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reinforced by the lack of people. Hatcher paused as he reached the fountain and Alicenoted his stance had changed. He’d lost the aspect of a sniffing dog. His axe was in his hand, the knuckles tight around the handle.
    The scent of bread was stronger here, as the baker was directly opposite. Alice reached for her own little knife, resolutely ignoring her rumbling stomach.
    â€œIt’s not right,” Hatcher said. “Where are they?”
    â€œWhat if we look inside?” Alice asked. “Maybe they are only wary of strangers. They
are
alone here in a valley on the edge of a desert. New folk likely don’t pass this way often.”
    â€œI suppose,” Hatcher said, and he sounded very grumbly, “this means you want me to put away my axe again.”
    Alice laughed, a short laugh that surprised the tension out of her. She tucked her knife away. “Wouldn’t you prefer to meet some slightly suspicious but otherwise kindhearted villagers rather than be forced to hack your way through a population of enemies?”
    Hatcher only grunted at this, which Alice took to mean that either option would be welcome. She wondered how he’d subdued his impulses when in the hospital, then realized with a shock that he had not suppressed them at all. Many a night Alice fell asleep to the sound of Hatcher punching the padded wall, punching so steadily and determinedly that she’d been certain one day his hand would emerge on her side like a sprouted fungus.
    Alice’s first inclination was to explore the bakery, where shehoped to both meet a friendly baker and fill her stomach. She and Hatcher climbed the steps and peered through the window. Rows of cakes and breads were arrayed on shelves, but no one was visible through the glass. By silent and mutual consent they tried the door. It gave easily under Alice’s hand. Hatcher had put his axe away but he had a tense, coiled look, ready to spring.
    â€œHello?” Alice called.
    There was no movement to be heard from the room beyond, no indication whatever that anyone was present. Yet the goods all appeared freshly baked, and they certainly smelled that way. Alice staggered a little, her hunger overwhelming her.
    â€œHello?” she called again.
    She had a strange thought, that perhaps the people of this village didn’t speak her language and couldn’t understand what she was saying.
But they still should have responded to my call,
she thought.
They would hardly cower under a table simply because they did not understand “hello.”
    Alice and Hatcher looked at each other, the same thought in their eyes.
    â€œI suppose it would be all right to take some food if we left money,” Alice said hopefully.
    â€œI still have some of the trader’s gold,” Hatcher said.
    Alice spotted an enormous slice of yellow cake with a thick layer of lavender frosting atop it. A little moan escaped her lips. Yellow cake and colored frosting, her favorite.
    The cake was crammed in her mouth before she even realizedshe’d crossed the room. Sweetness exploded on her tongue—the soft moist crumble of cake, the thick, melty butteriness of frosting. A moment later the entire slice was gone and Alice’s head was rushing, swimming in sugar and ecstasy. She sank to the floor and waited for the dizzy spell to pass.
    She soon felt herself again, and glanced at Hatcher, embarrassed at her behavior. She needn’t have bothered worrying, as Hatcher was on the floor opposite her, surrounded by things he’d pulled from the shelves. He was busy stuffing his face and took no notice of her whatsoever.
    Alice stood slowly and chose two loaves of bread and some paper to cover them. She wrapped one loaf in its entirety, then broke the other in two, saving half for later. She ate the other half carefully, chewing and savoring.
    No person appeared in all the time Hatcher and Alice were in the baker’s—not the shopkeeper nor any