Defying Destiny (8 page)

“How large is your village?” she

asked.

Nash hesitated. “There are a little

under seventy families,” he said. “Over

three hundred men, women and children.”

“That many?”

He

nodded,

seeming

distracted.

Carsha raced back to Nash’s cabin with a

dozen additional children in tow. They

were all smiling in anticipation of Nash’s

usual antics, but they paused when they

noticed Maralee sitting on the step.

“She doesn’t have her sword,” Carsha

informed them. All eyes moved to

Maralee’s hip, which was indeed devoid

of weapon.

Nash

patted

Maralee’s

hand

encouragingly and stood up. “So what

shall we play this afternoon?”

The children looked at him and then

back at Maralee.

“I know,” Carsha said, jumping up and

down. “We’ll play ogre.”

“Ogre?” Nash questioned.

“She’ll be the ogre,” Carsha said,

pointing at Maralee with a theatrical flair.

“She’ll capture us and put us in the

dungeon so she can eat us. The dungeon

will be Uncle Nash’s porch, and you’ll be

the hero, Uncle Nash. You have to rescue

us and take us to your castle at the hickory

stump.” She pointed to the stump across a

small clearing in front of Nash’s cabin.

“I like being the hero,” Nash said,

grinning. “You’re the ugly ogre,” he said

to Maralee, glancing down at her with a

teasing smile.

Maralee felt awkward, and decided

Carsha had made her the ogre for a

reason, but she hated that the children

were so leery of her. Maybe if she played

their game admirably, they would trust

her, maybe even like her the way they so

obviously liked Nash.

“If I capture you, you have to stay in

the dungeon,” Maralee told them, hopping

off the step to her feet. “I need someone to

guard my dungeon and keep the hero from

rescuing my dinner.”

The children glanced around at each

other, and then one of the older boys, an

adolescent in his gangly years, said, “I’ll

be the guard.”

“Your name?” Maralee asked.

He glanced at Nash nervously, and

then whispered, “Dart.”

“Okay, Dart’s my guard. Don’t let

Nash take my prisoners.”

“I won’t,” Dart vowed, holding

Maralee’s gaze for a scant second before

taking his place in front of the porch

dungeon.

“Who shall I eat first?” Maralee

yelled.

Screaming children scattered in all

directions.

Maralee grabbed the nearest child, and

the small boy cried, “Help! Help! The

ogre’s got me.”

She set the boy on Nash’s porch and

went after another child while Dart tried

to keep Nash from saving her first victim.

It didn’t take long for Maralee to get into

their game.

“I’m going to eat you!” she shouted in

her most monstrous voice as she chased

the children around the cabin, catching

them with maximal effort and hauling them

back to the porch. They were fast little

buggers.

Nash put on quite a show as he

rescued each child, sometimes allowing

Dart to tackle him to the ground to

increase the suspense. The captured

children were jumping up and down on the

porch chorusing, “Save me, Nash! Save

me!”

When Maralee captured the last child,

most of the children were huddled around

the hickory stump, cheering on the hero.

She was exhausted when she heaved

Carsha up on the porch. Dart was

sprawled on the ground, gasping for air.

Nash had taken to stealing her prisoners

two at a time.

“Hey!” Maralee called to him.

“How’s an ogre supposed to get anything

to eat around here?”

He laughed, setting two children down

by the stump and turning to retrieve the

last few still on the porch. “There will be

no children for your supper as long as the

heroic knight of the castle is here.”

“So you’ve knighted yourself, have

you?” Maralee challenged.

He made a go for the porch and she

tackled him around the waist, bringing him

down easily as he gave very little

resistance. “Help!” he called, stifling his

laughter as Maralee pinned him to the

ground. “The big, ugly…smelly, foul…

vile, disgusting, grotesque,
old
ogre has

got me.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe

I’ll have hero for supper tonight.”

“Get the ogre! Save Uncle Nash!”

Carsha yelled and all thirteen of the

children rushed forward, piling on top of

them, squashing Nash flat on the bottom of

their mound of small bodies.

“You’ve turned your hero into

mincemeat,” Nash said, struggling to draw

breath beneath the weight piled on him.

“Ogres

don’t

like

mincemeat,”

Maralee complained, pressed flat between

Nash and the children. “I give up. I won’t

eat children anymore.”

“And no mincemeat either?” Carsha

asked, giggling as she tumbled down the

mound of people she climbed.

“No, never mincemeat,” Maralee

gasped, her lungs protesting.

“The ogre starved to death. The hero

wins,” Nash said. “Now everybody off!”

The children climbed off the pile one-

by-one. Maralee could only concentrate

on her awareness of Nash’s hard body

pressed against hers.

“An ogre could acquire a taste for

mincemeat,” Maralee murmured close to

Nash’s ear.

He stiffened, and then chuckled.

“Mincemeat could acquire a taste for

ogres.” When the final child climbed from

Maralee’s back, he gasped, “I think I

broke a rib.”

Maralee rolled off him. He struggled

to rise, clutching his side and then helped

her to her feet. The brush of his fingertips

against the inside of her wrist left her

breathless.

“Let’s play again!” Carsha cried,

jumping up and down in her excitement.

Nash released Maralee’s hand and

they exchanged weary glances. “You kids

play. You’ve worn us adults out,” he said.

The

children

groaned

with

disappointment and Maralee smiled at

Nash before turning her attention to the

children.

“I’ll play,” Maralee said, “but only if I

get to be the hero this time. Nash can be

the big, ugly, smelly, foul, vile, disgusting,

grotesque,
old
ogre.”

“But you are so much better suited to

the part,” he teased.

Maralee’s mouth fell open with

indignation. “You’ll pay for that, Ogre,”

she said. “You don’t get a guard.”

“Don’t need one. I can catch children

for my supper and keep heroes at bay at

the same time.”

“We’ll see.”

Nash chuckled. “Are you all ready to

get eaten?” he asked the children. They

screamed and scattered again.

Nash somehow managed to catch three

children at once. He was as sure-footed

and swift as they were. He scooped them

all up into his arms and set them on the

porch. They all made Maralee feel clumsy

and slow.

“Help us, Hero! The ogre’s going to

eat us,” they chimed.

Maralee made a run for the porch, but

just as she was about to rescue the first

child from the dungeon, Nash caught her

around the waist and lifted her into his

arms.

“I’ve captured your hero already,” he

said, triumphantly. “What are you going to

do now?”

“Save the hero! Save the hero!”

Carsha chanted, grabbing one of Nash’s

legs and trying to trip him.

He stumbled and nearly lost his grip

on Maralee before he recovered his

balance.

“Don’t drop me,” Maralee squeaked,

and wrapped both arms around his neck.

He had several children pulling on

each leg now, as he walked around the

area, growling like a professional ogre,

dragging the kids around as if they were

no more than pesky flies. They were all

laughing as they tried to bring the ogre

down, but none harder than Maralee who

was won over by the lot of them.

“Children!” a voice echoed through

the forest. “Time to come home now!”

“Already?” several complained.

They released their hold on Nash, and

he set Maralee on her feet. The children

began to disappear into their homes,

waving farewells as they went inside.

Carsha was the last to leave.

“Can we play again tomorrow, Uncle

Nash?” she asked, looking up at him with

undisguised adulation.

“Of course,” he said, tousling her dark

gray hair.

“And Maralee, too?” Carsha asked,

glancing at the young woman standing

beside her uncle.

“You’ll have to ask her.”

Carsha took Maralee’s hand in both of

her small ones. “Will you come and play

with us tomorrow?”

“I don’t think I’ll be here tomorrow. I

need to go back to the village tonight.”

“Why?” the child asked.

“Well, I don’t have a place to stay,

and—”

“You can stay with Uncle Nash. Can’t

she?” Carsha gave Nash a stern look.

“Of course, she can.”

“It wouldn’t be proper,” Maralee said,

even though she really wanted to spend

more time with him. Alone. In his cabin.

In his bed of furs.

“Why not?” Nash asked, his brows

drawn together in confusion.

“Stay, Maralee. Please! I want to play

some more. You can be my friend.”

“I’d like that,” Maralee said, warmth

spreading through her chest. “I had a lot of

fun.”

Carsha smiled. “Me too!” she chimed

and ran off in the direction of her house.

She waved enthusiastically from the porch

and went inside.

“Had fun, did you?” Nash asked.

Maralee smiled and nodded. “I did.”

His answering smile had her pulse in a

frenzy. “I’m glad,” he said. “And you’re

staying until morning?”

Her heart thundered in her chest. “I…

yes, I’m staying.”

He smiled and placed a hand on the

small of her back to guide her back into

his cabin.

Once inside, Maralee rubbed her

hands over her upper arms, trying to

regain warmth. She hadn’t noticed how

chilled she’d become while playing

outside.

“You’re cold,” Nash assessed. “I’ll

get the fire going again.”

She smiled gratefully. “Do you have a

bathroom?”

He actually blushed and avoided her

gaze. “The forest outside.”

She nodded. She was used to roughing

it. Going to the bathroom outside didn’t

bother her in the least. “I’ll be back in a

few minutes.”

He watched her go to the door. “I’ll

come with you,” he said.

“You don’t trust me?”

“I…it’s not that. It’s getting dark.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, “and I

promise I won’t run away. You still have

my sword. I’m not leaving here without

it.”

He hesitated, but nodded finally. “I’ll

see what I can find for supper then.”

She smiled. “Great. I’m famished.”

Twilight already marked the close of

the short winter day. Maralee left the

cabin and skirted to the back of the

structure for privacy. She glanced around

to ensure no one was watching and untied

the laces at the fly of her pants. Shivering

with cold, she wished she’d remembered

to put on her cloak before venturing

outside. Once she had finished relieving

herself, she readjusted her clothing and

headed back for the cabin, looking

forward to the warmth of the fire. She

found her progress hindered, however, by

three enormous, snarling Wolves.

Maralee’s hand moved automatically to

the sword hilt at her belt and found

nothing but empty space. The center Wolf

—a

large,

dark

brown

creature—

advanced

on

her,

baring

sharp,

carnivorous fangs. He growled and barked

at her until she backed away. The cabin

appeared against her back. Trapped and

unarmed, she had no chance of survival.