| "I'm sorry," said Astra, "but - much as I would like to - I am afraid
I cannot accept your kind offer. If you like, I am something of a hermit
myself, and I avoid all company. If your home is at the head of the valley
– Hermitage Pass, I think you called it - then I must go a different way,
perhaps up into the mountain country on the opposite side of the valley
to Dagger Ridge." Simon gave her a shrewd look. "I think there is more
to this than you are telling. From your speech and your bearing, you are
not one of the common people, which makes your presence in such a remote
place as this even stranger. It's up to you, of course, but you might feel
better if you unburdened yourself. A trouble shared is a trouble halved,
they say. In any case, you might at least tell me your name."
"I'm Astra," she said simply. She sensed that the old man would not be impressed by her title. In any case, she felt that her lycanthropy brought disgrace upon the royal house of Aquilaria and that she should no longer consider herself a member of it. "And?" prompted Simon. Suddenly she realised that he was right. She would feel better if she told him. Taking a deep breath, she said: "I have been cursed with lycanthropy. I have spent the last two nights, when the moon has been full, as a wolf-woman. The moon will be full again tonight. I must stay away from all people, for fear of what I might do. I've never ever been frightened of anything, but I'm afraid now. And the most frightening aspect is that the first evening as the moon rose I was dreading the transformation, but that last night I found myself half welcoming it." "You poor child," said Simon. It was many years since anyone had called Astra a child, but from this old man it seemed somehow appropriate. "But you can safely stay in the valley. This spot is several hours' journey from my hut, and if you didn't come near it during the last two nights then why should you tonight? And if it will reassure you, I promise to bar my door on the inside." "But yesterday morning I spotted a wisp of smoke from a fire in the direction of the fens. I fear that whoever made it may soon enter the valley. I would have left the valley yesterday had I not twisted my ankle." "It is very unlikely that travellers would enter the valley. As I said, it is almost ten years since my last visitor before you. The fire was most probably lit by a Sicarii sentry. The Sicarii are bandits who patrol the borders of the fens, and let no-one pass without paying a toll. They are a bloodthirsty bunch, but they never enter the valley, since they have learnt that the only person who ever comes here is me, and I have no money or valuables to give them. Whilst I imagine a fair number of people pass through the fens, none ever head for – or come from – this valley." "But I have reason to think that friends may be seeking me. If so, then they must not find me – at least, not before tomorrow, when the danger will be over till the next full moon."
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