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tracing a lazy line along her brow. Anja found she had to look away from the intensity of his gaze. His soft laugh brought her gaze back to him, and she saw he was lost in a memory.
    “There was the evening Frau Köhler and Herr Becker stood in the street, arguing over missing pastries,” he said. “ Herr Becker, covered in flour and obviously seething, was loudly accusing Frau Köhler’s son of making off with several apfelkuchen, and he demanded recompense. Köhler screeched that her boy would never do such thing. I thought it might come to blows when you walked up and set them all to rights.” Tillz smiled at the memory. “I remember you so clearly, you wore a crimson gown that brought out the red in your hair.” Tillz fingered a lock of Anja’s hair, and she wondered that he should remember such details. “Becker and Köhler were menacing each other, so loud and red-faced, and Frau Köhler’s boy cowered in her skirts. And up you walked so calm and reasonable. You pointed out the stray cur slinking out of Becker’s bakery at that very moment, bread loaf clutched in its greedy jaws. In minutes, you had the two apologizing to each other, and even convinced old Becker to give a pastry to the Köhler boy for scaring him so.”
    “You seem to know so much of what goes on in the village, yet no one knows you,” Anja said. She was embarrassed that he had seen her, that he had studied her so closely and committed so much about her to memory.
    Tillz shrugged. “I do not wish to be seen by the people in the village. I prefer to keep to myself. But that does not mean I do not see all of you.”
    “But how? How does a man such as yourself move so freely about the village without anyone discovering who you are? It seems so…” Anja trailed off, not sure how to describe it.
    Tillz seemed to sense her unease. “I assure you, there is nothing sinister about me. I merely keep to myself. I come to the village at dusk usually and keep to the shadows, taking care not to draw attention to myself. And I know about others only because I do what so few people manage to do: I notice every detail around me because I look . I see nothing that anyone who took care to notice couldn’t see. So many people fail to ever look beyond themselves. They see only what they wish to, what is safe and comfortable and familiar. I try to look beyond that, and I have come to know things about many of the villagers just from being observant. I know who is loud and boisterous, who is quiet and reserved, who gets mean with drink and who cheats at cards, and I know who is intelligent and kind and caring.” Tillz rested a hand on Anja’s shoulder at the last statement, and she knew Tillz was talking about her.
    “Tonight, I heard men talking in the tavern, saying that Werner had taken you,” he said, and the slightest ripple of violence went through him, “and I knew I must help you. I could not leave you here, alone, unable to make the gold that bastard is demanding.”
    “So you came to offer me yours. You came to help me, even though we have never spoken, even though you would rather not have anything to do with any of the villagers,” Anja said.
    “Yes, I came to help you,” he said simply. “I couldn’t not.” He tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Though I would not say I want nothing to do with any of the villagers.”
    Some of the mystery surrounding this man lessened, if only just a bit. He was enigmatic and stoic, yes, but he was also compassionate and generous. He was willing to help her, even though it cost him gold and the solitude he so obviously cherished.
    She wondered what more there was to discover about him.
    They talked for several more hours, sitting side by side on the rug in front of the fire. Tillz moved a few times to add another log to the flames, and when he saw Anja shiver from the cold in the drafty cottage, he took a quilt from the bed to cover her. His arms encircled her as he wrapped it around her,