Basket or no, the afternoon passed uneventfully. Customers came, customers left. By late afternoon, all three shepherds had begun to relax, to let down their guard. Rae stretched her legs out; Nessa did not readjust the fleece; Mop, thinking they would need to eat before starting home, even stepped away to buy dinner with the coins they had earned. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “I’ll find us something delicious. Another pancake, perhaps?” he whispered to Rae. “Extra dates?”

She nodded, grinning, and listened to his footsteps thud away. This late in the day, the market crowds had thinned. She wished she could go with him, just to see what remained.

She closed her eyes, half dozing, waiting for the pancake. After a little while, she heard a new customer arrive.

“Fleece? Cheese?” said Nessa above her.

“Neither,” said a low voice. Rae glanced between the boards; she could see a booted foot.

The booted figure cleared his throat. “I understand you had a child with you today.”

Rae felt Nessa stiffen beside her.

“A child?” Nessa, her voice shaking, stretched the question out.

The boots sighed. “Yes. I was told you had a child. The couple who sells the fleece and cheese. Several people saw you with a young girl.”

Nessa looked quickly down, her eyes round with fear. A peculiar laugh came from her throat. “Ah, I am far too old for children.” Nessa gestured at her hair, her face; she slumped a little to suggest agedness and infirmity. She made her voice thinner. “How could I care for a child?”

“Y-yes.” The boots shifted uncomfortably. “I suppose that’s… true.” He half leaned over the booth. Rae held her breath. She was not entirely covered. If he leaned too far, he would see her.

The booted legs stiffened. “What’s in the basket?”

“The basket?”

“Yes, there. That basket. Let me see.”

“Ah.” Nessa, glancing down, met Rae’s eyes. She shuffled to the basket and carried it slowly back to the table. “Here you are.”

“Wolf pelt?” said the boots after a moment. “What’s a shepherd need with wolf pelt?”

Wolf pelt. The ragged thing Myntas had taken out of the basket. Rae shuddered, thinking again of the suffocating, nightmarish smell that had risen from the reeds.… Oh, what if it were her wolf?

“Winter is cold for an old woman. Wolf makes a good jacket—” Nessa began to explain, but the man was not really looking for an answer.

Handing the basket back to her, he exhaled. “There’s no one here but you. Perhaps I have the wrong shepherd. I was told a couple. A man and a woman.”

“Yes,” Nessa agreed quickly. “I am all alone.”

But even as Ness said this, Rae could hear Mop approaching. The slight limp, his stiff knee, the wound from the boar that still troubled him—it was distinctive, that sound. Stop! she thought. Don’t come back yet.

“I was told the shepherd sings. That he’s well known for his songs.”

“Well, that’s certainly not me.” Nessa’s voice crackled with frailty. She rested her fingers on her throat. “My voice cannot carry at all.”