Natalya shook her head, regret lingering in her heart. Slavica was the kind of woman that made her ache to be part of a family and community. «Thank you, Slavica, but I have protection.» She pulled the cross hanging on the thin silver chain from where it was hidden beneath her shirt. «I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine.»
Slavica started to protest, but stopped herself, pressing her lips together firmly. She simply shook her head.
«I know what I'm doing,» Natalya assured her. «I'm going to slip out through the kitchen if you don't mind. I've got food and drink enough for several days and I'll be back in the middle of next week if not sooner.»
Slavica walked with her through the dining room. Natalya risked another glance at the man sitting at the bar talking to Mirko. He seemed absorbed in the conversation, but she didn't trust him. He had shown interest in her and it wasn't the interest of a man looking for a woman. She had no idea what it was, but she wasn't going to take any chances. She gave a small nod toward the man. «Who is he? I haven't seen him in here before.»
«He travels through this way many times on business.» Slavica's expression gave nothing away. «He's very quiet and I don't know what his business is.»
«Is he married?»
The innkeeper looked alarmed. «This man is not for you, Natalya. He is welcome here as all travelers are, but he is not for you.»
Natalya didn't dare risk another glance in the man's direction. He was far too observant and she didn't want to draw his attention. She walked through the dining room into the small kitchen. There was the inevitable sheep's cheese and baskets of potatoes. «Don't worry, I'm not looking for a man.»
«I have seen the yearning on your face and in your eyes when you look at children. When you see married couples,» Slavica said gently. «You wish for a family of your own.»
Natalya shrugged carelessly, avoiding the other woman's gaze, not wanting to see the compassion she knew would be there. Was she becoming that obvious? When had it
become so difficult for her to hide her feelings beneath her carefully cultivated «flip» personality? «I like traveling. I wouldn't want to be tied down.» It was a blatant lie and for the first time in her life, she knew she had given herself away.
«It is natural to want a family and a man for yourself. I waited to find the right one,» Slavica counseled. «Even when my parents and neighbors thought I was too old and would never find him, I thought it better to wait than to make a mistake and tie myself to someone I didn't want to spend my life with. I waited for Mirko and it was the right thing to do. We have a beautiful daughter and this place and that is enough. We're happy together. You understand, Natalya? Don't give yourself away to just any man because you think time is running out.»
Natalya nodded solemnly. «I understand and agree completely. I'm not feeling desperate to find a man, far from it. I'll see you soon.» She pushed open the kitchen door, gave a cheery wave toward the frowning innkeeper and hurried out into the night.
After the warmth of the inn, the air outside was cold, but she was prepared for that. She walked briskly along the narrow road leading toward the mountain trail. An empty horse cart passed her and she called out asking for a ride. The farmer hesitated and then stopped for her. Natalya caught up the hem of her skirt and ran to catch up before he could change his mind. Most of the locals used the horse carts rather than cars. They were simple vehicles, a wagon on tires pulled by one or two horses. They were used for everything from transportation to hauling great sheafs of hay.
«Thank you, sir,» she said as she tossed in her walking stick and climbed aboard. She settled herself toward the back of the cart, not wanting to make the farmer more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be hauling a strange woman around.
To her surprise he spoke. Most of the older married men were quite reserved around younger, single women. «What are you doing out this late? The sun has gone down.» He glanced nervously around him.
«Yes it has,» she agreed, avoiding the question. «You're out late as well.»
«It isn't good,» he said. «Not this night.» He kept his voice very low. The concern in his tone was unmistakable. «Better you should allow my wife and I to put you up for the night. Or I could take you to the inn.» He was looking up at the moon, at the clouds swirling over it, partially blocking the light and it was clear he didn't want to turn back. He shook the reins to speed the horse up.
Natalya glanced up at the sky and the boiling clouds that had not been there minutes before. The heavy mist obscuring the top of the mountains spread like bony fingers, reaching up toward the moon and lower for the forest. Lightning edged the mist in golden arcs. Thunder rumbled in the distance, centered mainly over the mountain.
She slid her hand inside her fur vest and touched the handle of her gun. «The weather
changed fast this evening.» And it wasn't natural.
«It happens that way in the mountains,» the farmer said, clucking at the horse with urgency. «It's best to take cover until things settle down.»
Natalya didn't reply. She had to get to the top of the mountain. Had spies let her enemies know she was close? Were they waiting for her? She turned her attention to the countryside passing by so quickly. Was there movement in the shadows? If so, she had to lead trouble away from the farmer. They had traveled far past the perimeters of the village and well out into the rolling hills where farms dotted the landscape.
She stayed alert, watching for signs of an impending attack, her senses flaring out into the night, reaching for information. She inhaled, taking the night air deep into her lungs, working to unravel the stories the wind brought her. The wind carried the stench of evil. The whisper of movement in the forest. The scent of wolves, restless beneath the moon. Her chin lifted. So be it. She didn't go looking for fights. She was, in fact, usually the first to walk away, but she was tired of being pursued, of looking over her shoulder every minute of every day. If they wanted to fight, she had come prepared, because this time she wasn't going to turn away.
The fanner pulled the cart onto a narrow lane. The horse slowed to make the sharp turn and Natalya jumped off, waving at the farmer as she hurried away. He called out to her, but she kept going, walking briskly up the hillside toward the timberline.
The moment she was certain she was out of the farmer's sight, she stripped off the brightly colored skirt and blouse, folding them along with the scarf and tucking them into her backpack. The double Amis sticks went into loops at the back of her belt for easy retrieval. Her entire demeanor changed as she gripped the familiar walking stick. She strode with tremendous confidence, weaving in and out of the hay sheaves until she was clear of the farms. A walking path led up the mountain, a trail for goats, not humans, but she took it because it was the most direct approach.
She crossed through a field of alpine flowers, the blossoms everywhere as she pushed through the high grasses toward the slope of timber. The moon was almost completely hidden by the darkening clouds, and the closer she got to the forest, the louder the thunder boomed. Flowers and grass gave way to bushes and scrub. Large boulders dotted the slope. A few heartier flowers had managed to find their way into the crevices. The trees were small and very scraggly, but as she wound her way through two more switchbacks, the vegetation changed completely, growing fuller and taller.