The Wild In Her Eyes - A first look!

....By morning, she’d traveled miles from home. How many, she couldn’t say for sure, but she’d kept moving until the orange glow of dawn began to creep up along the horizon. Only when she knew for certain day was upon her did she finally allow her body to rest. Curled up along the curve of a fallen tree trunk, she slept nestled in the leaves and soft moss, hidden away behind the brush and overgrowth that had long ago welcomed their fallen friend back home to the earth from which they’d all grown.

When she awoke, the sun sat high in the sky and the growl of her own stomach reminded her how many hours had passed since her last meal. Even as her hollow insides whined in discomfort, her appetite remained absent. Still, she knew she’d need her strength. And so, her body sore and weak, she began to search for viable sustenance. It took some time and foraging, but the forest supplied well, offering up a fair share of wild blackberries and a handful of mushrooms she recognized from hikes with her father. Those adventures with him seemed an eternity ago now. On the rare occasion he’d been in town to do so, they’d spend the day exploring the woods behind their home, wandering together, basking in the midday sun, and enjoying whatever treats they’d stumbled upon on their walk. Her father had always been good at finding treasured morsels among the weeds and forest debris. His years of travel had taught him much, and so he’d seen to it that she too learned to tell the poison from the berry, the edible from the deadly. It had been all in good fun once upon a time. Now she could hardly bear the pain of dwelling on the memories beyond the details she needed to remember to survive.

Before long, her stomach quieted and she returned to her journey, following paths walked only by hooves and padded paws before her.

She navigated by the sun during the day and let the stars guide her at night, slept and ate only when her body demanded it, and kept far from the bounds of civilization. As the days passed, her blistered feet became bruised and bloody. She left rusty red marks in the dirt with her every step, the evidence of her pain oozing through the holes in her battered shoes. All but one of her fingernails had ripped off at the nailbed—nine casualties of clawing her way through the wild terrain and fending for food and building fires on the coldest nights. Keeping to the woods had sheltered her from rain and sun, but it had done little to preserve her overall appearance. Her dress was filthy and torn. The exposed parts of her body had suffered cuts and scrapes after repeated lashings from wayward tree limbs and debris, which was carried on a whipping wind that left her cheeks and lips burned and raw.

She tripped on a long, knobby root of an ancient oak and let out a hoarse yelp from falling face first and realized the absence of her voice. Startled, she touched her throat. The rough calluses from her own hand against her tender skin caught her off guard a second time. She didn’t recognize her own body anymore. Slowly, she climbed back to her feet and steadied herself against the tree whose roots had thwarted her.

There, standing tall and staring blankly at the horizon, her new body and reborn spirit glimpsed their new fate. The silence of the woods, which had been like an invisible veil keeping her secluded during her journey, lifted. Beyond the trees lay a vast, green valley. And it was filled with life, human life. She relished the buzzing of voices and bodies hard at work. She looked closer. The people she saw below were members of a traveling circus.

She’d heard stories, of course, about the freaks who ran with the circus. Scoundrels always on the hunt for their next schemes. Shameless women willing to do depraved things too lurid to even contemplate. Tales of two-headed men and bearded ladies, creatures so deformed and unnatural that the devil himself had a hand in creating them. These stories had been meant to scare her away, to encourage her to keep her distance from the likes of those who sought out the open road, the shows, the tents, and the paths that led from sordid pasts to torrid futures. The tales had always worked, but none quite as well as that of the one-eyed man her mother had called the Human Snake, who hypnotized his audience into submission, leaving them in his control forever after, none of them ever the wiser of the terrible acts he had them perform while in their trance.

Fear of the unknown had held her curiosities at bay. But now the unknown was all she had, and it would take more than scary stories to frighten her away after all she’d experienced. Besides, she couldn’t help but notice that the circus people were laughing and working together. Some were even singing! She failed to sense any wickedness, especially after she’d learned that real beasts could hide in her own home. It was unlikely, she decided, that truly evil people would display their traits for the world to marvel at—and charge an entry fee to do so.

Her feet moved ever faster as she gained momentum down the hill, her only focus on reaching the circus camp. Beyond that, she had few plans and nothing to offer. No one seemed to take notice, at first, of the stranger in their midst. Then, one by one, eyes strayed from their tasks and toward her. Motions grew slower, conversations stopped, and the quiet slowly set in. Her footsteps, thudding over grass and gravel, grew louder with each step. She squared her shoulders and lifted the crown of her head skyward as she felt the heat of a hundred stares following her every move. Still, she remained focused, staring straight ahead at her goal: the carriage, nearest the engine, flagged with the brightest red banner and marked in bold yellow lettering. Brooks and Bennet Circus—Come One, Come All.

She was inches from reaching for the handle when the door swung open, seemingly of its own accord, and a rail-thin man nearly seven feet tall strolled out. “What the blazes has got you all tongue-tied all of a sudden? I can hear your peace and quiet all the way in here!” He laughed to himself, then stopped when he spotted her. “Oh. I see.” For the first time in her life she had to wonder what, exactly, he was looking at as he stood before her, his head tilting sideways toward his slumped left shoulder to get a better angle.

Any other time, she’d have known exactly what he was looking at. Golden hair pinned up in the front, with long, tight curls flowing down her back. Naturally rosy cheeks highlighting a flawless complexion and bright green eyes sparkling under the sunlight. Her whole life she’d never left her room unless she was impeccably dressed. This was most certainly not the case today as she stood there in her housekeeper’s rags. Nevertheless, she held her head high and waited patiently while the man assessed her. His tan skin bore scars all around his arms, visible where the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up. His clothes fit awkwardly due to his height, and the only item that looked entirely in place was the blue linen cap he wore. It hid what was left of his graying hair. Laugh lines were well worn into his leathery skin. The silver shadow of hair reaching around his mouth and down his neck, proof he hadn’t shaved in at least a day or two, wasn’t able to hide how his thin mouth twitched at the corners, always threatening to break into a smile.

Then, a sadness darkened his narrow blue eyes as he reached one lanky arm up to stroke his stubbled jaw. “You have a name then, love?” he asked with a tenderness that surprised her.

She cleared her throat, remembering the absence of her voice. It took several attempts, but she found the words she needed. Her answer rattled on a long, desperate breath she feared would suffocate her if she didn’t release it.

“Annis, sir. Annis Josephine Watson.”

She breathed in. Her chest felt light. Her heart beat steadily. And just like that, five simple words had brought her back to life.

Chapter Two

COME ONE COME ALL

 “I need a job, sir,” Annis said, her voice getting stronger with every syllable.

“I imagine you do,” he said, nodding at her pitiful appearance. “Imagine you could also do with a bit of water.” He pulled the canteen he wore strapped over his left shoulder up over his head and handed it to her. “Go on then, have it,” he insisted when she didn’t take it. “Only just refilled it, so there’s plenty.”

Annis was torn. She’d gone without a drink for so long, she hardly remembered what thirst felt like. Though she knew her body was desperate for fluids, her less rational thoughts forbade her from accepting such a gift so easily. Kindness aside, he was a stranger and her trust in people was sparse these days. Everyone had an agenda. No one gave anything for nothing. Not even water. Not when she so clearly needed it. It would be too easy to use against her later.

“I’m alright, thank you,” she said, pushing the canteen away. Maybe the days alone with her overwrought mind and terrorized thoughts had made her paranoid, but she couldn’t chance it. Anything she received from here on out, she would earn. There would be no risk of blackmail or unpaid debts left for someone to collect on. “I’m not looking for handouts. I want work.”

The man shook his head, his eyes narrowed as though he were attempting to sort out his own thoughts about her but was coming up short. “What you need is water. You take it, you see to yourself, and then we’ll talk about your wants, understood?”

Annis opened her mouth to argue a second time but was met with a silent warning in the man’s steely glare she understood she’d do well to heed.

“How much?” she asked, strength waning from her voice even as she set to strike her own terms for the exchange. Her mind, ever alert, took note of her body’s evident betrayal and cursed herself for her weakness. “For the water. How much will it cost?” She hadn’t a penny to her name, but at least the number would set her debt before she accumulated it.

“You’ve only just shown up and you’re already a right pain in my arse, you know that?” the man said with a snort, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and index finger, a move she knew all too well from her mother, who had never hesitated to let Annis know when she was cuing the next migraine with what she called Annis’s insipid conversations and foolish behavior. “We don’t charge for water here, love. It’s not the sort of business we’re in. You want to pay me, you come see the show. I’ll charge you any night of the week for that.”

“But,” her mouth hung open, her arguments running thin. With little left to counter with, she ran her tongue over her lower lip, stalling for time. She felt the sandpaper skin of her own mouth. Her hand went up to touch it, only to find it was not only rough and cracked, but dry as the desert in the midday sun. Not even her tongue held moisture anymore. At last, she surrendered to his offer, taking the canteen and moving it up to her lips without another word.

She drank. Cold water flooded her throat, awakening everything within, sending an icy rush through her chest and down to her belly. Gulp after gulp, the liquid moved through her. Within moments she’d emptied the entire canteen, leaving her more aware of her thirst than she’d been before even tasting a sip.

The man smiled oddly at her, reminding Annis of the way she used to peer at baby chicks when they first hatched out in the hen house. They were awkward and strange looking at first, but curious and sweet all the same. She couldn’t decide if she took offense to his expression or not. He took the canteen from her before she came to a conclusion either way. “We’ll get more. Just let it settle for a moment or it’ll turn your stomach.”

She nodded, wiping the spilled water from where it had dribbled down to her chin. “About the job,” she began again, determined to make a case for herself.

“You ever done any work like this?” he asked.

She began to say an adamant yes, but then reconsidered the lie. “I’ve performed.” She tried to hide her shaking hands by pulling the loose strands of hair away from her face and back over her shoulder. She regretted the move at once. The man raised his brows to meet the rim of his blue cap. The line of his mouth pulled in toward the center and stopped just short of a frown at the sight of her now fully exposed face, which she knew was likely covered in dirt and blood.

“How old are you?” he asked, his eyes narrow.

“Twenty, sir,” she said, swallowing. Though lying had never come easily to her, this wasn’t the first lie she’d told the man. Somehow the first one had come naturally. The words just came out of her mouth without forethought. Maybe they were my last remaining truth, she thought.

At last he smirked, lifting his brows and straightening his shoulders. “Well, we can pretend I believe that.” He chuckled softly. “Come along, then.” He gave her a nod and began to walk past her toward the workers who’d resumed their tasks. Some of them tended to animals, others flitted about with an abundance of props and costumes nearly flowing from their grasps as they flew past. The bulk of the crew carried on setting up the circus tent.

“Wait. Are you giving me a job?” she asked, almost afraid to believe her good fortune. “You’re letting me stay? Just like that?”

“It’s the circus, love. No one comes to stay except me and Babe, but you can come along for the ride as long as you wish and get off when you’ve had enough.” He glanced back at her over his shoulder, winking. “You say you’ve performed?”

“Yes. Yes, sir.” Her stride was half the length of his and her tired legs fought to keep his pace. “I’ve been a dancer from the time I was four, sir.” He stopped abruptly and Annis nearly collided with him. He turned to face her.

“Before this goes any further, we need to clear something up, love,” he said.

Annis braced herself for his next words. She knew it had been too easy. There would be strings attached to the job. Her mind began to race through all the despicable deeds she’d be forced to participate in. Thievery. Fraud. The imaginary list grew longer as she considered the ways in which one could be forced to collude in schemes of lawless greed and deceit.

“It’s Hugh,” he said, catching her completely off guard with the simplicity of his words. “Not sir. Not mister.” His tone was calm but stern, with a slight emphasis on the labels he eschewed. “Just Hugh. Or Poppy, when you get comfortable.” He tilted his head, brows furrowed, but his eyes still twinkled. “Are we clear?”

She nodded. And then she shook her head. She decided it was likely she was delirious from exhaustion, delusional from dehydration, and just plain slow from being starved, but she was also certain that nothing was clear. He was the ringmaster, was he not? Calling him “sir” seemed more appropriate, given his role, than simply Hugh or, God forbid, Poppy. “I’m sorry?” was all she could say.

“That car there,” he explained, pointing his long, bony finger to where they’d just met. “It’s got my name on it right along with Babe’s. Not because this is our business but because it’s our family. Our home.” He hunched down closer to her and spoke more softly. “We never set out to run a circus, love. We ran away, and the circus found us. Same as you. Same as everyone you see here. You want to work here, you’re welcome to any job that needs doing. You’ll have your cut of the night’s take every show you’re here for, same as everyone else. And we all get an equal share. Even me. Even Babe. And we don’t get called fussy things like sir. Or mister. Not me. Definitely not Babe.” Annis began to nod her head, still not fully comprehending this unexpected turn in her newfound salvation but eager to please in order to keep it.

“Alright, then,” he said, smiling. “Onward.” He turned, stretching his fist out to lead the way straight into the nearest huddle of people, who were all working together to string up the massive tarp of the tent and preparing to mount it over the poles that were already in place. Annis gaped at the sight of men and women of all ages and colors, working together as equals, tackling tasks she imagined must be done in complete unison.

“They’ll just be a minute,” Hugh said, glancing back and forth between her and the workers, amusement dancing in his eyes at her state of awe. And though her gaze stayed with the display before her, her mind engaged in a grand game of ping pong, thoughts flying back and forth between the men and women at work and the strange but kind man standing beside her. What must he be thinking of her and the pitiful state she was in, the obvious lies she had told? He had to have had some thoughts about those. And, given his clear skills of observation, they likely weren’t far off. Surely, he’d deduced she was a runaway. He probably wondered if she was hiding from the law. If so, what did he imagine her guilty of? Stealing? Most likely. How many crimes could she really have pursued successfully beyond petty theft? Nothing about her frail and bedraggled body suggested she was physically capable of causing harm to anything larger than a garden snake. Or what about arson? Maybe he thought her to be some sort of firebug. That could even have been the reason he’d let her stay. A knack for playing with flames would probably come in handy around the circus. Alas, the longer she entertained the notion, the more she reconsidered what he was truly looking at when he saw her. Long wispy hair, hardly suitable for being around open flames. Her pasty, pale skin now bore marks that could only imply a massacre of sorts had taken place. But even underneath the dried blood and layers of dirt, the softness of her skin still gave evidence of a girl who, until quite recently, had never suffered more than a needle prick, let alone a burn.

More obvious than anything else, she thought, was her cowardice. The meek way in which she carried herself, light footed and hesitant in her every move. If she was perfectly honest with herself, Annis knew no one would ever count her as a scoundrel. She was running, certainly, but not because she’d sought out trouble. That the trouble had sought her would be clear to anyone.

She dared a sideways glance in Hugh’s direction. He was polite enough to pretend not to notice, even if the slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away. Whatever he thought of her, it couldn’t be all bad. More importantly, she was starting to think all the bad she’d thought about him, and the likes of those who found themselves drawn to the circus, couldn’t be all true either. If there was even a kernel of truth to any of it at all. Her gaze shifted back toward the scene unfolding before her and she finally registered what Hugh had said.

“Just a minute,” she echoed his last words dryly, her mind still stuck somewhere between disbelief and a growing acceptance that anything was possible as she took in the scene before her. “Who am I to doubt anything?” Annis wondered to herself. As if on cue, the tent rose from the ground on someone’s count of three and began to glide smoothly over its skeleton of poles and beams. Within a matter of moments, the entire structure was secure and Annis was standing in front of a magnificent display of bright red and yellow stripes. Thick golden trim marked the seams of the canvas and matching tassels dangled at each point of the structure. Scarlet flags marked the highest peaks, each flapping in the breeze.

“Wow,” she breathed. She hadn’t yet noticed the crowd forming around her, composed of people eager to meet the newcomer.

“Annis,” Hugh said. When she didn’t react, he said it a second time. “Annis?”

This time she registered the sound of her name and her cheeks reddened. “Oh.” Now that she was facing everyone, she saw just how much the differences between them spanned the spectrum. Men and women, young and old. Some freakishly tall, others surprisingly small. Women with short hair. Men with long. Large men. Some made up of muscle, some not. The only thing they all had in common was that there was something entirely unexpected in each of them.

Whether he was unaware of her momentary shock or had expected such a reaction, Hugh never let on. He simply carried on as though everything were normal. Perhaps such a scene would be less surprising to young women who had led less sheltered lives.

Nodding to his left at the person nearest to him, Hugh began, “Annis, this is Babe. She’s the Bennet of Brooks and Bennet Circus.” Hugh grinned and reached out to embrace a stout, jolly looking man with a massive beard and long curly, blond hair that was tied together in a loose, thick braid draped over his shoulder. Babe wore flowing garments that resembled a dress and reached his ankles. He took Annis’s hand and curtsied. “Annis, you adorable tulip. I just want to hug and kiss you. May I?”

“Oh, okay,” Annis said as Babe squeezed her into a rib-crushing hug that brought her to tears—not from pain, but from the emotional overwhelm at the display of such affection from a complete stranger.

“You’ll be safe here, Tulip,” Babe whispered, cheek pressed to her ear. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Babe’ll get you washed up and patched up in no time,” he promised in a voice that sounded neither masculine nor feminine, and which Annis could only describe as maternal.

She sighed, melting into the tight embrace, and allowed herself just a moment of peace before untangling herself from his welcoming arms. “Thank you,” Annis mumbled as she stepped back.

“I know Babe will be fussing over you just as soon as she gets you out of here,” Annis heard a woman’s voice say from somewhere in the center of the crowd that now formed a nearly complete circle around where she stood. Annis was too focused on Babe being referred to as she to identify the speaker right away. When she did, she noticed the woman was older than Hugh and Babe, with smooth dark skin that reminded Annis of her father’s morning coffee. The woman wore her black hair in tight twists that snaked the sides of her head until they met to form a knotted bun. Never had Annis met a woman who commanded such presence. She spoke in a rough, brash voice, with both hands fisted and set high on her waist. “When she sets you free, you come find Momma T. I do all the cookin’ ‘round here, and you, girl, look like you ain’t eaten in days.”

It was mostly true. Annis had eaten, though what she’d consumed could barely qualify as food. “Thank you, ma’a—” She stopped mid-word when Hugh shook his head at her, one brow arched, indicating she ought to know better by now. “—Momma T,” she corrected with a meek smile at the woman who, unlike Babe, seemed to house no motherly bone in her body. Annis thought it was a stretch even to call Momma T friendly, with her squared shoulders, thin lips, and heavy-lidded eyes.

“Don’t you worry none,” a chipper voice said from Annis’s lower left. “Momma T’s only scary ‘til you taste her beans and cornbread.” Annis’s eyes followed her ears until they landed on a man with messy, walnut-colored hair poking out in all directions beneath his frayed gray cap. He came up just below her hip, though he looked slightly older than she was. His sprite-like eyes met hers. He smiled like he knew exactly what she’d been thinking and had maybe even been waiting for her to finish her thought before he carried on. “Her food is where she keeps her heart. You’ll see.” He grinned, reaching his hand out to her. “Name’s Sawyer. Most folks call me Sawyer Smalls, or Smalls for short.” He paused, his eyes twinkling with delight at his own joke. “See what I did there?”

Annis nodded, unsure if it was in good taste to laugh. Instead, she took his hand and shook it politely. “Annis. It’s lovely to meet you.” His grasp was stronger than she’d expected.

“Give it a week,” he said. “Then you’ll know better.” He winked, releasing her hand. This time, she let out a spontaneous giggle.

“Right, then,” Hugh chimed in impatiently, placing both hands on his hips and giving a disapproving glare around the circle, which had lost some of its order due to the recent introductions. “If I’d known you’d all turn this into a bloody pre-show production, I’d have just called out everyone’s name in passing and pointed.” A rash of amused muttering erupted from the crowd, but they obliged his implied request for order and lined up shoulder to shoulder.

Once they were settled, he continued. “Alright, we haven’t got all day to do this, so I’ll go ‘round. I’ll say your name and you raise your hand, smile, curtsy, or do a ruddy headstand, for all I care. Just identify yourself and then let me move it along.”

He reached his long arm out and took Annis’s shoulder. “Come stand here, love,” he said, directing her to an overturned bucket on the ground nearby. “Get up high so you can see everyone.” Annis did as she was told, and Hugh began rattling off names. They were claimed, one by one, by someone in the crowd.

“Mabel. Maude.”

There was a brief interlude for Annis to spot them. She noticed they not only had identical raven hair and alabaster skin, but also their hips were fused together below the waist so that one twin was always on the left and the other always on the right. They wore a garment made from two conjoined dresses that were tailored for their needs. Both women waved, smiling as they welcomed her.

“Margaret. Oscar.”

A woman and man, both nearly as round as Hugh was tall, stepped forward ever so slightly, and the man’s protruding belly bumped into the woman in front of him, making her laugh as she jumped forward to keep from falling.

“And that there’s Bess. She’s our tightrope walker. Everyone’s always trying to make her fall, see. Just for fun, of course. ’Cause it can’t be done,” Hugh said before quickly continuing his roll call before the crowd lost all order again. By the time he finished, Annis had met trapeze artists Della and Leo; Homer, who could juggle anything from plates to balls of fire; Floyd, an albino man in his seventies; August, who claimed to be the strongest man alive; and Caroline, a red-haired woman with an unusual capacity to bend and contort herself. Caroline really did do a headstand to introduce herself, except she’d taken Hugh’s invitation literally and, once in an inverted position, bent her feet back until she was actually standing on her own head. Annis met Francis and Will, who did the heavy lifting for Brooks and Bennet. They were on the run from the authorities for their many thieving transgressions. Then there was Lila, Etta, and Viola, a lovely singing trio who were all sisters born to a slave mother and privileged father, both of whom had been executed for their affair. By the time Hugh stopped spouting off names, Annis was dizzy from the volume of information, as well as the oddity of it all.

She was about to ask if there was a place where she could perhaps get another drink of water and a brief moment of solitude to gather her wits when Babe said, “Wait! She hasn’t met Sequoyah. Where is that boy, anyway? Now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t recall seeing him at all today.” Babe seemed worried as she looked past the group to scan the valley beyond.

“Something spooked the horses last night. He took off after them,” said Will, the younger and burlier of the two tag-along thieves. “He’ll turn up, Babe. Don’t you worry. He always does.”

Hugh wrapped his arm over Babe’s shoulders, curling his wrist around her neck and leaning down to tell her, softly, “He’s right, you know. Sequoyah knows what he’s doing. You go on and get Annis settled and I’m sure he’ll turn up just as soon as you stop looking.”

Babe sighed, her shoulders sagging. “That boy’s going to have his name on my every last worry line by the time I’m old and wrinkled.” She took another deep breath and shook loose her broad shoulders. A timid smile returned to her face, restoring the kindness to it that Annis was already used to from her. Her. The female pronoun for Babe seemed equal parts odd and appropriate.

“Alright, Tulip. How about we start with getting you a drink of water? You must be absolutely parched,” Babe said. She smiled, but Annis noticed her eyes held a dim of worry as she carried on without so much as expecting a response. “And then let’s see if we can find the real girl hiding under all of this dirt and distress.” Annis was tempted to tell her the real girl would never be found, no matter how much Babe scrubbed the tarnished shell in which she lived now, but she held her tongue and simply nodded.

Babe glanced over her shoulder, scanning the stragglers. Will was only just turning away when she called out to him, “Will, be a dear and fill the tub in my tent, would you?”

Will stopped on a dime and tipped his head in her direction. “I’m on it, Babe.” He was back in motion before finishing his sentence and disappeared behind a cluster of circus equipment Annis couldn’t begin to identify.

While everyone else went back to work preparing for that night’s show, Annis followed Babe with shaky steps as her adrenaline released its final surges. Annis’s mind still lagged from trying to process her new surroundings and the lovely, strange, extraordinary people who occupied them. She kept her head down as she walked behind Babe, forcing herself to keep her eyes on the only familiar sight in her vicinity: the dirt beneath her feet. When they’d arrived at a small tent that extended out from one of the train’s cars, the swish of fabric drew her attention back upward. Babe held back a bundle of violet satin that served as a door and used her free hand to gesture for Annis to step inside.

Inside the tent, lanterns hung from a multitude of hooks attached to every pole, support beam, and other available structure in sight. A different colored satin sheet adorned each wall in a delightful rainbow of deepest plum, light rose, earthy sage, and cornflower blue. Standing in the center of the tent was a vanity, complete with a large mirror and basin filled with clear water and fresh wash rags. Beautiful gowns of silk and lace were strung up from one corner to another like dancing maidens standing shoulder to shoulder in a fabulous kick line. Annis felt dreamy as she looked around Babe’s colorful oasis, filled with all the riches she’d likely collected on her travels. Handmade quilts hung draped over a rustic wooden bench, strange paintings and sculptures like nothing Annis had ever seen before were scattered about, some leaning against furniture, some displayed from hooks nailed into the tent poles. Quiet music hummed in the background and everywhere her eyes touched she saw color. Babe seemed to have an affinity for flowers. The small space was littered with vases, small and large, some luxurious crystal, some no more than an empty can that was once used for beans. Each one was filled with a different collection of wildflowers, all at varying stages of their life cycle. While some were freshly picked, with tight cusps still waiting to bloom, others had long since seen their days of blossoming and been left to live in glory forever, dried and dead, though still perfectly intact. Together they all emitted the loveliest potpourri, which wrapped Annis in the sweetest symphony of scents. However, she was certain she must really be dreaming, or maybe hallucinating—which was certainly possible, considering her exhaustion and dehydration— when her gaze landed on a hammock, in which sat a very large, striped cat. Though she’d never seen one before, Annis was certain it was a tiger. She had seen many a house cat—and this was no house cat.

“Magnificent, isn’t he?” Babe said, admiration shining from her eyes as she looked at the giant feline. “Can you believe someone thought it wise to keep him chained in a cage? A beautiful creature like this?” She shook her head and furrowed her brow.

“He’s not…” Annis paused, not wanting to say anything offensive to Babe, who had been nothing but kind despite Annis’s suspicious, sudden arrival and unkempt appearance. “…Dangerous?” She wasn’t sure why she was asking. Massive though he was, he was also majestic. He carried a sage wisdom in his aura that left Annis feeling more drawn to him than fearful.

“Basileus? Dangerous?” Babe laughed heartily. “Not in the least. I think you’ll find most creatures, big and small, will respond according to how you treat them. You show them respect, they’ll respect you in return. You love them, honor them, care for them, and the loyalty returned to you will abound.”

“Basileus,” Annis whispered his name, the feel of it on her tongue making her smile. It was unlike any name she’d heard before. “What does it mean?”

“It’s means ‘king’ in Greek,” Babe answered. “Suits him, don’t you think?”

“Very much,” she agreed, still unable to take her eyes off the tiger who seemed unperturbed by their intrusion.

“Of course, you’d never have known by the sight of him when we first found him,” Babe said, reminiscing out loud. “His coat was dull and matted with bare spots where the shackles had rubbed him raw and bloody. Skin and bones, he was. Refused to eat in the state they kept him in. Hugh wasn’t sure it’d be humane to keep him going, the way he was. Said he was too far gone. Had given up. But then,” she paused, touching Annis lightly on the arm to draw her attention. “His eyes. They told us. He’d seen things. Terrible things. All the worst the world had to offer…” she trailed off. “But,” she continued, “he was still there. Alive. On fire. Wild with an unbridled courage, as though he knew they’d done all they could to him, and he’d survived anyway.”

“He hadn’t given up,” Annis whispered.

“Never.” Babe gave her a bittersweet smile. “The wild ones never do.” She began to turn away but Annis stopped her by touching her arm, grazing ever so lightly with her fingertips, surprised she’d been bold enough to reach out at all.

“Babe?”

“Yes, Tulip.” It wasn’t a question. “Your eyes tell it too,” she said.

A warm wave of gratitude swept through Annis. She knew Babe would never ask to know the worst of what Annis had seen before finding herself here in this unexpected oasis of salvation. Annis, who’d spent her first life an invisible bystander, a mere shadow hidden in the tapestries of life, had come back a girl who could be seen, a girl whose eyes told stories she hoped her mouth would never have to repeat. Maybe it would be the death of them, or maybe those stories would live on, trapped inside her. All she knew for now was that they wouldn’t stop her from having hope anymore. There would be new life after the old. And in this one, she would do more than simply serve as a lovely backdrop in someone else’s story.

“Why don’t you have a seat right here,” Babe said, indicating with her hand that Annis should sit at the vanity. “We can start by undoing the mess in your hair while we wait for Will to finish preparing the tub.” Annis did as she was told while Babe turned away to fetch the water she had promised.

The vanity chair was made of a soft, comfortable, purple velvet. Annis struggled to keep her eyes open. “You just relax and let me take care of things,” Babe said, seeing Annis’s efforts to stay awake as she placed a full glass in front of her. But Annis was unable to surrender to her exhaustion, no matter how heavy her lids or how achy her body. Her mind, still wired for survival, would not allow it.

She clung to conscious thought but let her eyes rest, dropping their lids halfway. A sliver of light was all her mind needed to illuminate her rambling trains of thought about tigers and bearded men in dresses, about sisters whose two bodies lived as one, about men who were unusually tall and others who were unusually tiny, about strong men and large men, about women who’d been shunned by society for being something other than timid or chaste or white. What did those supposed virtues matter if you could command a crowd? If you could dance across a tightrope, certain you would never fall? If you could sing or fly or bend beyond the fear of breaking?

Annis was told all her life that she had lived in the presence of greatness, of remarkable and important people. After meeting this band of circus misfits who inspired awe and wonder wherever they went, however, she questioned affixing such grand labels to the people she had known before. What had they ever offered the world besides judgement, snobbery, and division? Rare had a been a kind word, yet they were all quick to point out differences as unacceptable flaws of inferior folks. Never once had she witnessed a welcome quite like the one that she’d received here. A stranger, unannounced with nothing to offer would never have been invited in by any of those men and women she’d known before. Annis saw nothing great or remarkable in that.

Mind ablaze with exciting new truths, her squinting gaze slipped along the lanterns near the opening of the tent just as Will was lifting the corner of a satin sheet to poke his scruffy, red-haired head inside.

“Tub’s filled, Babe. You ready for it?” The sound of his voice brought her mind back into the present.

“I do believe we are,” Babe answered, placing a handful of pins onto the vanity in front of Annis, who reached up to touch her hair.

“You untangled it?” she asked, combing her fingers through the long, wavy strands. Only this morning she’d been certain she would have to cut the mass of matted knots from it.

“We’ll give it a good wash and it’ll be soft and shiny again in no time,” Babe assured her, gently squeezing Annis by the shoulders and helping her out of the velvet chair. “You’ll find a dressing gown just inside there.” Babe oriented Annis’s shoulders in the direction of the train car attached to the tent. “Give Will a minute to set everything up in here and then you can come back for your bath.”

Annis started toward the car to get undressed, then hesitated. “Am I really going to take a bath with Babe in the tent?” she wondered to herself. “Am I going to let a man help me wash?” Dress or otherwise, Annis was convinced that underneath it all he wasn’t really a she at all. He felt like one, though, and maybe that was enough to accept him as such. As if Babe could sense her concerns, she added, “I’ll be waiting outside myself. Give me a shout when you’re under the suds and I’ll be in to help with whatever you need.” Annis nodded, grateful to her. Her. Babe was a her, whether Annis could form the right thoughts to explain it to herself or not.

The train car door, unlike every other part of the tent, was hard and heavy, made of solid wood with a metal frame. For a moment, Annis struggled to garner the strength to close it. Her first instinct was to ask for help. Her second, much stronger impulse denied that instinct. Taking a deep breath, she squeezed her fists as tightly as she could, channeling every last bit of strength she had in her, and then, with both hands, she pushed, sliding the door back into place. It had barely shut behind Annis when she heard the squeaking tires of a wagon rolling into the tent. Then she heard wooden slats sliding over each other in a smooth motion, followed by a light thump and water splashing. Will was preparing the bath water.

She closed her eyes and took a breath, inhaling the scent of lavender and peppermint, both of which had been freshly picked and placed in small vases on a table near the door. The car itself was hardly furnished. Aside from the table, there was a small bench along one side and a makeshift curtain hung across the corner to create a space for dressing.

As she made her way to the dressing corner, her feet felt light —not numb or tingly, but as though the weight of her soul wasn’t fully tethered to her body. Maybe it hasn’t settled on living over dying just yet, she thought. Or maybe it’s starting to return after abandoning me in that river. Or maybe it’s detached itself and will never fully fall back into place. Light footsteps—that’s all I’m capable of anymore.

She untied the belt of her coat as she pondered the meaning of her bodily sensations, surprised that the lightness of her feet concerned her more than the emptiness of her stomach. Her fingertips slid gingerly over the dress’s buttons, undoing each as she went until she felt the rough linen begin to glide from her skin and down her body. Stepping out of the heavy skirt, Annis reached for the dressing gown suspended from a hook an arm’s length away. The gown was soft against her, which she relished after the harsh conditions of recent days. She hung her clothes on the same hook and then, opening the door just a crack, she checked that Will had left the tent before making her way back inside to take her bath.

Chapter Three

THE RIDER

After she emerged from having her bath, Annis’s skin felt smooth and soft except for the parts now scabbed and calloused by the days spent wandering the wilderness. Stepping out of Babe’s tent, taking in the sunlight and fresh air, Annis reveled in her new, fresh self. She now wore a pair of purple trousers, a flashy red corset, and a short-sleeved white bodice, all freshly laundered and gifted to her by Babe who’d insisted her previous ensemble was no longer fit for wearing and thus would not be leaving her car on Annis’s body ever again. Annis had been more than happy to agree with her in order to shed the last layers of her past as she prepared to embrace her new future.

More important than the clothes she wore, though, were her light, wavy locks that fell loose past her shoulders. Babe, unlike Annis’s mother, had refused to do more than brush Annis’s blonde hair. Once confined to being pinned snug against her scalp and curled into perfect ringlets, her hair had been set free by Babe, who insisted the wind would know best what to do with it. She was right. Now it shone gold in the sunlight and lifted on the breeze.

Babe had told her exactly where to find Momma T and a proper meal, and yet Annis wandered aimlessly, her arms light at her sides and her hair floating out behind her. She took in all of the circus sights as she walked. To her left was the train, composed of a mismatched collection of patchwork carts, many pieced together from scrap metal and reclaimed lumber, then adorned with unexpected details like stained glass windows and wildly colored doors. Babe had told her all about the day she and Hugh had acquired the engine (“sheer luck alone,” she’d said) while she’d been washing Annis’s hair. She’d gone on about how it put an end to the years they’d spent traveling the country in a horse and carriage caravan and Annis had soaked herself in the stories much like her bath, allowing a temporary escape from reality. From the stories Annis learned Hugh and Babe had continued to add carts based on need and ability, creating a small but mighty train that had as much character as the passengers themselves.

To her right, Annis noticed a great deal had changed since her arrival. While she’d soaked in the suds, everyone else had worked to complete and secure the circus tent. It was hard to imagine the dazzling tent not standing there an hour ago, and harder still to believe it would no longer stand there tomorrow. Making her way around the massive structure, Annis passed by dainty Bess rehearsing her number on a tightrope rigged only a few feet above the ground. Bess moved over the rope—backwards and forwards and even jumping in pirouettes—as gracefully as if she were dancing on solid ground. Annis continued to meander around camp with her mouth agape, in awe of the gifted group that now surrounded her. She listened as the three singing sisters all warmed up their vocal chords, creating a rainbow of sound in which each voice echoed brighter than the one preceding it.

Then the sound of many hooves thundering toward her snapped her out of her listening trance. A herd of at least a half-dozen mustangs ran straight for the tent’s opening, each one a different color, some painted in two or three. From snowy white to charcoal black, and every shade of brown, from creamy blonde to warm chestnut, the rich array coated their stunning muscular bodies in a velvety coat that shimmered in the sunlight. Their long manes and tails flowed behind them. A rider atop a pitch-black horse galloped in behind the herd. He used no reins or saddle.

Annis broke into a run to catch up with them.

A wall of thick, hot air hit her as soon as she stepped inside the tent and reminded her that summer was coming. It seemed odd, the recognition of season, the return of time. She realized she’d expected to find all had passed faster in her absence. And she had felt absent, secluded in the woods, in a universe all to herself. It felt to her as though the world could have elapsed into another year or another decade entirely. It hadn’t. The earth had spun at the same speed it always had even though Annis’s experience of time had warped while in isolation.

Though the horses had settled in the tent, the dust had not. It tickled her nose, causing her to sneeze. She froze. The tent wasn’t nearly as empty as Annis had expected and she wasn’t ready for any more attention today. She noticed Hugh, Will, and Francis arranging the rows of benches for the audience later that night. Nearby, Caroline’s bright red hair drew Annis’s attention. She watched as Caroline bent over backward and curled into a human hoop, through which Homer tossed knives and caught them as they arced back around to him. In the midst of all this, no one noticed her sneeze. Annis sighed with relief and continued deeper into the tent’s interior.

Still sniffling from the sneeze, Annis twitched her nose back and forth, trying to help ease the introduction of new scents that seemed to multiply the longer she stood inside the tent. The sunbaked earth at her feet. Stale popcorn and sweets. Fresh hay, and an unfamiliar musk she assumed came from the horses, who now stood at the center of the ring.

Some pawed at the ground while others paced. One even dropped into the dirt and rolled around until his white coat turned a dark shade of grey. Its sheer delight and the carefree ways in which it moved, with complete disregard to cleanliness or propriety, were contagious and Annis giggled at the sight. She’d read books about horses from the time she was old enough to read and daydreamed about meeting one, but she had never been allowed to visit with them, let alone to learn how to ride, even though her father had kept a stable at the edge of their property. Only ballet had been deemed an appropriate pastime, according to Annis’s mother, who’d loathed dirt and animals alike.

The herd parted down the middle to make a path for the rider, now on his feet. The young man, with skin tinted red by his ancestors and kissed golden by the sun, wore his long black tresses braided in some small sections and falling loose in others, with feathers and beads twisted throughout. Mischief rested on his dark lips as he took in the herd around him. He took his steps slowly and with great care to respect the space of each animal he passed. He engaged with each of them along the way. A tender palm moving down the forehead, a firm pat on the neck, a scratch above the withers. Quiet whispers and unspoken greetings as he exchanged small bursts of breath in keeping with the horse’s natural means of communicating.

Though she understood the implications of staring at a young man, a young native man, no less, Annis found it impossible to avert her eyes. Of all the displays of human talent around her, Annis found the subtle ways in which this man and his horses communicated the most impressive. A tap at one’s side, Annis noticed, meant move along. A stroke down another’s muzzle prompted the horse to follow him. Curiosity goaded her to approach the rider, to enter into the sacred circle he shared with those mustangs.

“Sequoyah,” Hugh called out, breaking Annis’s focus from the horses and their rider. She watched the handsome stranger straighten his stance and peek above the herd that still surrounded him. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” he said, a quiet laugh rumbling behind his words.

Hugh tried to hide a grin. “Just go tell her you’re back, would ya?”

Sequoyah nodded, still laughing. “Someone really ought to tell her I’m not eight anymore.”

“It would break her heart and you know it!” Hugh yelled after him. “Who is she going to fuss over when she realizes you’re not her little boy anymore?” Sequoyah didn’t respond but hurried from the tent in search of Babe.

Meanwhile, the work of setting up benches continued.

“I don’t know,” Francis muttered just loud enough to be heard, hoisting up a thick slab of wood and dropping it down onto several stumps to create more seating. “Babe’s got Annis now. I think someone could let it slip Sequoyah grew up a few years back. Even if she missed it.”

Will laughed. “She’d never accept it. Besides, I don’t think Annis is going to need her all that long. Bit of sleep, and some proper food, I have a feeling we’ll be seeing a completely different girl come morning.” He nodded at Francis to pick up the next slab and they bent down in unison. “Might be time to consider getting Babe a puppy, Hugh.”

“Right, so Basileus can eat it. Great idea, Will.”

Annis’s mouth folded into a smile, amused by Hugh’s candor. A puppy and a tiger likely weren’t the most ideal combination where pets were concerned.

Conscious of not drawing any unwanted attention, Annis quietly began to tiptoe her way back toward the opening of the tent when she took note of shuffling feet moving behind her. Her mind instantly alert, she scanned the area until she saw Floyd, the elderly man whose pale complexion reminded her of powdered sugar and whose pink eyes made it hard to look away even as they bore into her.

She felt suddenly desperate for an escape. He’s harmless, she reminded herself. Whatever his appearance might have suggested to her, he had done nothing to deserve her fear or judgement and she did her best to hide every trace of her discomfort as he approached.

Mustering a smile, she watched as he came to a standstill before her. He wore a strange expression. His eyes, though locked on her, were staring straight through her, as though he could see things others couldn’t. The oddest part was, Annis thought, the way his mouth barely moved while he muttered under his breath, as though speaking in tongues. Without saying an audible word to Annis directly, he took her hand and turned her palm upright. He then stroked it gently with the rough tips of his fingers and placed a small, black stone at the center of it. He folded her fingers around it as his pink eyes turned red. Annis felt his gaze become present.

“For protection,” he wheezed, struggling for his voice, “so he can’t find you.”

His attention drifted as quickly as it had come, and his feet resumed their shuffle away from Annis, who stood frozen by fear. “How had he known?” she wondered to herself. “He couldn’t have. It simply isn’t possible.”

She opened her hand to peer down at the stone he’d given her. Part of her wanted to throw it as far and as hard as she could. The other part wanted to believe it could offer her what he’d promised. Protection. She shook her head, letting her hand fall at her side. Her fingers uncurled until the small stone rolled from her grasp and into the dirt at her feet. It wasn’t real. The old man was grasping at straws, speculating about her past, probably like all the others were. Annis closed her eyes and forced her thoughts to believe the words she was feeding them. She was safe. No one knew. And the old man was just that, an old man, and likely a senile one, at that.

Annis gave up all efforts of being quiet as she hurried out of the tent, desperate for fresh air and the freedom of open sky overhead. Her heart raced in her chest as dirt and gravel crunched under the soles of her new boots. Even once outside, she found it hard to breathe. Still, she kept moving aimlessly through camp, yearning for distance from the encounter with Floyd.

“Whoa, there! Slow down, girl. You almost missed my tent,” Momma T said as she walked straight toward Annis, bringing her to an abrupt halt. She wiped her hands clean on her apron and said, “Cornbread is golden brown and piping hot. Fresh churned butter will melt the second the two touch. It’ll never taste any better than it does right now.” When Annis didn’t react, Momma T waved her closer, taking a few more steps in her direction.

“Girl, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, frowning. “Now, I don’t know what it is that’s got you spooked but I can guarantee you, there ain’t nothin’ in camp to be scared of. And everythin’ outside of camp is too scared to come in and find out.” She smirked.

Annis couldn’t help but grin back at her. She knew Momma T was right. She’d heard the harsh words people used to describe those who traveled with the circus. Coldhearted misfits touched in the head. The sort who’d toss you off the train just as soon as they’d throw you in a lion pen. Now she regretted ever believing a single one of them because Annis was sure these people had just kept her from dying in the wilderness, even though she was a complete stranger to them.

“It’s just…I don’t think I can be who people think I am,” Annis said.

Momma T crossed her arms, her brow furrowed in concern. “And who do you think people believe you to be?”

“Someone who can be saved,” she whispered, hardly able to bear the words.

Momma T nodded slowly, her stern mouth growing tender on her rigid face as she stepped in closer. She draped one arm around Annis’s shoulders, her hand curling in around Annis’s neck as she tucked her head down to touch their foreheads together. “I’m gonna tell you a secret. We’re all beyond saving. But we still found our salvation the second we set foot inside this circus and saw our broken, battered souls mirrored back to us in every face already inside. Here, the rest of the world doesn’t get to decide who you are or what you should be. The tarnished, the shunned, can rise to reach the spotlight and do so to roaring applause. The very people who would not approve of you, who foolishly believe they can break you, wind up in awe of you. That’s the power of the circus. That’s the freedom you find when you no longer allow yourself to be demeaned or attacked by the small-minded standards of an easily frightened society. Being saved, being worthy of saving, no longer looks the same.” Her dark brown eyes rested on Annis’s for a long time. “It’s not us who’s wrong. It’s you. You’ll see.”

Then Momma T released Annis from her steady grip and gave her a nudge with one bony elbow and added, “Come on, cornbread won’t stay warm forever and I have to get another batch going before showtime.” Annis’s stomach growled as if on cue. She clutched her belly and turned red with embarrassment.

“Hunger ain’t nothing to feel shame for,” Momma T said sternly, gesturing for her to hurry up. “Turning down perfectly good food? Now that’s another story.” Annis didn’t argue and fell into step beside Momma T as they made their way into the large emerald colored tent that served as a dining hall. Beyond the massive green tarp was a makeshift kitchen, complete with serving station. Annis could hardly believe her eyes as she took it all in.

“It smells divine,” Annis said, inhaling deeply through her nose and sighing to exhale. She couldn’t remember the last real food she’d eaten. You don’t tend to savor things you don’t know are the last you’ll have, she thought, and you don’t tend to know they’re the last you’ll have until it’s too late.

“It better smell heavenly,” Momma T said, “because I must have said about a hundred ‘Oh, Lord Jesuses’ when I damn near burned my hand off making it.”

Annis’s eyes widened and a chuckle rose in her throat. She wondered if she’d ever get used to hearing the things that came out of Momma T’s mouth. She hoped not.

After a few spins around her makeshift kitchen, Momma T handed Annis a meal large enough to feed ten people and sent her to the nearest table in the attached dining area to begin her feast.

The space wasn’t big, but it was well utilized, with banquet style tables and benches lined up in neat rows. Annis counted four in all. She passed the first table, dragging her fingertips over the surface. The wood was worn smooth. Patches of emerald paint still clung to the panels in the places Annis imagined the table saw less wear, down the center mostly, tiny remnants suggesting the tables once matched the tent. The benches were built in a similar fashion, mostly thick slabs of wood lined up and bolted down onto thick, solid legs. But where the tables held small sentiments of green, the benches had once been painted white.

Annis walked until she found herself at the center of an otherwise empty dining hall and took her seat. “Dig in,” Momma T called out, her back already turned as she headed out to the fire with a fresh batch of cornbread ready to bake. “There’s plenty more for seconds.”

“Thank you,” Annis said, still taking in the feast plated before her. Her mouth watered. She felt overwhelmed by the choice of what to eat first.

“I’d start with the cornbread.” Annis glanced up at the sound of another voice, one she recognized.

“Hi, Sawyer.” She smiled, pleased to have remembered his name.

He nodded, climbing up onto the bench across from her. “Take a big chunk and swipe it straight through the beans. You’ll never taste anything better.”

“If you knew what I’ve been eating recently, you’d know anything would taste better,” she said, but still took his advice. She wasn’t sorry she did. The cornbread was perfectly crisp on the outside but soft to the touch. Annis gripped the small piece with both hands and pulled it apart, a fresh burst of steam erupting from the wonderfully fluffy inside. Even before she tasted it, she could smell the sweet scent of honey and corn. Dutifully following Sawyer’s orders, she took the smaller of two halves and slid it straight through the beans, watching it soak in all the gravy before carefully guiding the cornbread back to her mouth. Sweet and savory flavor erupted in waves of comfort inside her mouth and slowly spread to her entire being. It was absolutely divine.

Sauce dripped down her chin as she took another bite, and then another, before she could muster humming a sound of contentment.

Sawyer grinned. “Told ya.”

“What, you think this is a full-service establishment now?” Momma T said, placing another meal on the table for Sawyer.

“If you’re willing to make it one,” he teased, going straight for his own square of cornbread. “Thank you, Momma.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she mumbled under her breath, already on to buttering another pan for her next batch of cornbread.

Sawyer leaned in closer so that only Annis could hear and whispered, “Don’t let her fool ya. She serves everyone that sets foot in here. Trying to help yourself to something from her kitchen will get you chased outta here with a wooden spoon.” Then he looked up, over Annis’s shoulder. “Just ask Sequoyah. He knows all about that,” Sawyer said, and then laughed.

“What’s that?” Sequoyah asked, walking toward their table. Annis had been oblivious that he had entered, but she could now feel him move in closer beside her with an overwhelming sense of awareness. She couldn’t bring herself to look, worried she’d again be unable to turn her gaze away from him.

“Momma and her spoon,” Sawyer answered him, chuckling as he picked up his fork and tucked into his meal with more fervor than one would expect from someone not much bigger than the pile of food on his plate. Sequoyah laughed. It was a smooth, deep sound, hearty and unencumbered. The sound was so genuine, so strangely familiar, and yet so thrillingly new that it made Annis’s stomach flip with excitement.

“I never was good at following rules,” he admitted. “That spoon has left a mark across the back of my hand more than once.” He lowered himself onto the seat beside Annis and she felt her chest tighten. Then he turned toward her, his hand outstretched. Even out of the corner of her eye, she could see him smiling at her. It was enough to flush her skin hot pink. “You must be Annis,” he said, clearly oblivious to her current condition. She could feel the sweat pooling in her palms.

“Hi,” she said at last, moving her head in his direction ever so slightly and running her hand up and down her thigh to dry it on the cotton of her trousers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Her gaze inched upward until her eyes met with his as her palm landed in his waiting grip. She felt his fingers wrap around her hand, sending a warm tingle down her arm and into the pit of her stomach, filling it so that she forgot about her hunger.

Mesmerized by the sheer beauty of his face and the endless kindness spilling from his dark eyes down onto her, she stared at him. His own gaze never wavered from hers until Sawyer cleared his throat, erasing the magic of their unspoken moment. But it had been magic. Annis was as certain of that as she was of the truth that she understood the instant they had averted their eyes. She and Sequoyah could never do more than share the magic of that moment. It could never be more than that. More would only lead to a target on his back. And no one else would die on her account.

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