“Who's Alemania?” I hammered the last tent stake into the ground with my mother's small hammer. I wiped the sweat from my brow and looked to her bending over next to the tent.

  “Who?” My mother glanced over her shoulder. Her hands now busied themselves with the leather thongs holding the tent's door to its frame.

  I bent over, grabbed the pack by her feet and slipped her hammer back into its pouch before dusting off my hands on my pants. “The noblewoman that came by. You seemed to know her.” I kept my voice low, barely a whisper.

  My mother paused her work and glared up at me, not moving her head. Her fingers resumed their work but she held me locked in her gaze. I felt a chill despite the muggy air around us. “Not market talk, boy. You never know who's listening.”

  “She knows too much, mother.”

  “Shut up, I said!”

  “Who are you staring at, boy? Finish that up for your mother.” A blusterous voice shouted over us from behind me. My mother perked up with a smile.

  Fern, a man with little brains, many brawns, and a thing for my mother. I hated him with every fiber of my being. The way he talks to my mother, how he constantly feels the need to touch me in some way, he always knew how to get under my skin.

  Deep breath in, deep breath out. I turned to walk away but a large hand came down on to my shoulder. Prying his fingers away with both hands didn't help me escape, his fingers clamped me tight. I had no choice but to surrender.

  “Mornin’ Margie!” He said with a smile. “Geeze, your boy’s pretty jumpy isn’t he? I gotta hold him down so he doesn’t fly away.” I winced as he patted my shoulder roughly, hammering me into the dirt like I did with the stakes.

  Fern ignored my constant attempt to shrug him off. His large bear paw of a hand still gripping me tight, weighing down my shoulder. My mother brushed the dirt off her dress and pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.

  “Leave the poor boy alone, Fern. I’m done anyway.” She tossed the sack into the tent and anchored her fists in her hips.

  Fern released my shoulder and instinctively, I shuffled away from him. Finally, free. Despite the distance between us, his bellowing voice still hurt my ears, even after slamming my hands against them. “That’s how you ruin a good boy, Margie! You gotta be tougher on him!”

  “Don’t you have rocks to sell Fern? They ain’t gonna sell themselves.” My shoulders tensed, waiting for retaliation for the sharpness of my voice. The man sized me up, a strange look on his face. Anger? Curiosity? Surprise?

  “That’a boy!” He yelled, slapping the back of my shoulder like I’d seen him do with his drinking buddies. I stumbled over my feet, nearly tripping from the strength of the stinging blow.

  “There’s hope for you yet, boy. Good luck today, Margie.”

  “You too, Fern.” My mother replied with a smile and a small wave. I looked over my shoulder as the broad-shouldered man waddle back to his tent.

  “I don’t get how you can stand that jerk,” I grumbled, digging a small hole with my toes in the dirt.

  My mother shook her head. “Oh, my child. He likes me but he doesn’t know how to talk to women.” Under the dirt a tiny pebble scratched my foot. I tried picking it up with my toes, huffing in frustration at the loss of control over my growing body.

  “Where are your boots?”

  “Home,” I answered with a sigh. “They don’t fit anymore. They hurt my feet, a lot.” My mother stared intensely down at my feet, shaking her head.

  “What are you doing today? Planning on following Hera around?”

  “Yes, mother.”

  “In that case,” my mother grabbed my hand and shoved two bronze coins in my palm. I looked up into her eyes. The twinkle of life danced in them. How long has it been since I've seen it?

  “Buy a couple of those sweet cakes you like from her father.” She wrapped my fingers around the coins and continued to hold my closed fist. “And I better see one of them cakes appearing under the flap of my tent, young man.”

  She gave me a slight push in the direction of Hera’s bakery. “Now get going! I’ll see you this afternoon.”

  “Thanks!” I waved her goodbye and turned down the path. It didn't take long before I took off running as fast as my legs could take me

  ──── ? ────

  The bakery run by Hera’s father was not hard to find after a short walk in the sweltering summer heat. The stone walls and thatched roof that didn’t hold back the delectable smell of bread and pastries slowly came into view, towering above the buildings around. Being the only baker in the village afforded Hera a few luxuries I could only dream of: a home not in disrepair, shirts without holes, food every day.

  Opening the door sent a rush of warmth and spices into my nose, my mouth watered. The chatter of customers filled the otherwise quiet air.

  Customers of all walks of life mingled in the small store front. Hearty farmers in woolen shirts stood shoulder to shoulder with servants of the nobility dressed in white linen tunics. Hera’s father knew his craft. His spice cakes frequently made the trip to the capital city.

  “Why are you here?” The gruff voice behind the counter asked, his disgust evident in his tone of voice. He crossed his arms over his chest. Flour clung to the curly black hairs covering his lower arms.

  Stolen story; please report.

  I looked down at the little cakes, all carefully prepared by the grumpy man. It could've been the ovens behind him but a rush of warmth settled into my cheeks.

  “Is Hera here, sir?” I mangled the words as I stuttered my question scanning the variety of cakes. They all blurred together in front of me.

  A fist slammed the counter sending a jolt through my body from the shock of the sudden movement. I knew Hera’s father didn't approve of me but this anger seemed to be a bit much. I slowly looked over at the dark angry eyes looking up to me.

  “I've told you. Stay away from my daughter!”

  “Father, leave him alone!” My heart jumped in my chest racing at the sharp yet soft voice. Slowly I turned around toward the stairwell in the back. Hera!

  I melted seeing her tense face slowly appearing from the second floor of the bakery as her soft footsteps creaked on the wooden stairs. Her black hair peppered with flour fell in beautiful curls along her shoulders. When she turned to face the shop floor her wide smile revealed the hole where she missed a single tooth.

  “Get back upstairs now!” Her father pointed toward the ceiling. Customers in the bakery fell silent, turning away from the irate baker, pretending to browse through goods. But yet, they still curiously glanced back toward the counter.

  “And you,” he turned his firey gaze toward me. “Get out!”

  Hera rushed to my side, sliding her arm around my back and resting her hand on my hip. Her dry hair tickled my arm as she leaned against my side.

  “Father, lighten up will you? He's done nothing wrong.” Suddenly Hera pulled away and grabbed my arm. She pulled me toward the middle of the counter displaying the elaborately decorated cakes. “Which one you want?”

  “Keep your filthy hands off my spice cakes, boy.” Why? I wasn’t touching his spice cakes. Although, the blueberry cakes did catch my eye. The flavor of tart berries, the sharp spices, flavors that danced in perfect harmony together. Oh, how I love those cakes. I'm sure Hera knows.

  “Hera, it's fine. I don't need one. I could never afford it anyway.” I shrugged my arm free from Hera’s grasp and trudged toward the door. My heart fell to the floor. Please don't follow me I silently begged. I don't want her to have trouble with her father. As I pulled the door open the grey eyed gaze of a servant caught my eye, his jaw slowly dropping to the floor before slightly bowing his head. Can this week get any stranger?

  “Disgraceful. My daughter running with that, beggar boy. Urg! Harm! Get in here and run the damn counter!”

  I blinked the first tear away as I stepped outside the door. Step for step I walked back toward the market shaking my head. I should've known her father would've been behind the counter. The bakery door slammed behind me.

  “Bel! Wait!”

  Too late. I was already gone

  ──── ? ────

  Small, alone, with knees to my chest, I sat under the ancient oak tree upon the hill overlooking the sprawling market where my mother was hard at work. Each breath I took trembled through my exhausted body. Sore eyes burned hotter than the sun's rays poking through the white clouds.

  “Bel?” I buried my face between my knees. Why? Why did she follow me up here?

  Hera’s hand glided gently down my back as she sat down next to me in the grass. The smells of the bakery wafting off her like a sweet perfume. She inched herself as close as she could to me. I couldn’t bring myself to pull away.

  “Hera, I'm sorry.” I muttered staring at my dirty feet.

  “Bel, shut up. It's my father that should be apologizing. He can't look past what he sees in front of him.” Her soft lips met my cheek sending my heart fluttering like the butterflies landing on the flowers in the grass.

  I looked to the girl next to me. She turned to stare outward, I followed her gaze out over the farm fields toward the looming mountain range.

  Hera stared outward toward the capital city. I tried to figure out what she was looking at but there was too much for me to take in. The capital city was built into the side of the mountain range. The lower levels at the foothills of the mountain are populated with homes and shops similar to what you could find in our humble village.

  Just under the peak of the mountain was a ledge specially built for the royal palace, its walls made of brilliant white stone. Adorning the high walls of the palace spires were aqua banners waving in the wind.

  “It's beautiful isn't it? The palace.” Hera rubbed my back while she leaned her head on my shoulder. “We could just go. I have a few connections in Sirjandian. Us together, we can start a bakery. ”

  “I don't think my mother would ever allow it,” I chuckled under my breath before pushing Hera gently into the grass. I leaned over her gazing down into her deep brown eyes. Hera reached up and flicked my nose.

  “Silly boy, nobody ever said we'd be telling our parents we're leaving.” She rubbed her hand along my cheek before looking toward my wrist. “Bel, why don't you wear the bracelet I made for you, the one with the aqua shell?”

  I flopped in the grass next to Hera and looked to the sky. Her head forced the breath out of my lungs when she laid it on my chest. A smile crept across my face.

  “My mother took it away. Only nobles can wear aqua, she said.”

  “You know, Bel, I think the sea wanted me to give it to you. You walked in front of me and then the shell just washed ashore.” She reached up waving her hand like soft waves.

  Hera suddenly sat up, casting her shadow over my face. She hastily dug in the pockets of her dress. “You know what else only a noble can do?” She pulled out a small cake with small blueberries on top. “Share this cake with a friend. Sit up, Bel!”

  The sweet aroma of spices danced in my nose. I quickly sat up and looked toward the capital city. But something about the city seemed off. The bright walls of the palace seemed to have lost their color. I felt a slight pressure pushing against the back of my eyes. I squeezed them tight but when I opened them again, the edges of my vision were being encroached by black flecks. That pressure exploded into a full blown migraine.

  I grunted as I lowered my head into my hands. I couldn’t begin to describe what I was feeling. I felt every heart beat in my head. The sounds of the market assaulted my ears. I wanted to cover them but I was worried that removing my hands from my temples would allow my head to bust apart.

  “Bel, what’s wrong?” Hera asked.

  “Hera, I’m gonna be sick.” I groaned I turned and returned what little I had eaten to nature. I stayed on hands and knees, not daring to move. The pain was the worst in my head but it felt like it radiated through my whole body. Even my blood felt warmer than usual as it coursed through my veins.

  “Come on Bel, let’s go” Hera gently tugged at the sleeve of my shirt.

  Between the pounding in my head, my heightened sensitivity to light and sound and frankly, my embarrassment of getting sick in front of Hera, I snapped.

  “Go away! Leave! Just let me die here.” I shouted at her, swatting her hand away.

  Hera didn’t get angry with my harsh words and brash actions. I winced as she flung my arm over her shoulders. She tried to pull us to our feet but my dead weight refused to cooperate.

  She whispered into my ear, each word stabbing into my head like a knife. “Let’s go, Abel. You need to get back to your mother, now.”

  Leaning on Hera I staggered to my feet. My head screamed in pain and I fell back on my knees, crying out in pain. Hera grasped my arm tighter so I couldn’t push my palms into my face and give up. As much as my body fought to give up the effort.

  I managed to stagger onto my feet long enough to stand up and open my eyes. The ground flickered through the thin slits quickly filling with tears.

  Hera guided me gently along, through the throngs of the market. My consciousness fought to stay alert.

  “Margie! Help!” Hera’s voice ripped through my head. The tent flap slammed shut and I collapsed onto the pillows. Stone, the angered shouts of a man and the screams of a woman intruding my thoughts before my entire world went black.