Tala didn't visit Dougal again after that, but after a few weeks she would occasionally see him with his father, a large man with a thick, bushy beard, on their newly repaired cart as they came into town for supplies. She supposed that the horse pulling the cart was the one that had run off on the day of the accident, found and returned to its owners. If Dougal saw her he would give her a friendly wave which she would return, but otherwise Tala would pretend not to see him as she hurried to the church hall.

     The incident faded from her mind, until the day she was in her cottage, sewing a hole in her cotton shirt, when there came a knocking on the front door. Tala froze in fear. No-one ever came to her house. She never had visitors, ever. She hurriedly pulled on her thick, woollen jumper and hurried to the window to look out and see who it was.

     It was Dougal, she saw in surprise. He had left the small horse and cart he'd ridden in on at the end of her garden and was standing by the door, staring around at the animals that had gathered curiously around him. <Man!> cried the blackbirds in alarm. <Man, man, man, man, man!>

     <Yes, I know it's a man,> Tala replied. <Now get out of here before you scare him off.> Before he starts wondering why the animals around here are so friendly towards humans, she thought. Better get rid of him as fast as I can.

     She went to the door and opened it. "Dougal," she said, trying to sound surprised, although he had probably seen her looking through the window. "How's the leg?"

     "Twinges a bit now and then," he replied. "Pretty much mended, though. Ethel says to be careful with it for another couple of weeks, just to be safe, but it's pretty much back to normal."

     He stared at her expectantly and Tala tried to remember what the rules were when someone visited your home. "Will you come in?" she asked. "I'll get you a cup of tea."

     "Thanks, but I can't stay long."

     Tala was surprised by the feeling of disappointment that accompanied the relief. She found herself looking at his chest, now covered in a leather tunic, and remembered how it had looked bare when he'd been lying in the healer's bed. She returned her eyes to his face before he noticed. She was suddenly very aware that her own chest was bare beneath the woollen jumper and her heart quickened as she imagined his hands reaching out to touch her. Stop it you foolish woman! she scolded herself. What kind of brazen harlot are you?

     "I wanted to thank you again for saving me," said Dougal, smiling as he met her gaze. "I asked the folks in town where you lived."

     "That's really not necessary," Tala replied. "Besides, you've thanked me already."

     "Not properly..." Dougal began to reply, but his voice faltered when he saw that her attention was no longer on him. There was a deer nosing curiously in at the end of her garden. The horse turned its head to look at it. <Go away,> Tala told it. <Come back later when the man's not here.>

     <Why? asked the deer. <Is it a bad man?>

     <All men are bad,> Tala told it. <Stay away from all men, and stay away from here when there are men here.> She raised her voice to be heard by all the animals in the area. <Did you hear that? Stay away when there are men here.>

     <Men are good,> said the horse, though. <They give me oats. They brush my fur. Brushing my fur feels good.>

     <You work for men,> Tala told him. <The other animals don't. I was talking to them, not to you.> Around her, the animals were leaving, though. The deer bowed its head to her, then turned and bounded away.

     "Are you okay?" asked Dougal, staring at her curiously.

     "Fine," said Tala, making herself smile. "Just thinking of something. You've thanked me already. There's no need to say it again."

     Dougal suddenly looked embarrassed, though. "Well, actually, I had another reason for coming here," he said. "It's the harvest day dance in town next week. I wanted to ask if you'd go with me. I know that a gir... A woman as fine as you must already be walking out with someone but I'd curse myself for a fool for the rest of my life if I didn't at least ask. If you're already going to the dance with someone else then that's fine. I'm glad for you and I hope the two of you have a fine time."

     Tala stared in surprise. The words fo accept his offer jumped to the tip of her tongue but she bit them off before they could escape. Dougal had seen, though, and his face lit up with delight. Tala took a step back into her doorway and Dougal's face fell again in confusion. "You're not going with someone else?" he asked.

     "I don't really do dances," Tala replied. "I'd trip over my feet and everyone would laugh at me."

     "We could have a few practice dances before we went," said Dougal encouragingly. "We could try now, if you like. I don't have to be back at the farm for an hour or two."

     Tala wanted to say yes. She could already feel the young man's rough, calloused hand in hers. She could feel the other hand around her waist, pulling her body close against him. It would be wonderful. It would be delightful, but then what? They would go to the dance and he would ask her to another. He would come calling regularly and suddenly they would be courting. It would only be a matter of time before he discovered that she had a special relationship with the forest animals and he would guess the truth. What would he do then? Would he love her enough to keep her secret, or would he turn her in to the King's men? In her minds eye she saw the stocks in the village square and the pile of fist-sized stones on the other side of the road. She couldn't get involved with him. She didn't dare.

     "Thany you," she said therefore, "but the answer is no. I can't go with you. I'm sure you'll find another fine lass to dance with you..."

     "I don't want to go with someone else," said Dougal, though. "I want to go with you."

     "I don't dance. I can't dance. And there are too many things I need to do. I live alone here, as you know. I have to do everything myself. It takes all my time."

     "I could come over and help you..."

     "Your dad needs you on your farm. I know how much work it takes to work a farm."

     "I know better than you how much work it takes to work a farm, and if I say I can spare the time then I can." He took a step closer to her until he was standing in the doorway. Tala took another step back.

     "We grow potatoes and cabbage," Dougal added. "Most of the time they just grow and they need no-one to help them do it. The crop's in. We sold them to the merchant and got a good price for them. All we've got to do now is plough the fields before the frosts come and Da says they'll come late this year."

     Tala also knew the frosts would be late. The animals had told her. It left her feeling desperate as she searched for a plausible reason to turn the man down. Something better than that she just didn't like him; something that he would be able to tell wasn't true and that would make him worried. He would imagine a man living secretly in the cottage with her, perhaps, keeping her all to himself. He would want to go charging him to drive him away with his fists.

     What else could she say, though? This was the perfect man. The kind of man she dreamed of as she lay alone in her bed in the small hours of the morning. The kind of man she thought of as her fingers went places and did unspeakable things. Perhaps she should go to the dance and make sure he didn't enjoy her company. She could flirt with all the other young men, perhaps, to make Dougal feel unwanted so he would never ask her again. Except that that would make all the young men come chasing after her and she would only have multiplied her problem.

     "I'm sorry," she said therefore, "but I'm just not a social person. Crowds make me anxious."

     "Anxious?"

     Perhaps it's because I've lived alone all my life. I've become used to my own company. If I came to this dance with you I wouldn't enjoy it. I'd be anxious and afraid and I'd make you miserable. You'd be better off going with someone else. Someone whose company you'd enjoy."

     She could hear the false tone in her voice, though. The truth was that she'd love a dance and she wasn't doing a very good job of hiding it. Sure enough, Dougal's face furrowed with worry. "Are you in some kind of trouble?" he asked.

     "What? No!"

     "Because if someone's got some kind of hold over you, if they're holding you prisoner here..."

     "No! Nothing like that. I live alone. I like living alone. I like being able to do whatever I want, anytime I want."

     "Anything except go to a dance."

     "And I don't like it when someone tries to pressure me into something." She put a little anger into her voice and stepped closer to him, glaring into his face.

     Dougal looked shocked and backed away. "I wasn't trying to pressure you. If you really don't want to go then that's the end of it."

     "I really don't want to go."

     "Okay. I'm sorry to have troubled you. I hope you have a nice life, all alone here in your nice little cottage."

     Guilt and misery washed over her. He was trying to be nice to her and she was treating him as though he'd done something awful. Was this really what she wanted? To grow old alone in this cottage until she became a hateful old crone no better than the one that was hunting her? But what choice did she have? If she wanted to survive, she had to hide, and if she was found out after she'd begun a relationship with Dougal he might be accused of sheltering her. He might be stoned to death right alongside her. She had to do this, she knew. She was protecting not just herself but him as well.

     She watched as he returned to his horse and cart, climbed into the saddle and slapped the reins to begin the journey back home. He didn't look back, but Tala couldn't drag herself away from the doorway until he'd turned a bend in the road and passed out of sight. Then she closed the door, the latch falling into place with a click, but instead of going back to her sewing she stood there for a long time in agonsed indecision, replaying the encounter in her mind while she wondered whether she'd done the right thing.