Ozan's fingers danced along the strings of his lute, weaving a rich melody as he hummed. Sage and Violet leaned against each other, entranced, as the young bard closed his eyes and sang.

"Along the length of Creathe's coastal ground,

Cerise was distracted by a beautiful sound.

While looking for her mother, Viridian,

She instead found hair, black as obsidian.

His tan back glistened in the evening light,

As he pulled in his nets with all his might.

The beauty of his voice had such a sway,

That the goddess of love couldn't look away.

Her heart became so desirous,

That she conceived her daughter Iris.

Love and music combined and came to be,

Blessed by the salt of the churning sea."

With a few more plucks of his fingers, the song ended, and Ozan opened his eyes to look at his audience of two.

Violet clapped her hands enthusiastically.

"That was amazing," Sage said in earnest. "I could practically see Cerise as she walked down the shore."

Ozan kept the lute cradled in his lap, absent-mindedly caressing its strings. "Do you understand why I assumed you were from fishermen families?" he asked.

Sage and Violet both shook their heads. "Everyone in Creathe knows the tale of Iris's birth. But..." He shrugged one shoulder as his voice trailed off.

"Cerise, daughter of the sea, chose a fisherman to be the father of her only child." Ozan held up one palm. "Her loyalties are clear."

The word loyalty tickled at Sage's memories. "But she's the goddess of love, not loyalty, and we all experience love."

Ozan raised his eyebrows and smiled wide, showing off his slightly crooked front teeth. "Who, my new friend, is the goddess of loyalty?"

"Tawny," Sage and Violet answered in unison.

Ozan held up one finger triumphantly. "Exactly." And then he stood. "Thank you for the company, but now that I have eaten, I shall take my leave. I hope to reach Creathe before nightfall."

Violet and Sage stood as well, brushing the dirt from the backs of their thighs. "The first ranch you see shall be my family's," Violet spoke. "My father, Timaeus, will gladly offer you hospitality for the night. But, Ozan, can I ask that you don't mention seeing us?"

Ozan nodded thoughtfully. "I understand your position, but as a guest, it would be against my honor to lie to him if asked directly."

"Of course," Sage agreed. "Just please do not volunteer the information. That is all we ask. And with the luck of the gods, we will nearly be to Cerikipos before he could set after us."

"I wish you luck." Ozan stuck out one hand towards Sage, who grasped it firmly. "There are several farmhouses along the road. I am sure you will reach one of them before nightfall, as long as you don't dally." He winked and then let go of Sage's hand.

A blush crept up Sage's neck as Ozan walked back to the road.

Violet touched his shoulder. "We should probably be on our way as well."

Sage picked several more apricots and placed them in his satchel for later. And then the two of them set back off on the path.

The road curved away from the coast and headed into the forest. Sunlight filtered down through newly budded leaves. Wildflowers sprouted at the trunks of trees, and without the ever-present ocean breeze, birdcalls filled the air.

Violet's knuckles brushed against Sage's and he hooked his pinky with hers.

"Maybe I shouldn't have told Ozan my father's name," she said.

"He was going to come upon your ranch even if you hadn't said anything," Sage reasoned. "Now, at least, he won't be caught off guard if he's asked about seeing us."

"True." She shifted her arm and grasped Sage's hand in hers. "And maybe he will say something reassuring to my mother. I feel guilty leaving without saying goodbye."

Sage squeezed her hand. "We'll be back home in a day or two. I'll keep you safe."

He hoped he was telling the truth. His shepherd's crook felt solid in his hand, and although his confrontation with the wolf had ended with him injured, he also knew he was brave enough to face any danger.

They continued to plod along through the wooded road, their feet becoming sore, until the trees thinned out. A hill to their right blocked the view of the ocean, but the smell of salt filled their noses. The sun was dipping towards the horizon, Xanthus ending his daily ride. Sage was relieved to see a farmhouse in the distance, and he hoped Ozan was correct that these people would be welcoming to strangers.

"We should go knock on their door and seek hospitality," Sage suggested as they approached the property.

Neat rows of green sprouted from dark earth and the scent of rich soil mingling with the ocean breeze. There was a thin ribbon of white smoke floating up from the farmhouse chimney, but no one was out in the fields.

Violet squeezed Sage's hand. "What do we tell them?"

Sage didn't understand. "That we are travelers?" His voice raised, ending the sentence as a question.

"We can't very well tell them we are two lovers running away to seek a goddess's blessing. Ozan was a musician. A man of the road. But if we seek shelter from these people, they might be compelled to protect my honor and return me to my father."

It was a fair point. Sage was so caught up in the adventure, and in his desire to make sure Violet was safe tonight, that he hadn't thought through this basic danger.

"We could say I am your brother." Sage shrugged and bit his lip. They didn't look much alike, but not all siblings did.

"Lie?"

"Tawny sent us on this quest. It would be a lie of necessity." He knew it would be dishonorable, but spending the night with his betrothed before their wedding was also taboo.

Violet shook her head. "It wouldn't feel right. And besides, I keep thinking of Ozan being with my family right now."

"What of it?"

"How many people do we need to include in our quest? The more witnesses there are, the greater chance we will be stopped."

They reached the fork in the path that led to the farmhouse and paused. Above them, the celestial canopy was darkening from a bright azure–namesake of the King of Mount Ovidia–to a shade of indigo–the color the God of Death was named after. The day was dying, and they had to make a choice.

"Let's keep walking, then," Sage concluded. "The path winds back towards the shore and we can set up a camp under the shelter of an oak or in the dunes. We will wake early and make it to Cerikipos before the morning sun even has had time to warm the earth."

Violet looked between Sage and the farmhouse down the path, and then she smiled. "Good thing we found those apricots."

"Yes," Sage agreed as they continued to walk into the fading light. "Would you like one right now?"

She nodded, and they both ate another few of the fruits as they continued to walk.

As Sage had predicted, the path soon turned back towards the ocean. However, the land did not slope down to a beach. Instead, they found themselves on the edge of a cliff, a view of the expansive crescent bay spread out before them. At the northern tip of the bay, several dim lights twinkled in the distance. Sage wondered if one of those lights came from Timaeus's house and if Ozan was sitting there right now, telling Violet's family how he had seen them absconding down the road.

"We are nearly there," Violet said, pointing south.

Indeed, they were near the bottom point of the wide bay. They would reach their destination in just another hour of walking, as long as the road remained unobstructed. If they had just left earlier in the day, they would have made it to the gardens without having to seek shelter for the night. Sage hoped that meant they would be back in Creathe by tomorrow's sunset.

"We're quickly losing light." Sage looked around. To the right of the path, there was a small stand of trees. "Let's have an evening meal of more apricots and try to get a few hours of sleep."

They walked over to the trees, trodding through the green underbrush.

"At least there will be plenty of soft vegetation to sleep on," Violet said with a laugh.

"Some of these flowers are quite pretty." Sage pointed at one plant that seemed to grow in abundance. "Look at those interesting flowers on the ground. They almost look like miniature jugs."

Violet leaned down to examine the individual flowers that grew mostly shaded under two adjoining leaf stocks. "I think this is ginger," she started, "but these flowers are so pink."

"I'd call them cerise, actually," Sage said, bemused.

"Yes, exactly." Violet squinted her eyes. "Ginger flowers are normally darker. More of a maroon, I would say."

Sage grasped the base of one plant and yanked it up. The roots were thick tubers, and he shook out the dirt. "Does this look like ginger root?" he asked.

Violet took the plant from him and stepped out from under the shadows of the trees. "Yes, I think so."

"Excellent! One down, and only two more to find!" Then his smile faded. Sage's stomach growled painfully. "I think I ate too many apricots," he groaned.

"You know," Violet said, handing back the ginger. "They say that ginger helps settle the stomach."

He looked at the dirt-covered tubers suspiciously. "I've never had ginger raw. Tea, sure, but we don't have a kettle."

"I think you can chew it."

Sage reached for the small knife he kept on his belt and pulled it from its sheath. It was only the length of his thumb and he didn't sharpen it as nearly as he should, but he gripped it in his hand and easily peeled off some of the thick skin of the tuber, revealing a pale, fibrous flesh. He notched off a piece and tentatively took it between his teeth. Slowly, he chewed, contemplating the strong taste. "I like it," he concluded, and peeled off more.

They walked back under the trees and found a place to settle, sitting against the trunk and leaning against each other.

"Is your stomach feeling better?" Violet asked as she closed her eyes.

"Not just my stomach," Sage answered. "I feel a strange warmth. A good strange."

As he drifted off to sleep, Sage felt a stream of comforting heat flow into his veins. His hairs tingled. And he vaguely wondered why the ginger flower was such a bright pink color, and what that might mean.