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blushing?”  He went right for my jugular.
    I growled at him. “You would,” I headed back across the field toward the sidewalk.
    “What?  It’s an honest question!” he exclaimed.
    I smirked. “Just give me a minute. It’s hard to explain,” I told him cheekily. We started up on the sidewalk again. “I can feel my blush start because I feel hot and sweaty. It’s unpleasant because I have no control over it whatsoever. It’s like advertising to the whole world that I’m feeling embarrassed. In the animal kingdom, it would probably precede my imminent death,” I let my breath out with a whoosh, feeling glad to get that answer out of the way. I looked at him, curious what he would think of it.
    He frowned. “That could definitely be a problem,” was all he said.
    I perked up. I had one more question. I chewed on my lower lip trying to think of a really good one. Although, he could hardly top the display at the playground. His performance pretty much made my month. I could see reliving his exercise regimen in my mind over and over again. His muscles positively danced beneath his skin as he moved and flexed with his Misrillet. What language was that?  That could be my question. I opened my mouth to ask, when a black blur wavered across my peripheral vision.
    We both looked to the right, by the houses. I told myself it was probably a cat, except I felt a prickle of inexplicable terror wash through me. And cats were a good deal smaller than the blur I spied. It was more like the size of a bear, but that was patently ridiculous.
    Before I could react, he placed himself between me and the houses and yards. “It’s okay,” I said. “Probably just a cat,” An enormously huge black cat?  I thought to myself.
    He ignored my statement. Instead, he assumed a ready stance. He gestured for me to be still, and he peered at the dark spaces inside of bushes and behind garbage bins. Another streak of black startled out of a bush, knocked over a trash bin with a clatter, and disappeared again behind someone’s shed. It was way, way, too big to be a cat.
    No. This was my small town in which nothing of note ever happened. It had to be something harmless. Like a big dog, for example.
    Belying my denial, William put his bulk between me and the shed, not even letting me look around his shoulder at the phantom.
    My heart had begun racing as soon as I first saw the dark image, and it only sped up as I noticed William’s demeanor. His somewhat light mood had sobered considerably, and I thought I heard him growl once. Frankly, he was putting me more on edge than I thought was necessary considering it was just a... I licked my lips. A super big dog?   Or maybe the Dinkle’s dog that had the annoying habit of breaking away from his chain about every three weeks and digging in people’s trash cans?   Uncertainty mixed with bile in my belly. I was offically weirded out.
    We stood like that for a good ten minutes, his body forming a protective wall between some unseen and uncomfirmed danger and myself.
    I couldn’t explain it, but I felt compelled to be silent, though my heart thundered loudly in my chest and my blood ran with torrential force in my ears. I didn’t really think it was a cat, did I?  Or the Dinkle’s dog.
    Something about watching William’s exercise regimen had me trusting his instincts. If he told me to stay put, then I was staying put. Gradually my heart slowed, particularly since there was no longer any sign of what we had spied earlier.
    Nothing else happened, and he relaxed. We started walking again. If he was embarrassed for overreacting, he didn’t show it. I decided not to bring it up, either. Dumb dog.
     

9
    Zarastrid’s Log Day 95
    Year of Our Loch 107
    I asked Agnes how she was feeling. She sat with her back to me in the spacious cell. I stood, waiting for her to invite me to sit. We were used to our little ceremonies, pretending perhaps, that she was in a castle solar, and I a noble knight