“You need a place to rest?” Gawain mused, looking over the farm from where he stood on the border. There weren’t very many places to hide a posse of witches, as there were a small number of buildings to begin with. Of course, Simon’s house was out of the question. The old man rarely even let [i]him[/i] take shelter beneath the roof unless there was a storm out; he would never allow magic-users inside. If Gawain tried to hide the women there, Simon would have him strung up the instant he stepped through the door. So, with the house ruled out, it seemed that he would have to bring the witches to the only other reasonably safe building on the farm.

“Follow me,” Gawain said to Morgana. He glanced furtively over his shoulder to make sure that there were still no knights in the area and then led the witches across the field. Even though he hadn’t seen any guards, he still moved quickly. As long as they were standing on the open ground among the crops, he knew that there was still a chance that someone might spot them, and that thought alone was enough to bring swiftness to his steps until they reached cover on the other side.

Once there, Gawain directed the witches over to the stables where Simon kept his horses and cows… and his farmhand. Since the old man owned a small house that lacked a guest room, Gawain had been living with the animals as long as he had been on the farm. He never minded much—though the smell had taken some time to get used to—and even found it to be enjoyable at times. In a way, the stables had become his own private place where he could get away from the stresses of work and life in general, and it was for this reason that he wasn’t very keen on having the witches move in with him.

Nevertheless, Gawain unlatched the door and held it aside for the women to enter first, “I warn you, the animals don’t have the nicest fragrance, but then again I suppose you can’t be picky when you’re on the run.” He stepped inside the stables after the witches, latched the door behind him, and then crossed over to sit down in the clean pile of hay, his makeshift bed, where he had been resting before the whole ordeal began. He settled down and leaned back, propping his head up on his arms so he could watch the witches as they moved about.

“So,” Gawain said. “I’ve given you what you want. I take it that means I can rest easy and not have to worry about being murdered in my sleep?” His tone dripped with sarcasm, as he was tired and irritable about having to harbor the women in his own, personal sanctuary. In the rational part of his mind, he knew that they could still kill him, but at this point he didn’t care much. He just wanted to be rid of them as soon as possible. And besides, who knew? Perhaps he would get lucky again and his bitter words would drive the magic-users away. He let out his breath in a quiet sigh. If only it were that simple.