The crowd from the inn followed Noddak outside. A voice called out, “Stop him! Don’t let him get away!” Another voice said, “He’s not going to get far.” A third announced, “He’s going the wrong direction, anyway.”
Noddak ignored them and trudged inland through the dense woods. For all he knew, they were deliberately trying to mislead him. He wasn’t worried—how hard could it be to find one little Torph family on this dinky island? The sun had already set—soon it would be too dark to walk safely in the woods. He stopped to rest at an isolated barn on the edge of a large field of newly mown hay. It was an old barn, a storage place for bales of hay. He made himself a sort of cushion out of some loose straw, then slumped onto it. His fever and exhaustion overtook him.
He awoke to the sound of rain on the roof punctuated by crashing thunder. He had no idea how long he’d been asleep, but it was still dark outside. Certainly, it was too dark and too wet to resume his search. He fell asleep again.
When he woke up, the sunlight was streaming in through the barn windows. The air smelled clean and fresh and filled with the aroma of sweet hay. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of the sunlight drying his damp clothes.
The sound of approaching footsteps brought him fully awake in an instant. He scrambled to his feet, faded behind a stack of hay bales, and loosened his sword in its scabbard. The footsteps rounded the corner of the old barn, stopped briefly, then came in through the big, open main door.
A little girl in a yellow dress, carrying a small basket, entered the barn, looked around, then walked straight up to where Noddak was hiding. “Hello, Mister. Did you have a good sleep? I’m looking for eggs for our breakfast. Did you happen to notice where the chickens are roosting this morning?” She climbed a wooden ladder to the barn’s loft and rummaged around in the straw. “Found one!” And after a little while, “Found two more! One more and we can have eggs for breakfast. Ah, here it is! That makes four, which is plenty. Would you care to join us?” She clambered down the ladder and showed her prizes to the astounded Noddak.
“Who’s ‘us’?” Noddak asked. “And who are you?”
“Gleesa. I’m Luddor’s niece. You know, Luddor, the blacksmith? The big guy you poked with the sword last night.” She giggled. “That was pretty funny! He didn’t really think you’d do it. Guess you showed him!”
“I guess I did. Aren’t you afraid I’m going to poke you?”
“No, silly! Why would you poke me? I’m about to feed you some nice, fresh scrambled eggs. With toast and jam. Homemade jam. Blackberry. Do you like blackberries?”
“Er, well, yes—yes I do.”
“Come on then. Let’s go up to the house.”
Noddak followed Gleesa along a narrow footpath through the woods. His fever, if he’d really had one, was gone, along with the ache in his joints. In fact, he was feeling rather good. He smiled at the sound of a woodpecker hard at work.
Gleesa’s small log cabin lay snugly nestled in a little clearing not too far away. The pleasing scent of the wood smoke rising from the stone chimney awakened his appetite. Inside, a larger version of Gleesa was cooking sausages in a cast-iron pan on an old wood stove. “Come in, take a seat at the table. Breakfast will be ready shortly.”