Page 54 of Mistletoe

“It’s undignified. People should have their dignity.”

“Emma, you are not upset about shoes.”

She shifted on the wall to face him, tucking one leg under herself. “You told me that you don’t know where you came from.”

“Yes.”

“Is that true? I’m just—” She rubbed that spot between her eyes again. That place he couldn’t remember hadn’t given him clothes to wear. It seemed so unbearably cruel. “I’m not concerned, not really, but I need to know if anyone’s looking for you.”

Hal stood. He loomed over Emma. For a moment, a single heartbeat, she feared that she had insulted him beyond repair. All week long, she’d written off his odd behavior and the lack of basic skills. There was so much she didn’t know—about him, how he found his way to her barn, why he was naked, and why those soldiers chased him in town.

He was trouble, and she ignored all the warnings.

“There.” He pointed to the west, to the purple mountains in the distance. “I’m from the Aerie.”

Fear quickly drained away, replaced by confusion.

“You’re a spy for the vampire,” Emma said. The sheriff was right.

Hal laughed. Loudly. It bellowed across the pasture. The goats looked up in alarm before deciding that grazing on the winter grass was more interesting.

“A spy? No, I was Draven’s captive,” Hal said.

A captive. That explained the scars and general neglect about his person.

“How long?” she asked.

“A long time.”

“Years?”

He tossed her a look sharp enough to cut.

She held up a hand in silent apology. “I want to understand.”

“I didn’t know the specifics. Draven kept me sedated and drugged. My memories are… confusing. Some are missing altogether.”

He returned to the wall, now leaning back on his elbows. They watched the goats in the pasture.

“It’s peaceful here,” he said.

Emma nodded in agreement. “The weather swings from too hot to too cold, and I swear every native animal can kill you, but it’s home.”

“The day you were released from prison?—”

“Jail. It wasn’t as dramatic as prison.”

“Do you want to hear my story, or do you wish to make clever remarks?”

She drew her fingers over her lips in a buttoning motion, then struggled to keep herself from grinning. This orc had a fair bit of sassiness. She liked it.

“That day, after I visited you in the jail, I learned that Draven was being held at the fort. I paid him a visit.”

“Draven was executed after he surrendered. That’s what the papers reported. Sorry.” She once again gestured as if buttoning her lips.

“Those reports are wrong. He escaped. Sadly, shoddy journalism is as much a problem now as it was in my time.”

She was dying to ask what he meant by that.

---