A Forest On Fire

The Courageous Girl

Now the affairs of Lydia and the poor, debilitated Maribelle shall be shown as it happened at the time Elliot left the bar with Officer Leo. Lydia was for a time, as the Governor felt, in danger; however, she was not in immediate danger. The overwhelming, sickening physical sensation Elliot felt was Lydia's own paranoia and worry, for she did know that the hunters had arrived; she knew it was only a matter of time before the girl "snitched," as she herself put it. Lydia was by no means trying to project her feelings and thoughts onto Elliot, but the bond the two shared made it so.

The "bond" being the physical and emotional link between the two. Only Lydia knew of the connection; Elliot was clueless, but she was clueless by choice. She would know, if she paid attention. She would know of the bond if she paid attention to the fact that Lydia always seemed to know what she was thinking, or what she wanted to do; for instance, buying the train tickets to Chlealiva. Of course, Lydia established the link herself early on in their relationship, and it has been this way for years. It was a simple matter of getting Elliot alone with her and forcing her into a trance-like state and creating the bond with whatever means she had available all those years ago. Whether or not she would ever reveal the secret to Elliot is a matter for her to decide, but, perhaps ironically, Lydia believed that the less she knew, the better.

How Lydia managed to cadge help from some poor, broken-down Chalinian family that has barely the supplies to provide for their own children will now be explained. She did not, in fact, cadge or beg for the help. She bribed them. She had stolen a purse of money from Merlin's satchel; quite a bit of money, in fact. Most likely, these were his wages for at least a few months, but, surely, these people needed it more. After all, Elliot took care of them like children; he hardly needed it for himself.

Right away, the mother of the family gave the pouch of money to two small children, a boy and a girl, whispered something to them, and out the door they fled. The woman told Lydia to take Maribelle to one of the bedrooms, where she would tend to her. The woman was timid, tremulous; Lydia might have chalked it up to simply being the nature of the woman, until she saw that the husband, too, looked pale and dismayed. Neither of them spoke English, and Lydia pretended not to speak Friman, simply to avoid conversation. The man offered her coffee with awkward gestures and eyebrow raising, being the only means he knew how to communicate with someone who did not know his own language.

By now, Lydia had, indeed, noticed with a deprecatory glance that the man was wearing Abraham's coat; the coat which he had given Louis Laurue. She was, by no means, going to take it from him. Abraham gave it to the boy willingly; it was Louis' now, and his to choose what to do with. The boy who left had looked familiar to her, and, because she knew the man would not understand her, said aloud, "Why, what a coincidence! To think that I'd ever see that wonderful cashmere coat again- on an unintended recipient, no less." She simpered and glared at the man.

He gave both a bewildered and a threatened look.

All of the entertainment fell from Lydia's face. "Ellas as vure mapre?" She decided pretending wasn't worth it.

The husband gave a start, and he sputtered like an old engine before finally spitting words out, "Axel Laurue, Madame."

Lydia laughed loudly and half-hunched in her seat. "So it is true! Here is the family of poor, dear Louis."

The man indeed did not understand her, but he understood his son's name. "Louis? Quella charê vou t'cän luim?"

She was in an indecorous mood; she smiled down at the small man. "Jou'ren vach luim täpeu."

The man's expression quickly switched into a dark and brooding one; his voice turned bitter, "Ceda kofét poiga, esa mettjàn lokté evrecc barach!"