"Tell me about the woods," Sally said when they took a break from their chores.

Her words had a slight slur and her nose was red, a telling sign that Sally had been draining her secret bottle at a rapid pace. She was slumped over the counter, cradling an empty cup and watching Credence eat a bowl of stew.

"My head is seven sizes too big today—tell me a story to take my mind off it."

Credence recounted the time when skeletons visited her home, describing in detail the fascinating way they moved as they built the family well, and how the food they ate fell through their bones.

Sally listened with a smile on her face, not interrupting once and only tearing her gaze away to refill her cup. When Credence finished with the skeletons crumbling to dust and scattering to the wind, Sally gave a dreamy sigh.

"I don't know if a word you said is true, but I hope it is. The things you must have seen out there!"

"What about you?" Credence asked. "What was life like with your ma and pa?"

Sally rolled her empty cup back and forth on the counter.

"Mum was a pleasant woman. Happy all the time. Da was...less so—but he was never mean. He just had a sadness about him. Something in life that hit him with it."

"What was it?"

"All the men in my family carried it, Da said to me once. Said I was lucky to be a girl because it meant the sadness would pass over me. It had to do with his father's father's father or something like that. I wasn't supposed to ask about it, but one day Da told me he was never really content because he was searching for something. All the men in my family were. Something...other, you know."

"What something?"

Sally shrugged. "Never did find out. Mum told me it was the same with Da's father too. Somewhere long ago in the line, one of the men, with a wife and children of his own, took it upon himself to leave. Maybe it was a curse, or maybe the urge caught him just right, but he took off from the towns while babblin' about some higher purpose. Talkin' about greatness and royalty deep in the woods. There was even a tale about him runnin' through the streets, naked as nature, taking dirt and leaves from the ground and covering his shoulders and head like it was clothes."

Sally stopped rolling the cup.

"Ever heard anything about that?" she asked, hope in her voice. "About royals in the woods?"

Credence bit the inside of her cheek.

She knew quite a lot about royalty living in the woods.

She wasn't sure how Sally would take it, to hear that the same girl she was talking to had been promised to become the queen of them.

"No," Credence said. "Never heard anything about that."

Sally grunted. "Well, that betrayal, that leaving, broke the heart of every man in my family, even those who weren't born yet. They carried it like...like a hat on their head. A hat of blue, that's what Da would say on the days when he could barely lift himself from bed. 'My hat of blue is on tight today'. But sometimes..."

Sally gave a heavy sigh.

"Sometimes I'm afraid that sadness got passed to me, somehow. Da never had a son to give it to, so maybe I got it instead. And I think...if I don't fight it all the time, it'll overtake me. And one day it'll be me running into the woods naked."

"That's not true," Credence said and meant it. "You're the kindest person I've met in the towns. You're special, Sally."

The woman smiled, but it did not touch her eyes.

"Thank you for saying that. S'what I needed to hear today."

She filled her cup with mead.

"No use to wallow in it now," she said at last. "Not when there's a happy night ahead of us."

That night, Sally allowed Credence to refill the guests' drinks once more. This time, however, Credence was instructed to give the hardest slap she could conjure to any hands that hovered too close—and after Sally delivered two smart smacks of her own across the faces of a pair of bold customers, the rest of the tavern understood that no such behavior would be permitted with Credence anymore.

For the first couple of hours, Credence stayed close to Sally, trailing behind her like a cub after its mother. She had horrible guilt over putting Sally's life at risk, and now she thought the only way to repay the woman was to guard her and ensure she was safe at all times. Fear crept into Credence, that she had been spotted looking too closely at the wall, or that Gregory may have told on her, and she spent the early hours of evening waiting for an armed guard to burst through the door and drag her and Sally away.

But no one ever came, and as the night wore on Credence relaxed and grew more independent in her work. Sally hadn't said a word about Credence's proximity, even when the girl inadvertently got in her way several times. The woman likely attributed the behavior to unease over what happened in the morning and remained patient—though Credence recognized a bit of relief in Sally's face once she felt comfortable enough to stray.

Credence noted with mild interest that the hooded stranger had returned and took the same table in the corner, lighting their long pipe and making no attempt to engage with anyone else. Something about the stranger held Credence's curiosity, but she kept her distance and only approached when beckoned. She guessed it was the hood disguising the stranger's face that piqued her interest, for underneath it could be anyone.

A disguised noble. A traveler making a short stop.

Someone dangerous.

With no way of knowing the truth, Credence remained comfortable in their wordless interactions.

The hooded stranger seemed to prefer it this way, too.

A congenial routine had begun between them.

Credence kept an eye on the corner, and when the stranger pushed their empty mug to the edge of the table she would scurry over to refill it, and after a dismissive but polite wave, she'd give a curtsy before promptly leaving the guest alone.

This continued for the last nights of Credence's work detail, and she found herself pleased by the stranger's arrival. There was an easy peace in their relationship, and after the myriad of twists and surprises in her life, Credence appreciated the lack of change in their meetings.

Monotony. That was what she needed, that was what she craved.

An interesting development, she thought to herself as she stared at the stranger in the corner, for at home, routine was the thing she used to abhor.

Perhaps she enjoyed the hooded stranger's company because they didn't seem to notice her at all, and was therefore no threat to her. The stranger never attempted to grab or touch her. The stranger never shouted or stumbled about the tavern. They simply arrived, sat at the same table, had a few drinks and smoked a pipe, and left quietly when the crowd began to thin.

Credence decided that the hooded stranger was her favorite of all the guests.

On her final night at the tavern, the silence was broken between them. The mug had been pushed to the edge of the table to signal Credence, and she rushed over with her pitcher. As she was leaning to pour, a raspy male voice addressed her.

"Fine night, isn't it?"

Credence bristled and took her eyes off of her pouring. 

"Excuse me...sir?"

"I said it's a fine night." His voice was so low that Credence had to lean closer—

She felt a splash across her hand and looked down to find that she had overfilled the mug.

"I'm sorry," she said with a gasp and grabbed a rag from her tunic pocket to soak the spill.

"It's all right," the stranger whispered back. "I startled you."

"You did, but I should have been more careful."

"A good rule to live by."

Credence smiled at him, though she didn't know if he returned it, and quickly finished mopping the water.

"I'll leave you to it," she said and gave her customary curtsy.

"Wait," the stranger pleaded, stopping her instantly. "This is your last night here, isn't it?"

She raised an eyebrow at him, not sure if he was supposed to know such a thing.

"It is."

"Be careful at the school."

"What do you mean?"

"It's dangerous there. I think you already know that."

Was he playing a game?

The stranger continued, "Someone is watching you. Be mindful of that."

"I will. Thank you."

The stranger gave his usual dismissive wave and Credence left his table, unsettled and confused.

Her mind racing with worry, she went into the kitchen to collect her thoughts.

What if he was sent by the Headmaster?

Had her conversation with the man beneath the hatch door been discovered?

Who was the hooded stranger—a guardian or an enemy?

Was he warning her, or threatening?

Credence had to know the answer.

She swallowed her fear and left the kitchen to return to his table and question him further, intent on discovering who he really was—

But when she went back into the main room, the table in the corner was empty.