Mufree's General Goods was a claustrophobic cavern of curios. That isn't to say there wasn't a collection of otherwise useful items in the store. In fact, there was a large assortment of furniture and household wares that Pallas surmised would be difficult to make on one's own without the proper tools and knowledge. If anything, Naythen's experience in 7th Grade woodshop class made that abundantly clear. Still, there were a number of objects of dubious utility such as an array of roughly-carved figurines depicting animals in ... copulative poses. Pallas cringed and averted her gaze as she followed Amelinne deeper into the store. The store was poorly lit, relying mostly on a handful of candelabra to illuminate the darker recesses of the space, creating eerie shadows that fell across the tables and walls that made some of the trinkets appear to be watching the pair with darkened eyes.

Pallas paused to idly finger a collection of surprisingly well-crafted kitchen knives when a looming figure stepped out from the back of the store and into the light. She was startled to see that he was well over six feet tall, the top of his head being beyond her reach even on her tip-toes, but more impressive was his girth. The man was massive. Not in a President Taft or Yokozuna sumo kind of way, but more in a powerlifter muscle-bound fashion. His intimidating aura was offset by a soft smile and a huge auburn mustache. Amelinne casually stepped toward the hulking man, placed one hand on her hip, and said, "Good afternoon, Mufree! How are you, today?"

"I'm doing quite well!" Mufree replied in a resonant bass. "How is Miss Amelinne, today? And who is your companion?" he continued, shifting his gaze toward Pallas.

"This!" Amelinne said dramatically as she pulled Pallas forward, "Is Miss Pallas, Eber's newest resident and future employee. She comes to you on a mission of dubious import on behalf of Eber Portrow."

Having been shuffled to the center of this interaction, Pallas withdrew the envelope from her apron pocket and held it awkwardly to Mufree with both hands. "Hi, I'm Pallas! This is from Eber at the inn!"

Mufree laughed, a deep hearty sound, as he accepted the envelope. "Well, aren't you a cute little thing, Miss Pallas?" He used one huge thumb to break the wax seal and retrieve the letter within. "Now let's see what Old Eber has to say." His eyes scanned the document as Pallas shifted subtly into Amelinne's shadow. 

Amelinne turned her head toward Pallas and whispered, "Why are you hiding?"

Pallas looked up to Amelinne with a guarded expression and quietly replied, "I don't have good experiences around large men."

Amelinne was about to inquire further, but Mufree laughed as he finished perusing his letter, interrupting them. "Well, well, well. Looks like Eber just wanted to introduce you to me as the person who will be collecting his orders for a while and to offer you a small line of credit to buy things for your room at the inn to make it feel more homey!"

Amelinne stepped aside to reveal Pallas's surprised countenance. Pallas fidgeted uncomfortably before saying, "That's really not necessary. I don't need anything more than a place to sleep."

"Oh, come on, now. Every young lady needs a few comforts in her room," Mufree replied, gesturing toward a shelf nearby. "Like a pretty doll or an embroidered pillow!"

"I'm not a young lady!" Pallas snapped. "Everyone keeps calling me Miss, and a faerie, and all this other stuff. I know what I look like, but I also know what I am!" she nearly shouted before regaining her composure. "I'm just a fake person, not a real girl. Just some driftwood that washed up on the shore."

Mufree leaned back and folded his arms, his smile lost beneath his monstrous mustache. Amelinne took a couple steps back at the outburst as well, shocked by the sudden change in her otherwise meek companion. Both were silent as they regarded Pallas cautiously.

Pallas took a deep breath to calm herself, closing her eyes as she did so. When she finally opened them, she gave a weak laugh. "I'm sorry. That's not a very good first impression, is it? You have no way of knowing my circumstances. I'm just a little girl to you all." Unbidden tears welled up in her eyes and Pallas wiped them away hastily with a forced smile. "Thank you for the offer of credit, but that will not be necessary. I don't know how long I'll be allowed to stay here and I don't need anything extra to carry when I leave. I'm sorry that I yelled, Mr. Mufree. I look forward to working with you."

With that, she turned on her heel and darted out the front door, wiping more tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. 'Why am I so freaking emotional?' Pallas thought to herself. 'It's like I've gone from everything feeling muffled and distant to super painful and intense!' Once outside, she made her way around the corner of the store into the alley between that building and the next. It was cast into cool shadow by the mid-afternoon sunlight and Pallas found herself sliding down the rough wooden wall of the General Goods store to sit with her knees up to her face in the shade. It wasn't long before she began sobbing, her body wracked with the force of her cries.

Several long minutes passed before the intensity of the emotions died down enough for Pallas's sobs to dwindle into periodic sniffles. She lifted her head and turned it in the direction of a sound. Amelinne stood there in the sunlight, holding her hands anxiously.

"Pallas?" Amelinne asked cautiously. "I don't... really know what just happened in there, but we need to get back to the inn. Eber has another errand for you and I need to get ready for the dinner service." The taller girl was clearly trying not to pry but curiosity and concern were written plainly on her face. "Are you... all right? Do you need a hand?"

Pallas let her head fall back against the side of the building with an audible thunk. She laughed mirthlessly, a sound older than her apparent years. "Am I all right? No. But I don't need a hand, thank you. Honestly, it's probably better if you don't get too close to me... I feel like attachments are just gonna hurt everyone involved."

Amelinne frowned, confused by Pallas's vague warning. Undeterred, she marched over and leaned down, grabbing Pallas by the hand, and easily lifted her onto her feet. "Look, you're too young and too cute to play the whole dark and mysterious stranger thing. I get it enough from the boys in the inn. Whatever's bothering you, we can talk it out later. Right now, we need to focus on doing what needs to be done." Having said that, Amelinne stepped forward and gave Pallas a somewhat awkward hug. 

Realizing that her head was being pushed into Amelinne's chest, Pallas pushed away with a blush. "Um, thank you. I'll... uh... keep that in mind." 

Together, they returned to the inn which, Pallas noted, had only a sign with a picture of a tankard to mark it as being different from any other building in town -- although the sheer size, including the attached stable, marked it as being a communal building. Still, it was odd that Pallas had never heard the building referred to as anything other than "the inn." She resolved herself to inquire about that as soon as possible.

Upon entering, Eber looked up from his writings and called out, "About time! Welcome back! Amelinne, get ready for dinner. Pallas, come 'ere, lass, I have one last errand for ye." He seemed neither upset nor hurried as he waved the girls over. Amelinne nodded her head and walked past him toward the kitchen to prepare for the dinner service. Pallas stopped at the desk and placed her arms behind her back.

"Before we do the errand thing, can I ask a question?" Pallas inquired.

"I don't see why not. What's yer question?" Eber replied with a smile.

Pallas shrugged and asked, "What is this inn called? Everyone just calls it 'The Inn.'"

Eber suddenly burst out laughing, doubling over his desk as he did so. "That..." he managed between laughs. "That's a damn good question!"

Pallas tilted her head and raised an eyebrow in confusion. "Why... is this so funny?"

Collecting himself somewhat, Eber propped himself on his elbows as he leaned toward Pallas on his desk. "There is no name!" he said in a strained voice before bursting out laughing again.

With a couple steps backward, Pallas began looking around the great room, checking to see whether she was being pranked by the locals or if anyone else was noticing the odd mental breakdown of the proprietor of the inn. There were only a couple people sitting at one table, nursing drinks, but they seemed to regard this as perfectly normal behavior. She turned back toward Eber, whose face was red from laughter. "I'm sorry, why is this so funny?"

Eber stood up, chuckling a bit, but calming himself. "I forget yer not from the village, so ye wouldn't know. Heh. This inn's been in my family for the last four generations, but not a one of us could ever think of a name fer it!" He laughed again as though this were some huge joke. "We've been calling it 'The Inn' because it's the only one in town for so many years that no one has ever questioned it! Visitors don't care -- they simply ask after the inn and they're directed here!" After a few more chuckles, he finally said, "The only visitors we ever get are a couple traders from the next towns over and clergy from Erimere. Ye're the first person to care what the inn is called in decades!"

So *that* was the joke, Pallas realized. She smacked herself in the forehead before squaring off her feet and folding her arms at her chest. "Seriously? THAT'S what's so funny? Gah! I just thought a business should have a name!" She threw up her arms in exasperation. "Like, even if it was just The Rivergarde Inn and your sign was a picture of a river with a shield in front of it! Put a tankard of ale on the shield like some sorta heraldry! Something to make it memorable, something to come back to, y'know?"

"That simple? Really?" Eber muttered. "Ye're saying ye know better than four generations of my family?" he continued, looking into Pallas's eyes with a raised eyebrow.

"I mean, you're already halfway there. You're the *only* inn here. So you're The Inn in Rivergarde. You just mix it up and BAM! The Rivergarde Inn," Pallas said defiantly.

"In Listern's name, will the two of you *shut up?*" came a cry from one of the two fellows sipping on ale. "The girl makes a good point, Eber. Get over yourself. And for Lun's sake, shut your pie-holes so I can enjoy my drink in peace!"

Pallas, startled by the outburst, looked to Eber. Eber, however, just burst out laughing. "Ye're right, Mackey! An' that's what's climbin' under my skin! Over eighty years and not a one in my family thought to name this ol' lodge after the *town*! We were so busy tryin' to come up with somethin' unique or smart that we completely overlooked the obvious!" He reached across his desk and put one of his hands on Pallas's shoulder. "M'lass, ye've definitely earned yer meal, tonight!"

Smiling awkwardly, Pallas patted Eber's hand before gingerly removing it from her shoulder. "So... about that errand?" she asked with an uncertain half-grin.

"Ah! Yes! 'Tis a quick one, aye. Just need ye to run down to the river, head to the watermill, and ask Lukas to rush the next order o' firewood. There and back, then ye can have dinner," Eber said. Then, as if suddenly remembering something, he caught himself and blurted out, "Ah! I heard back from Mayor Rusk and the village meetin' won't happen for two weeks, so ye'll be here at least that long!"

Pallas nodded. "That's cool. So how will I recognize Lukas?"

"Tall boy, blond hair, blue eyes. Can't miss him. Should be the only one there, this time of day," Eber rattled off as he turned his attention back to his paperwork.

"You do a lot of paperwork for someone who runs an inn," Pallas said suspiciously.

Eber just shooed Pallas away with a wave of his hand and said, "I'm one of ten people in this village capable of readin'... er, eleven, now... and I sort the letters we receive into boxes for the readers and the rest of the folk. The non-readers pay tithes at the church for the Sisters to read for them. Now, off with ye', ye' nosy girl."

Pallas bristled at being dismissed in such a way, but did as she was told and headed out the door. The sunlight painted the village in golden tones and long shadows stretched across the road. Based on the direction of the setting sun, the main road of the village ran north and south, with the Church of Listern at the north and and the Mayor's house at the south end. That was, of course, assuming this planet's rotation ran in the same direction as Earth.

Pallas reeled a moment at the dysphoric thought that the "rules" of this planet could be completely different from those she knew. What if the sun rose in the west and set in the east? What if the axial tilt of the planet was greater? What if the planet was larger or smaller and had a different rotational speed than Earth? What if...

She smacked her face with both hands and shook her head. 'If the rules are different, you just have to learn the new rules, you moron!' she thought to herself in an award-winning display of self-encouragement. Shaking off the existential fear that had overcome her, she visualized the landmarks of the village as she knew them. The main road ran parallel to the river on the side the sun was setting in sort of a crescent shape with the inn sitting at the middle of the inside curve of the crescent. So... across the street and behind the buildings...

She set off briskly, the swishing of the skirt of her dress creating a sort of wooshing sound in the otherwise quiet afternoon air. Here and there, birds could be heard chirping and fluttering, and, as she approached the river, Pallas could hear the peeps and croaks of frogs in the shade of the trees ahead. There was a sort of clearing behind the buildings bereft of much in the way of decoration, save a well and a few small outbuildings. To her right, at the edge of the clearing, with a cobblestone path leading up to it, was a large covered structure attached to a waterwheel. 

Pallas walked cautiously toward the watermill with a feeling of icy dread thrumming in her veins. The closer she got, the shallower and quicker her breath became. She was aware of the racing beat of her heart and a tight clenching in her chest. Each hesitant step brought her incrementally closer to a building that was filling her with fear. She stared, unblinking, at the large wooden blades on the wheel as they broke the surface of the water, glided underneath, and splashed upward on the other side, throwing a fine mist into the air.

One step.

Then another.

One more.

Until she couldn't, anymore.

No matter how hard she tried, it felt like she couldn't breathe. Pallas clutched at her chest with both hands as her face began to tingle and chill, her lips prickling with numbness. Over and over, the blades of the waterwheel turned, oblivious to the panic that had paralyzed Pallas in her tracks. The outer edge of her vision began to darken and the golden greens and blues of the sun-drenched clearing and the rippling river began to desaturate, losing their color. Then the world began to tilt as it faded to black.

 

***

 

"-ey!" It was a young man's voice, sharp and robust.

"Hey, are you okay?" The voice came again, more insistently.

It was then that Pallas became aware of pressure around her shoulders and her knees. She was not on her feet. She was being carried. The haziness of the world slowly filtered into the blackness of her vision until she found herself looking up into the face of a living Ken doll. Bright blue eyes looked down at her from beneath golden hair that hung down to the level of his high cheekbones. A dazzling white smile lit up in his sun-tanned face.

"Hey, there you are!" he said. "You had me worried!"

'I'm being princess-carried by a Ken doll,' Pallas thought to herself as the reality of her situation set in. There was a long moment of silence as they stared into each other's eyes.

"Nope! Not okay with this!" Pallas exclaimed as she suddenly tried to push out of the man's arms. "Stranger danger!" she shouted. She noted that she still felt incredibly light-headed and disoriented, but the need to have some personal space overrode her self preservation instincts.

"Woah, woah, woah! It's okay, relax!" the man insisted. "I'm Lukas! I run the watermill!" 

"I don't care if you're Captain America! Put me down!" Pallas yelled with a final thrust of her arms that sent her tumbling to the ground. She landed knees-first and her butt followed onto her legs with a loud "Oof!"

Lukas immediately knelt down beside her, placing a hand on her back and leaning in. "Careful! I just found you passed out here a moment ago! You should let me carry you home."

Pallas turned her head in his direction. Lukas was sickeningly handsome, as if someone had Photoshopped an entire boy band into one person. This made her abundantly aware that her sexual preferences had *not* changed with the transformation of her body, because all she felt was a desperate desire to establish distance from the young man.

"What is your name?" Lukas asked.

"Pallas," she said as she rose to her feet and shrugged his hand off her back. "Eber sent me to ask you to rush the next order of firewood." She abruptly realized she was being rude to someone who had only showed genuine concern for her well-being. "Thank you for looking out for me, Lucas. I'm sorry for shouting at you... and that's the second time today I've had to apologize for that. I need to get my emotions under better control."

Pallas bowed her head toward Lukas in acknowledgement and turned to march back toward the inn. As she passed out of earshot, Lukas smiled. "Pallas, eh? What a beautiful girl..."