July 27th, 2815

Alyn knelt over Master Hughes as soon as she saw him twitch. There was nothing to do in the cramped wagon. She had already talked the energy out of poor Elliot, who was exhausted from driving the caravan for most of the night. When she tried to speak with him, he would respond with a groggy, dazed, "Eh?"

She traded such stale entertainment for rolling about on the wagon floor and aimlessly poking about.

She prodded Hughes with a finger. His reaction came late. Ten seconds after her finger returned to her lap, he brushed the place that she had poked. His lips twitched and he groaned.

"Good afternoon, Master Hughes," Alyn piped.

Hughes opened his eyes. "Shit." He stared at the ceiling for a moment. Beneath him, the trundling wagon sent uneven jolts up his spine. He was certain he could hear his insides sloshing and his organs jumbling. His gloved hand pressed to his throat and he swallowed. "Shit."

Hughes rolled to his knees, and staggered to his feet. Alyn frowned.

"Master Hughes?"

He grabbed onto a shelf and propelled himself to the wagon's exit. He thrashed at the canvas flap.

"Wait, Master Hughes! We're mov—!"

Hughes tumbled out the back.

"—ing..." She winced and hurried to the steering bench, hooves and haunches free of pants and boots. "Elliot!"

Elliot stirred. "Eh?"

"Stop the wagon!"

"W-What? Why?"

"Master Hughes fell out."

Elliot squinted blankly. He peered into the wagon. Patriot snorted and shook his head. He jerked his reins away from Elliot. The Englishman didn't seem to notice. He laced his fingers over his stomach and settled to sleep again.

Patriot turned the wagon back to find his master. Tim and Elliot's colorful caravan waited by a half of a giant metal wing that jutted up from the parched earth. The frame of the plane that the wing belonged to was barely seen, half-buried at a great distance. Tim sat at the back of his purple, gold, and blue caravan. His crossed legs dangled over the edge, and he watched the wing over a cup of tea.

The teacups, painted with the Union Jack on one half, were Elliot's touch to the decor, as well as the 'Traveling Circus' label neatly scrawled on the caravan's side. It helped to stop questions about their odd collection of animals.

Patriot parked the canvas wagon in place beside the circus caravan. Including their two caravan-pulling horses, Tim and Elliot traveled with nine animals. The horses unhooked themselves from their burden and trotted aimlessly around together. Patriot escaped his wagon to plod after them.

Alyn approached the metal hunk. Master Hughes' white knuckles could be seen clenched at its topside. She heard his gagging and wheezing behind it.

"Master Hughes!"

Tim shook his head from his perch. He watched Master Hughes suffer. "Iye ndi chitsiru." He clicked his tongue. This translated to, "He is a fool."

"What the hell—" Hughes coughed, interrupting himself. He was keeled over. He squinted at her and shielded his eyes with a hand. "What the hell is happening?"

Alyn climbed onto the old structure and sat above him. Her hooves hung. "Elliot thought that you would like to keep moving along, so we went overnight! After you passed out, that is. Gosh, Master Hughes. Ye're an odd drunk." She snickered.

Hughes growled and swore under his breath. He batted her hooves away from his head. "Why don't you do something useful and make me some coffee?" He barked.

"Yeh, awlright." Alyn slid from the wing and cheerfully bounded off.

Tim disappeared into his caravan momentarily. He reappeared with a second steaming teacup and held one in each hand, each on its own matching saucer. With Bwenzi at his side, he wandered to where Elliot snoozed.

"Up." He said. Bwenzi stretched from the ground to prod Elliot's shin with a massive paw.

Elliot blindly scratched his leg and opened his eyes.

Tim offered the Englishman a teacup and gave a slight nod in Hughes' direction. "Drew. Sick."

Elliot gratefully accepted the tea. He took a sip and let his eyes close a moment longer as the familiar warmth and taste touched his senses. He exhaled. "Yes, sick. I would imagine so."

Tim's brows dipped. "Americans." He shook his head.

Elliot nearly spit his tea. He pressed his fingers to his lips and swallowed before laughing. "Americans," he agreed with a long, slow nod.

Tim smiled. He muttered something in Nyanja to his lion and the two meandered away. Elliot climbed from his seat and stretched his arms up to the sky and out to his sides. He yawned and looked to the plane's wing.

"Good morning... Well, good afternoon, Drew," he greeted. Wearily, he stepped up to his old friend and patted the man on the back.

Hughes groaned and straightened. "Where are we?"

"Alyn showed me the map you've been using. We're on the way to Fort Hare, just as you marked."

"Ah. Good. That's good."

"Yeah, you're welcome." Elliot flicked a hand and sipped his tea. "There was a place you didn't mark, however, that I think... I think might be a really good investment of your time."

Hughes frowned. "What place is this?"

Elliot smiled. "I'll show you later. Let's give us both a chance to wake up first, eh?"

Hughes sniffed. "Fine." He raised his voice, "ALYN. Where's my coffee?"

"I only just made the fire, sir!" She answered.

"Hmph." The old man sneered at the ground. He rolled his shoulders and cracked his back.

Elliot wet his lips.

"So," the Brit began, clearing his throat, "you are back to drinking?"

Hughes scratched his whiskers and considered the question. "Never really stopped...," he blatantly admitted. "But, I don't drink much, anymore." He paused, and abruptly jolted. He smacked both both palms to his forehead. "My potion! I—I didn't..."

Elliot gently coaxed Hughes' hands away from his head. "Relax. I gave it to you last night and had Alyn pour it down your throat this morning. You're fine." He gave Hughes a moment to relax. The pair of pals went back a long way. They trusted each other. "So, you don't drink like... well, like last night... often? When was the last time?"

"Like last night?" Hughes repeated. He stroked his chin. "When was the last time you saw me drink that much?"

"Mid '77, perhaps."

"That was the last time."

"Ah!" Elliot exclaimed. "Brilliant! So, you're keeping your sobriety for the most part?"

"Yes. Well, in my own way."

"Good," Elliot approved. "Excellent."

"Why'd you try to drink yourself to death in the first place?" Alyn asked, appearing with Master Hughes' coffee.

Hughes stiffened. Uncertain and accusing, he stared at Elliot. Elliot rubbed the back of his neck. He awkwardly shrugged and breathed an uncomfortable laugh.

"I told her how we met. Nothing more. Honest."

"And now she's going to be asking questions like that," Hughes snapped. He snatched his tin mug from the girl, grumbling heatedly under her breath.

Alyn shrugged. She grinned innocently and patted his back, ignoring how he flinched away. "It's okay, Master Hughes! If it really bothers you, I'll wait 'till you're in a better mood. Don't you worry, sir."

Hughes elbowed her away. He pushed up his rusty bangs and rubbed his brow. "You see what you've done, Elliot? This one's got a big mouth, and a little brain. You know it's the smallest minds that make the biggest noise."

Elliot snickered. "Pfft. Please. She doesn't seem so dull to me. Look, I'll tell her—again—what not to ask, and you just drink your coffee and relax. Is there anything you want to do before getting on the road again?"

Hughes thought for a moment. He drummed his fingers on his mug. "Actually, yes. A few things. Perhaps even a few days out here, if you don't have anywhere better to be. I assume you don't."

"Nah, not really. Tim's happy wherever the caravan is, so we're fine to linger. What are you after?"

"A little bit of training for the urchin. Fencing. Perhaps dual-wielding with that other blade she picked up from the mugger," Master Hughes said, indulging in his coffee. "See what she likes. Oh, and by fencing, I don't mean the sport. Ah, and I would like her to have one of those jolts, if possible. Tim did it to me before..." He snapped his fingers as he searched his memory. "Triggers the nanotechnology?"

Elliot nodded, and nodded again. "I can teach the swords, for sure, but she would have to practice on her own to improve."

"I would expect no less than three hours a day of practise." Hughes agreed.

Alyn kicked the dirt. "Yeah, I can do that. You won't see me complaining, neither. No, sir."

Hughes ignored her. "As for the tech?"

"Oh, you know how Tim is. He sees things that aren't quite right and takes the initiative to fix them. He might just give her a jolt on his own, but if not, I'm sure you can find a way to ask him. The animals can always translate, if you have the patience. They can't speak yet, but they can draw letters in the dirt and spell things out for you. The chimps are quite quick, with fingers and all."

"Hm. Well. There is plenty 'not quite right' with this one."

"Yeah, yeah," Alyn drawled. "Whatever."

Elliot chuckled. "We'll help you get her sorted, Drew. No worries."

***

Alyn swore that if she hadn't ruined herself blacksmithing, she would have been a whole lot better at this sword-fighting ordeal. Just the warm-up exercises left her panting. Her arms threatened to detach themselves when the drills started.

Despite Elliot's recommendation, she had insisted on using both her swords because, she declared, "Two could be both cooler and more dangerous than one."

Unfortunately for Alyn, she was far from cool and dangerous. She was slow and clumsy. The uneven weights of the mugger's balanced sword and her own unbalanced blade didn't help, and neither did her aching muscles. She tripped over herself frequently, even without her boots.

"It's my first time," she scowled, panting. "Go easy on me."

Elliot dropped his harmless fencing foil away from Alyn's throat. "I am going easy on you. Come on, kid... You only have two days to learn before Drew gets you back on the road again. You're doing well for your first time. We'll finish up soon, for the day. I promise."

He used only the one mock blade against her two. She couldn't even get close. He had scraped together the three foils from the storage in his and Tim's caravan. He had a collection of five. He explained that he was teaching Webber and Quint, Tim's two chimpanzees, to fence, and he carried spares as back-ups. It wasn't uncommon for a blade to snap.

"Focus," Elliot said, as if she weren't trying. "Bend your knees more, don't hold your arms by your chest."

Alyn groaned, exasperated. "I am focusing. And I can't bend my knees more."

Elliot pursed his lips. His eyes flicked to her furry haunches, and he rubbed the back of his neck—an awkward habit that Alyn had quickly picked up on. It was frequent.

"Sorry," he winced. "Right. Well, do whatever makes you move the fastest while being the most balanced, and the least predictable... if that makes sense?"

"I am."

Elliot sighed. He scratched under his jaw. "Why don't I give you some drills to go over? You can learn them and practice them in your spare time."

"Show me."

Elliot stepped elegantly into his en guarde position. "I'll only show you two or three, and then we'll be done. We've been practicing long enough, and you deserve a break."

The blonde gave Alyn plenty to remember, despite his promise of only 'two or three' drills. He offered to write things down, but ended up with his hand back on his neck once again when she informed him of her illiteracy. Alyn assured him that she wouldn't forget, and they resumed.

There were multiple parries, a surplus of footwork steps and patterns, and a few 'tactical' attacks and retreats. He pinched the tip of her foil and prodded it away from his armpit.

"Your aim, dear," he said,"could also be improved."

By the time their training period truly ended, the sun had begun its descent. Master Hughes threw handfuls of sand over his forge. His coat was off, his hat and smelly smithing gloves on.

He frowned at them as they trotted into the simple camp, and placed his hands firmly on his hips. Elliot held the three fencing foils. Alyn lagged behind with her hat, scarf, and jacket. She dragged her rolled-up sleeve across her hairline and wet her lips.

"Elliot, you're not even sweating," Hughes scorned. "You didn't go easy on her, did you?"

"Pfft... no," Alyn breathed. Though Elliot may not have been sweating, she was. She had been sweating a consistent waterfall for hours. Her mouth felt cotton dry, and her heart pounded. In pursuit of water, the girl slipped away.

Elliot shrugged and neatly lay the foils on the back of his wooden caravan, away from the doorway. He would store them in their sheaths soon enough. He sat down and folded his hands. "If I didn't go easy on her, she would be bruised all over. I don't have the proper protection in her size. Only two jackets for the chimps, and one for me."

"She would learn to protect herself quicker if there was more at stake," Hughes argued. He pulled at each finger of his gloves individually. "Work her to the bone. If she can't take it, she won't make it: that's the motto."

"Drew! Cut her some slack! She's only a kid."

"Can't take it, won't make it," Hughes repeated. He dropped his gloves on the edge of the forge. "Tomorrow, you won't go easy on her, will you?"

Elliot sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine. But, we won't work as long. You've got to give her some rest time, or those muscles won't grow at all."

"Fair enough," Hughes admitted. He scratched his whiskers and pulled at his shirt. He looked around. "Alyn?" He turned in a full circle. "ALYN. Where's she disappeared to?"

Alyn moaned from behind Tim and Elliot's caravan. "Give me a minute, sir... Good golly."

Elliot peered around to her and chuckled. He shook his head at Master Hughes. "Honestly, Drew, you don't need to be constantly in action. You'll wear the both of you out before you even get to where you need to be."

Master Hughes waved Elliot away. "We get our breaks when we're on the road." He strode to the other side of the Traveling Circus. Their camp had been set up between the two caravans, which reduced some of the heat and dust stirred by the infrequent dry winds. Hughes' blacksmithing equipment was setup at the center of the camp, with a pile of hay to one side for the horses. Three bedrolls were laid out around an empty fire-pit. Alyn was to sleep without one.

The blacksmith put his fists on his hips and frowned down at the faun. Her head was dunked in the horse trough. Her fluffy tail wiggled in the air.

"Hey," grunted Hughes. "HEY."

Alyn surfaced, wet eyes bulging as she gulped down a mouthful of water. She stared at Hughes.

"That water is for the horses, stupid girl."

Alyn wiped her mouth with her sleeve and huffed. Her ears sagged. "I'm thirsty and hot. They can share."

Hughes pulled her up. "You have no self-respect."

Alyn staggered. "Oh, come on, Master Hughes. Can't I have a break? Just for the night?"

"You are having a break. You will have dinner and you will sleep. But first..." Hughes grabbed her collar and led her around the caravan. "...do something for me."

"Isn't everything I do for you, at this point?" She folded her arms and crossly let herself be dragged. Her hooves left a trail in the dirt.

He dropped her by the forge and delved into a bucket of water. Alyn rubbed her rear and eased herself to her feet again.

"Here," said Hughes. He drew two identical metal contraptions from the bucket and nodded to the nearby anvil. "Sit."

Alyn sat and stretched out her legs. "What are those?"

Hughes rummaged in his toolbox. He grunted in the place of an answer and knelt in front of her with a screwdriver. "Hold still." He fastened one of the metal devices to her hoof. There was an iron cup at the bottom that her hoof fit perfectly into, and a stiff wet leather piece jutted from its front in the shape of a shoe. Four iron strips, softened with leather, lined her shin, and one bent to catch her knee in a square pad, also backed with iron. Hughes pressed the strips against her. He tightened screws at the hoof cup, which adjusted the brace-like part of the work. He pinched the knee-pad and bent it to a more suitable position. "Tighter or looser?"

"Uh... It's fine, I guess. What is it?"

"It it going to fall off, or is it going to bruise you?"

"I don't know. It's fine."

Hughes tightened a bolt. "Very well." He fixed the identical contraption to the other hoof and repeated the method. "It will go into your boot so that you can keep your little human disguise without being so ridiculously clumsy all the time. Stop you from slowing me down, eh?"

"I am human! There ain't no disguise about—" She choked on her own words. Her brows raised and her dripping ears drew back. "Oh." A gift, she thought. She pulled her hands to her chest. "Thank you."

Hughes hit the iron strips on the second brace with the heel of his hand. "How's this one?"

"Tight."

Hughes loosened a screw and corrected the fitting. "Better?"

"Yes, sir."

"Try walking."

Alyn stood and took a few steps under Hughes' scrutiny. The leather toe provided some stability while the knee-cap stopped her knee from bending too far. It was far more comfortable than her old braces, and much kinder to her. She sighed and stopped. She bowed her head and rubbed her arm. "I feel like a cripple."

"Don't whine," Hughes scolded. "Keep walking." He watched her knees bounce against the caps, and decided that he was pleased with his improvised invention. To get proportions for the cloven-toed hoof cup, he had measured the prints that she had left in the camp. He had used her boots to measure out the stiff leather 'foot' and the iron strips up her shin, and spent the afternoon working on the device. It fit well.

He gestured her over and she sagged onto the anvil again.

"Oh, what is with the pout, stupid girl?" Hughes drawled. He made no effort to meet her eyes, and she made no effort to find his. He reached for a hoof. "You seemed to have dealt with your differences just fine before me."

She kneaded her cheek and glanced away. "I just figured I wasn't gonn' ever get to stop hiding. Whenever people saw me for me, they'd freak out, and... you know... call me names or try to take me to the doctor."

The blacksmith turned a thin piece of steel at the bottom of one hoof cup, and the cup widened with a pull, fixed on a small track. The first brace slid off, and he reached for the second.

Alyn put her hands on the anvil. "I'm just used to people lookin' at me that way when I don't cover up all of..." She touched her ear. "...this. And now that you and Tim and Elliot don't look at me like that, I guess I just think... I just think things could be better."

Hughes gave a wheeze of a laugh. "Are you going to be sappy?" He pulled off the second brace. "With me?"

"I ain't being sappy," Alyn snapped. She folded her arms and wrinkled her nose. "I'm just explainin', is all."

Hughes pressed the braces at her and squeezed her shoulder. "Things'll be better," he said. His lips drew out. It wasn't the reassuring smile that the girl would have liked, but rather, an uncertain grimace. He gave her an awkward pat and rose, slipping his hands into his pockets. "I'll make you something to eat. Go and find some clean water to drink, not from the horse trough. Can you stay awake for half an hour more?"

Alyn nodded. She held the braces to her chest. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

***

Dinnertime in the camp was a jewel in time that Alyn would have described then to be the best part of her entire life, despite how she was barely awake through it. She sat with a warmed mug of fresh goat milk loosely clutched between both hands, shoulders hunched. Her bleary, hooded eyes sluggishly blinked. She watched the men around her with a half-conscious smile.

The horses socialized over hay further away.

Tim spoke softly with his animal friends—the lion, the two chimps, the coyote, sloth-bear, meerkat and goat. All gathered comfortably around the fire and welcomed each others' company.

Elliot and Master Hughes chatted as old friends. The odd stereotypical jab would be exchanged. The Englishman teased the American, the American teased the Englishman, and they laughed.

It was the little things that made the small-town orphan so content. The laughter, the jokes, the relaxed scene around the campfire. Master Hughes, flask in hand, even managed one or two proper rare smiles. Then he would frown at her and give her a nudge with his elbow.

"Eat something, stupid girl."

She would sway and give a smile, but no words. The men could see that she was not wholly with them.

"Dopey one, isn't she?" Hughes remarked, after perhaps the third time that he had told Alyn to eat. She had stupidly held her mug for a long while, without movement. He looked at Elliot. "You know, I wonder... If you scratch a certain place, do you think her leg'll start kicking? Works for Patriot. It's the funniest thing."

Elliot spread his arms. "Give it a try."

"Ears?"

Elliot nodded twice, long and slow and sarcastic, and unseen by the distracted Yank. "Go for the ears," he encouraged, and sipped his tea.

Hughes switched his silver flask to his other hand and reached to tickle behind the girl's ears. She stirred and lethargically blinked at him. An odd noise of confusion rose from her throat.

Hughes hesitated, then whispered to Elliot his amazement, "They're so soft."

Elliot grinned and lowered his teacup. "Are you going to all fan-boy on me, now?"

Hughes scoffed. "Fan-boy my ass. As if." He turned back to the sleepy faun and hesitantly stroked her ears again. "I can't tell if she minds it."

Alyn yawned and leaned nearer to him. Hughes pointed at Elliot with his flask-holding hand, making sure that he had the Brit's attention. "If she falls asleep, I'm eating her food. Not you." He pointed at Tim. "Not for you, not for your animals."

Tim cocked his head. "Repeat?"

Hughes pointed to Alyn's plate. Harry the coyote had his eye on it. "Mine."

Tim nodded and gave the blacksmith two thumbs up. "Yes."

"Or, she could have it for breakfast," Elliot suggested. "She'll need it more than you, you lug."

Hughes scowled and rolled his eyes. "Fine. That's fair."

Alyn prodded him with a lazy finger, and Hughes glanced down at her. She clumsily pressed her mug into his hand. Confused, he took it.

"What? What do you..."

She curled up beside him and nuzzled her head on his lap. Her eyes closed. Her stupid smile remained.

Elliot put down his tea and clasped his hands over his heart. "Aww!" He cooed.

Master Hughes reddened and raised both his arms away from the child. He furiously avoided meeting Elliot's teasing eyes. "Th-This is bullshit."

Elliot giggled. "That's downright adorable."

Hughes glared.

He placed the mug of milk on the ground and beckoned to the nearby coyote. He irritably drank from his flask. "Shut up, Elliot. Shut up."