Luckily the valise was small enough that when held between the two of them was hidden in the volume of her skirts, Caroleen thought as they graciously left the inn. Ivan had slowed them to a casual pace, holding her close as if they were two lovers loathe to be parted. Outside, Caroleen frowned when she saw the wagon was nowhere to be seen. Ivan moved in a maddeningly slow pace down the path toward the woods, but once they were hidden by the trees, he broke loose. Pulling her along by the hand, he threaded their way through the trees. After what seemed like a long time, they came out amid some barren crags close to a road.<br/><br/>Caroleen was out of breath and grateful for a rest stop but Ivan disappeared into the rocks. Soon, though, he came back driving the horses. She waited for it to stop and climbed over the wheel.<br/><br/>“I don’t think this is the picnic spot you mentioned to the innkeeper.” She said succinctly.  Ivan just kept his eyes on the road, chirruping to the horses. The sun was sinking in the west and darkness was descending once more. Caroleen breathed out a sigh of relief.<br/><br/>“So we are putting distance between us and that cursed village. Even the children there speak of walking dead and killing them.” She remarked, hugging her body. “ I have heard those kinds of stories told around campfires and everyone laughing as they tried to scare their listeners. But Ivan,” she said, softly, putting her hand on his arm. “ I realized I was one of them. I’m not evil and you are not evil. Those people are scared because they don’t understand. To be different is to be hated. What some people call magic is simply science they do not understand. I guess there is much the priests don’t understand. If that is blasphemy to say as such, well, I think now there is not heaven or hell as they preach it. I don’t understand it all but I am only  a woman.”<br/><br/>The voice in her head whined, “Ask Ivan is he likes the scent.”<br/><br/>Caroleen ignored it and continued trying to have a conversation with this taciturn man. He wasn’t so different than her Gustav who was always consumed with pounding on his anvil, except Ivan’s anvil seemed to be his purpose rather than metal.<br/><br/>“Ask Ivan is he likes the scent!” the voice whined louder.<br/><br/>“Ivan,” Caroleen said, her tone was different, almost like that of an indulgent mother, “Teresa wants to know if you like the scent I am wearing. She picked it out in market today.”<br/><br/>She wasn’t quite ready for his reaction.