry, leaning forward to peek into his hands.

He pulls them up and winks. “You’ll have to come find out.” He backs up, gesturing with his head to follow.

I glance at Hal and grin, unsure of what is going on, but he chuckles and shoos me away. He can take care of the customers, if any.

Sawyer pockets the thing in his hands and grabs me, dragging me away from the market towards the grove of trees on the south side. My feet are barely able to keep up with his excited steps.

“Where are you taking me?” I yell as we skip over fallen logs and rabbit holes.

“You could just follow along with my ideas for once. The Gods know you are a stubborn woman.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be any fun now, would it?” I tease back, keeping up with his hurried pace.

The grove is the only place you can really find vegetation around here. It’s more of an oasis, if I’m being truthful. Shrubs graze my ankles as I try to follow a soft path frequented by others. Sawyer keeps his pace, occasionally glancing back towards me. We pass by birch trees of all sizes, most adorned with carvings from previous visitors. Some left by lovers, widows, friends, or random phrases etched into the wood.

We slow in a section of tall grass, soft and flowing in the gentle breeze.

“Close your eyes,” Sawyer orders.

I squint, looking around for any hint of surprise but find simple peace. The trees flow gently in the breeze with birds jumping from branch to branch. It’s quite tranquil here.

Heaving a giant sigh, I yield and close my eyes.

The sound of steps through the tall grass is followed by scraping sounds. Sawyer curses under his breath in between the scrapes, causing me to giggle. I cover my mouth to hide the grin.

“Okay, open.”

The inscribed tree in front of me goes farther upward than I noticed. Sawyer crouches on a makeshift fort built between the three firm branches, forming some sort of platform.

“Wow,” I say, walking closer to the tree, still admiring the fort. “How did you find this?”

“Earlier this afternoon. I took a walk and here it was. Took me a moment to find my way up but –” he points to wooden blocks hammered onto the side of the base – “those came in handy.”