Breakfast

 “Look! Look! Is that-!?” Clair cut herself off as she waved emphatically at the caravan. Monty had led them to a small diner that bustled with a few dozen customers enjoying brunch. Mumps had gone ahead inside to double check for a sign of Dravis while Clair was to wait around the corner. Of course, the sound of a snorting horse had caught her attention and she had ducked around the corner before Measles had even realized, quickly running after her.

The trio of large covered waggons that sat behind the small restaurant, parked in place with the horses tied beside, drinking from water basins that had been generously filled. The impressive size of the travelling carts was around fifteen feet long, not counting the twin bars that stuck out the front to hitch the horses. Each sported a wide bench that went the width of them, and three simple cushions nailed into each to make the presumably long trips more bearable.

On the other side of the caravan was a market, still a bit sleepy and quiet as many of the vendors were still setting up for noontime sales. Clair and Measles took care to not wander too close and potentially be spotted by passersby, but the size of the middle caravan that Clair had walked up to and gawked at was more than large enough to keep them from prying eyes.

“Wow... you really are excited about caravans,” Measles teased, an elbow poking Clair in the thigh.

“Well, they're just so... big!” Clair tried and failed to explain, gesturing with her hands outstretched to the covered waggon closest to her. She looked down to see Measles' almost blank stare, only her lips quivering as she fought back a smirk or laugh. “And shut up. Before yesterday, I didn't know if you were telling the truth about horses being real,” she rolled her eyes, chuckling in her own self-awareness and roughly ruffling Measles' hair in return.

“Heh, yes, children do love when we come to town,” laughed a voice from inside the caravan Clair had been waving at. Clair and Measles suddenly shut up, freezing in place as they realized their back and forth had been heard. “If you're okay with it, your daughter can come and look insi-” The voice halted immediately as its owner popped her head around and realized his mistake. She looked somewhere between Clair's and Measles' age, hoisting a crate of carrots. She set them down and hopped out of the back, grabbing it again before turning back to them. Her hair clung to her skin, a bit of sweat keeping it there, as her face reddened slightly, blending her light freckles into the rest of her cheeks. “I'm terribly sorry,” she quickly apologized after a hesitation. “You see, we get a lot of kids here, and they like to see, and sometimes go inside, and look, and watch, and-” she rambled, clearly embarrassed.

“No, no,” Measles interrupted her. “Your only mistake is thinking that Clair here is not a child,” she laughed.

“Hey!” Clair protested, pouting at the remark.

The girl looked between the two of them, back and forth, before realizing that Measles was joking. She let out a chuckle with her sigh of relief. “Oh, good, good,” she nervously laughed, leaning in closer. “Last time I angered a potential customer, I got quite the talking to by the merchant head. I mean, nice guy, super, really; just don't get between him and a sale.” She stepped back, looking more relieved than before. “I'm Sandra, I help out on this caravan.”

“Clair, Measles,” Measles said, hooking a thumb at Clair then herself, getting the vaguest of introductions out of the way. “Say, you're not heading west, are you? Monty mentioned that you were going to the capital. Mind if we joined for a while?” she asked brazenly.

Clair and Sandra stared at her, mouths gaping. Clair, because she could not believe that Measles would just ask to join the caravan like that, but Sandra for a completely different reason. “Y-You want to join!?” she excitedly asked. “Yes! I'm sure the head merchant would let you! We just lost a pair of girls two towns over. Blasted ogres,” she groaned.

“Ogres? Ogres are real!?” Clair finally spoke up, tales of vicious horned monsters that Measles had told her would come get her if she didn't eat her vegetables now running through her mind.

“...Yes?” Sandra slowly replied with a eyebrow raised in confusion. “Horrible flirts. Three days in town and the bratty princesses thought they had found the loves of their lives. Good riddance, honestly,” she huffed.

Clair would have gotten the sense the afore mentioned girls didn't get along with Sandra even before that, but her mind was overtaken by a strong cognitive dissonance. She didn't speak up, just staring at Sandra open mouthed and confused. She suddenly whirled around, grabbing Measles by the back of her cloak and yanking her around.

The goblin let out a sudden but not at all surprised grunt as she was nearly choked by the motion, pulled into a huddle with Clair while Sandra watched their hushed conversation with confusion.

“Measles... What exactly are orges?” Clair asked, the words slow and deliberate as her eyes reeled in bewilderment.

“Hmm? What? You mean the, although slightly horned, otherwise tall and generally handsome and refined human looking beings that live east of here?” she answered, feigning ignorance.

“You mean to tell me that ogres are handsome men, and not bulbous green monsters that stew and eat children for not listening!?” Clair quickly asked, grinding her teeth in frustration.

“Why, Clair... whatever gave you that idea?”

“Measles, I am going to kill you,” Clair growled.

“If you do that, an ogre will come and eat you,” she snickered, sticking out her tongue, cheeky at seeing how seriously Clair had taken the coercive stories to heart.

“Why, if I could-” Clair started, only to be cut off by Mumps appearing around the corner.

“There you are!” he exclaimed, looking and sounding worried, sending a pang of guilt through Clair as she remembered they were supposed to wait where they were. “The place looks safe, no sign of... him,” he finished, eyeing Sandra suspiciously. “They have all sorts of food, and it seems that we have enough to pay for it,” he elaborated, holding up the coin bag Clair had passed to him before he went inside. “They're making us eggs and bacon and toast!”

“Bacon?” Clair repeated the word, unsure of what that was.

“BACON!?” Measles echoed her brother with much more gusto, very much aware of what that was. “I haven't tasted that since, well... before! You'll like it, Clair,” she grinned, more than Clair had ever recalled seeing her do before.

“Is it... is it like chicken?” she asked, intrigued but apprehensive.

“Yes,” nodded Mumps.

“No!” replied Measles at the exact same time. She shot a look at her brother. “It's very different from chicken.”

§

“This is nothing like chicken!” Clair moaned as she ravenously chewed her second slice of thick cut bacon, fatty juices running down her chin and threatening to drip before she quickly wiped with her sleeve. “Why did we never eat this?” she hastily asked, not thinking the question through.

“Well, miss Clair, we never had pigs.” Mumps' reply was polite but quick as he tore into a third slice of his own.

“This comes from pigs?” Clair mumbled back.

“What?” Measles smirked, reaching for a fourth slice. “Did you think that pigs also weren't re-”

“Of course I knew pigs were re-ACK!” Clair tried to snap back before choking. She grabbed the glass of milk and chugged it, forcing the half-chewed meat down, keeping everything in her mouth.

As she slowly looked around, she realized that there were a few pairs of eyes her way; their intention of laying low was being self-sabotaged by the attention their hasty way of eating was attracting. She slowly put down her hands, delicately taking a piece of toast from the plate it was served on and putting it onto her own, previously unsullied, plate.

“Hey, slow down,” she harshly whispered to the other two as the gobbled eggs like they hadn't eaten in days, which by human standards, was not too far off from how they felt. Measles nodded, looking at Clair's plate, and following the example, scooping half of the eggs into a small mountain that threatened to spill over. Mumps looked up, glancing around, silently noticing the cause of Clair's concern. He nodded, slowly grabbing three pieces of bread and adding them to his own plate.

The diner quickly resumed its previous ambiance, most of the customers losing their previous curiosity of the trio.

“So, do you think the king's knights will make it out this far?” The man's voice came from behind Clair, asking someone else from how it sounded he was facing. She quickly glanced behind and saw the man sitting with a young woman who poked at her food in a bored manner.

“Hmm... I doubt it,” she shrugged back, the tone clear enough that Clair could tell without even looking behind anymore.

“Well, the ogres have been sending more messengers through here. Rumour is they're threatening to push the border,” he continued, a bit more hushed, like it was some exciting secret.

“That so?” she asked back, voice devoid of any interest whatsoever.

“Tabby, you know how I feel about them. If King Gil and Queen Delia don't do something, this town could border ogre land.”

“Ha!” the woman snorted, the first genuine sound so far from her. “You know how the royals are: they don't care out us out here. Besides, it's just the two of them. No heirs.” The last part came out oddly, as if it was some sort of joke beyond Clair's grasp.

“Aye, no heirs,” the man replied in agreement, sounding more forlorn than amused. His voice took on a more grim note as he added, “...and long may they reign.”

Clair listened intently, taking it in. Head half turned, taking another bite of toast, she reached for the jug the server had left them to pour more milk but found she was holding only an empty pitcher. She shot a quick stink eye at Mumps who pretended to not to see it, hiding his face behind a full cup.

“Well, I'm getting some more to drink.” She rose, trying not to make too much noise as the chair skid across the floor, and took the pitcher toward the counter as she had seen another patron do a moment ago. On one side of the restaurant was a counter open to both the kitchen and dining area, with food being passed through and servers grabbing filled serving plates as it was prepared, while patrons helped themselves to the beverages constantly being refilled on the side, returning the empty pitchers in their place. Beside it was the counter where a hostess stood, greeting diners as they came in and showing them to a table.

Clair queued up behind two others as they stood patiently, the first taking a pitcher of orange juice as soon as it arrived. The second stepped forward and grabbed water, clearing to the side for Clair. She approached the counter, exchanging the empty jug of milk for a full one before turning back. A stray glance through the window caught her eye.

“Eek!” she yelped as she nearly dropped the pitcher, barely managing not to spill it as she ducked behind the hostess' counter. The woman standing there, about a decade her senior, let out a surprised grunt as she looked down at the girl knocking into her legs.

“Hey! This isn't the place to be play-!”

“Please!” Clair cut off her complaint, urging her with a hushed whisper and fearful look. “I'm begging you, that man there. He's after me?”

The woman's expression softened as she quickly nodded. “Hmm, stay there then. Most folks are just passing by,” she whispered, trying to look discrete. Clair sighed with relief as she appeared to find a sympathetic soul. “Ok, you should be- Hello!” she started to whisper before apparently greeting someone.

“Aye, morning.”

The voice sent an icy chill down Clair's spine. Her blood froze while her hair stood up on end. She clapped a hand over her mouth as a frightened squeal threatened to loose itself.

“Well, it's nearly noon now, Dravis,” the woman chuckled casually as if talking to any other person.

She knows him... he's from here? Clair tried to puzzle out, some small part of her inquisitive mind still whirling away while the rest of her huddled up petrified. She glanced in the direction of the table she, Measles, and Mumps were at, thankful that it was out of view of the stand she was now scrunched behind.

“Heh, I suppose it is, Susan,” Clair heard the hunter's voice reply. “Afraid I can't stay though, just passing through again. How were those wild boars I caught last week?” His voice was light and casual, so unlike the other night that Clair felt like she was hearing someone almost copying him with none of the same threatening intonation her brief encounter had shown her.

“Oh, they were delicious. Just finished cooking the last of their bacon this morning for some newcomers; they practically shovelled it in,” she laughed lighted.

“Aye, newcomers?” Dravis casually remarked. “Glad t'was enjoyed.” The floor creaked, as if he was stepping away, but stopped, the tension in the boards holding in the middle of their note. “Say... I'm actually looking for some passerbyers,” he slowly remarked. “A girly, 'bout seventeen, travelling with a couple o' goblins probably. You seen them pass through last night? Or today?” he asked, his tone even and measured, speaking as if it had only occurred to him in the moment. “...my niece, ya see,” he tacked on as warmly as his voice was capable.

“Oh, well, I-Ahem-” she quickly coughed, clearing her throat as she suddenly felt something tugging, yanking on her dress. She reached around and quickly scratched the back of her neck, stealing a look down. Clair met her eyes, her own wide and frightful, silently pleading as she hastily shock her head.

“...Can't say I have, only regulars in today,” she sighed, an air of disappointment straining her voice ever so slightly.

“Ah, well,” the floor resumed its creak, “let her know her parents are looking for her. If she comes by, that is.” Clair couldn't shake the tremble that permeated her as he said that last part, his voice laden with knowing. She huddled, hugging the milk pitcher tightly, staring blankly ahead.

“Hey... he's gone,” the woman, Susan, slowly said after a brief wait. “Are you really his niece?”

“Huh? What? ...uh, no,” Clair slowly answered as she stayed where she was, too terrified to stand up. “Is he gone? Like really gone? What if he comes back? What-”

“Hey now, hey now.” Susan spoke softly as she placed a gentle hand on Clair's shoulder. “It's okay. You're okay. You're safe now.” She took a breath. “What's all this about? Are you in trouble?”

“What? No! I didn't do anything! He just-” she cut herself off to take a deep breath. She paused, collecting her thoughts and thinking over what exactly to say. “Who is he?” she finally asked.

“Oh, he's Dravis. He's a hunter who lives in a cottage just a bit north of here, or so he says, about a full day's walk,” she trailed off, seemingly thinking it over. “He comes in every few weeks or once a month to sell his catches, buy stuff, the usual.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “He's been coming here... what, a decade... and a half? Maybe two?” she questioned. “Nice guy, though a bit of an odd tone.”

“I... I see,” Clair slowly digested the information. A cottage north of here... for that long... He never left! she realized with a start, Measles' and Mumps' assumption wrong this whole time. She quickly stood, droplets of milk spilling out as she rushed to the table, Susan quickly stepping out of the way.

“Ah, good; I was worried there was no more! I'm parched,” Measles greeted her as she held up an empty cup for Clair to fill, a cheeky grin stretched across her face.

Clair ignored it, setting the pitched down on the table, much to Measles' grimace while Mumps just rolled his eyes at his sister's antics. The goblin girl reached to grab for the jug but failed as her hand was quickly pushed away. “Hey!” she growled, shooting Clair a dirty look. “There's enough for al- What's wrong?” she started to complain until she looked Clair in the face, seeing finally the scared expression.

Mumps took notice of his sister's tone, dropping his fork as he too looked at Clair. “Miss Clair? What is it?” he quickly asked.

“He's here,” she just replied, unsure what say. “He's always been here.”

“Who, miss Clair? Dravis?” Mumps asked in a hushed tone, grabbing absently as the edges of his cloak, knuckles whitening from the grip.

“You mean he's from this town?” Measles chimed in, trying to understand.

“N-No! I'm saying that... he's always been with us! He lives a day's travel directly north of here; that would be around the tower, probably just south of it.”

Measles' and Mumps' eyes widened as they realized what she was saying.

“You mean, he never left?” Mumps quickly asked. “Froukle!” he cussed in a panic.

“...And he's been there the whole time. Just waiting,” Measles echoed as her ears lay down flat against the sides of her head.

“Yes! If he's a hunter, then clearly we're his prey,” Clair frantically elaborated, barely keeping her tone low enough that she avoided drawing attention. “I don't know why, but since we got away and dealt with the dragon, he-”

No sooner then the word came out of her mouth did she hear a sound that she thought she would never have to endure again. Not so much of a voice, but a yell, resonating deep in her chest, causing every hair on her body to stand on end. The twins' eyes went wide, terror filling their faces unlike they had ever experienced before.

RRROOOOOOAAAAARRRRRRRRRR!!!!