A/N: Finally over. Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

Epilogue

"Three of them, you say?"

The old man nods and clamps his lips tightly around his pipe.

"Passed through at about six, half past, this morning, heading north," he mumbles around the battered looking piece of wood, shifting his weight to his other leg. He leaned back against the rundown fence. "Two boys, 'bout seventeen or so, one girl."

"What did they look like?"

The man deliberates, moistening his cracked lips with his tongue. "Tall, both of the boys," he says in a cloud of tobacco smoke. "A carrot top and a dark one. Tired looking. The dark one had glasses, I think. The girl was shorter, skinny, almost as pretty as you." He leers a little at the young woman in front of them.

She takes a very small step back under his gaze. "Thank you," she says smoothly. "I appreciate your help." She turns to leave.

"What are you doing on your own out here, anyway?"

She turns back slightly, smiling, her red hair gently moving in the breeze.

"I'm reclaiming something that's mine."

The old man harrumphs and coughs a little, chewing on his pipe. "Look a little young to be traveling alone."

"I can take care of myself." She starts to leave, then turns and heads back.

"The dark boy," she pauses, uncertain of how to proceed. "Did he look – could you tell if – did he look – happy?"

The old man shrugs. "Not one way or the other, as far as I could tell." He draws on his pipe and thinks. He remembers something. "Couldn't keep his eyes off the girl, though. Boys, eh?"

She swallows. "Yeah. Boys. Thank you."

She turns and walks away. The man blinks. He must not have slept well the night before, because he could swear that she disappears into thin air at the top of the hill. He coughs, dismisses it as idle fancy, and goes back inside his cottage.