It was dawn when I came upon a small town. There was a waist-tall fence surrounding its perimeter and a few buildings that were taller than one story. The entrance was denoted by the continuation of the road into the town; none stood guard. As I walked through, I got a few curious looks - some at me, some at the girl, and some at my sword - but none said anything out loud. I continued until I found an inn.

She started to stir when I entered it. She blinked her eyes, adjusting them, and looked around the inn, confused, then looked up at me. Her face flushed red. She started to shake her legs up and down and flail around. I bent down, opened my arms, and she urgently stepped onto the floor. Was she already at that age, to be embarrassed by being carried around?

She then took my hand, turned me around, and walked me outside of the inn. My body would have followed you anyway. She continued walking me and said, "No one will take me seriously if you carry me around like a kid." You are a kid. No one will take you seriously regardless.

She walked around until we were in front of a general store; Birk's Best. She released my hand and walked into the store. I followed. When we were at the counter, the clerk addressed me, "Hello, what can I do for you today?"
I said nothing.
He repeated and tilted his head quizzically, "Hello?"
"Ahem." She coughed professionally into a held up fist.
"Ah, yes, little miss, what is it?"
"My name's Margaret and this is my uncle Galahad. He was caught in a fire a couple years ago, it burned his throat so he can't talk, and his skin is horribly burned, so he never takes off his armor." Oh, she knows my name?
"I see, so I'll be doing business with you today?"
"Indeed." She smiled and puffed out her chest proudly.
Good job.

We left Birk's Best with two backpacks (a smaller one for her and a larger one for me), a sleeping bag, a black cloak for her (she didn't like the color or the style, but it was all they had in stock for her size), a map, other essential provisions for traveling, and a lighter jar. I was worried she would waste money buying me a sleeping bag or cloak, but I was relieved when she didn't.

Instead of returning to the inn, we left the town through the east road. As I walked beside her, she said, "You know, I couldn't believe it, when you left that tomb. I know Papa thought I did something amazing. But I barely did anything. It was all his work. Everything in this book." She held up the book, proudly showing it to me. "If it weren't for him, you and I wouldn't be here." Her eyes glazed over and she smiled a half smile, as if she were remembering something nice. And when it was over, she looked back at me. "I'm not sure if you can understand me - I mean, anything other than my orders."
I can.
"But even if you can't, I'm going to talk anyway. I don't know how you feel about being... this. Do you hate it? Do you think it's an insult to your life? Do you hate being ordered around by a little girl?"
I was glad.
"I don't know how to undo the spell... I'm sure you would rather be free of me, of this curse I placed on you."
I'm fine.
"But you see, the thing is," She sighed, as if she weren't sure of anything anymore. "I'm scared, and I think I need you."
I know.
"Please don't hate me."
I don't.
Her eyes started to tear up. Margaret said, as if she thought she was stupid to even attempt to speak with me, "Right, so you can't understand me, of course."
I'm sorry.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.

Suddenly, an empty rumbling reverberated. It was her stomach. It must have been some time since her last meal. We were still close, so we turned around, back in the direction of the small town.

The two of us sat in a table at the inn, on opposite sides. The first floor doubled as a check in area and restaurant. She stored the book in her backpack when we sat down. The waitress asked us what we wanted. And Margaret repeated the same spiel she told to Birk. I didn't get anything of course, and she got a stew of some sort. She seemed to be enjoying it well enough, not scooping it down, but not cringing at its taste either. Margaret raised up a spoonful again, then she dropped it in her bowl, splashing a bit of stew. Her eyes widened wildly. I turned around. There were two knights in full plate armor, and white tabards with the symbol of the order of the purifying pyre, a dragon, at the front desk. How did they find us so quickly? Wait, I don't even know if they know to look for us. Margaret took some coins from the jar in her backpack, threw them on the table, got up, and left. I followed. I don't think they saw us. There were two horses tied to the outdoor posts of the inn. So that's how. 

We returned back to the east road. After a couple hours of walking, it didn't seem like they were following us. We stopped at a crossroads. There was a signpost for each of the four directions. I didn't think it meant much for us; I thought we were going east. However, she still took her time in reading it, and compared it to the map. She was about to say, "We're going -" when an agonizing cry came from the forest northwest of us, that is to say, northeast.

Immediately, she lowered her map and darted her head in its direction. This is giving me a bad feeling. She said, "We should check it out." She left the road and went into the grass, in the direction of the shout. This could be a trap. I'm pretty sure there was a monster that could mimic human sounds.

As we got closer, another noise emerged: a roar. She started to run. How am I supposed to protect you if you willing walk into fire.

She stopped behind the shrubbery at the outskirts of the forest, peering past them to see what lay ahead. The shouts came from a man, or on second thought, a boy. No, that wasn't quite right either. He was as short as a boy, but his proportions were that of a man... A halfling! His foot was stuck in a bear trap and he was shouting, "For Enalla's sake, would one of you get me out of this thing already!" He clutched his trapped leg with both hands, as if the pain were immeasurable.

Two other figures were a little away, with a raging brown bear between them, swatting at the two ferociously. One had a sword and shield, wore leathers greaves and vambraces, and a steel cuirass across his chest. The other one was waving around a dagger, with a bow on his back and a quiver hanging from his belt. Both were human, or at least looked to be. The archer shouted back, "We're a little busy here! How did you even step in the bear trap!? I showed you the map yesterday!"
The halfling tried with all his might, to pry open the bear trap's bite. "My memory of a map doesn't do shit against a rampaging behemoth on my tail!"
The armored fellow ducked below a bear slash and said,  "Behemoth!? You're overreacting! It's not like we're dealing with an ogre!"
"I'm half as tall as you guys! A bear is an ogre to me!"

Margaret turned to me - don't say it, please don't say it - and said with steel determination in her eyes, "We have to help them." And you say it. She pointed in their direction and declared, "Save them!" 

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I'll be trying to write 2 5-page chapters a week.