Merissa opened her eyes slowly, and blinked in the bright sunlight streaming through the small window above her bed. She sat up, rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and looked around, forgetting for a moment where she was.

It took a second for her to remember-the bandits, her capture, and all the rest. It was the boy's house she was in-more of a hut than anything else, really. It was a low, squat building, with turf for walls and a thatched roof that sloped nearly to the ground. It was on the edge of a small clearing, only a few yards away from where the grass and wild flowers gave way to the old, massive trees of Greatwood.

Inside, there was enough room inside for the cot she was sleeping on, and across from that, a small fireplace made of clay. Between the two was a small, square table littered with tools, roots, and herbs. All together, the place was small and cramped, but cozy.

There was a soft noise coming from outside, and she peeked out the window. She was just in time to catch a glimpse the boy disappearing into the gloom beyond the trees, a woodcutting axe slung over his shoulder. She still didn't know his name; he hadn't said a word to her since last night.

Merissa moved to get out of bed, and immediately wished she hadn't. A sharp stabbing of pain lanced out from the base of her skull, her head feeling as if it were about split. She flopped back down into the cot, but the pain remained, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to block it out. It died down soon, but didn't go away completely. As soon as she felt she was able, Merissa opened her eyes again.

Outside, she could hear the faint sound of wood being chopped in conjunction with the soft rustle of leaves blowing in the wind. The chopping stopped a few minutes later, and was soon replaced by the sound the boy's footsteps approaching the hut. A flap of thick burlap that served as a door was moved aside, and the boy entered, a load of wood tucked under his arm. He moved towards the fireplace, deposited the logs on the floor, and then brushed his hands off on the legs of his pants. He turned to look at her, and tucked his thumbs behind his belt.

"How do you feel?"

Merissa blinked. He spoke differently than he had last night; his voice was now more flat, and almost cold. She pulled the rough wool blanket (the same one from the camp) up to her chin.

"My head hurts," she said quietly.

The boy took the few steps over to the bedside, then kneeled down and took Merissa's head in his hands, checking her skull for bumps. Finding none, he began examining her eyes, pulling the lids apart so she couldn't blink. Merissa didn't know what he was doing, and squirmed at such close proximity and unfamiliar examination.

He stood up, and moved to his herb table. A few minutes later, he grabbed a small kettle, and dropped a handful of dried leaves into it. He went out side for a moment, then came back in and hung the kettle in the fireplace. He began to poke and blow at the embers, and soon, the fire was blazing.

Merissa watched with keen interest. She knew there were people in Tinker's Valley who sold herbs, and her Grandfather knew a few of them, but this boy seemed to know a great deal about them.

"What are you doing?" she asked. The boy ignored her, and simply continued prodding the fire.

After a few minutes, the kettle was boiling, and the boy removed it from the fire. He carefully covered the opening of a large wooden cup with a piece of cloth, and began to slowly pour out the contents of the kettle. When he was finished, he bundled up the cloth and squeezed it above the cup, forcing any liquid left to drain out.

He picked up the cup, carried it to Merissa's bedside, and held it out to her. She took it, and gave it a suspicious sniff. To her surprise, the dark liquid smelled strangely like peppermint.

"What is this?"

"Wood betony and chamomile," he said. "It will help your headache. Drink it all. If your head still hurts in an hour, I'll make you some more." He turned, and made his way outside.

"Call if you need anything," he said, and was gone.

"Wait…" Merissa began to say, but let the word die unfinished. Her head hurt too much; she would ask his name later.

She took a tentative sip of the tea, and found it bitter, but tolerable. She settled back in the cot, sipping her tea, and thinking. Her grandfather's friend had expected her to arrive before now; Merissa wondered how long it would be before he contacted her grandfather, and how long before anyone came looking for her. She sighed, and was overcome with a sudden longing for the familiar sights and sounds of the farmhouse.

Soon, her eyelids began to droop, and Merissa (who had only been awake a few minutes and not particularly tired before drinking her tea), yawned. She drained her cup, and laid back into the cot, her breathing becoming deep and regular.

"Must be…the tea…." She yawned, shut her eyes, and was asleep.

Plip…

She woke, eyes snapping open, her breath forced out in a single gasp, heart beating like mad. The dteam.

It was dark, and for a horrible moment she thought she was still asleep, still dreaming, still back there. But then her eyes adjusted, and she realized that she could hear the boy crouched near the fireplace. He was feeding logs into the fire, the flames snapping and popping, loud in the silence. A cricket was chirping somewhere outside her window.

"Are you all right?" the boy asked quietly, without turning away from the fire.

"I…had a nightmare," Merissa whispered.

"Was it bad?"

Merissa bit her lip.

"It was…about my parents…."

Silence.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Merissa blinked, and realized that she had begun to cry. She wiped at the tears out of her eyes, and sniffed loudly.

"It's okay," she said, "It was a long time ago." She gave a final sniff, and a thick stillness fell over the hut. Merissa looked at the boy from behind her blanket, trying to discern what he was thinking as he stared into the flames.

"Who are you?" she asked softly, after what seemed an eternity of silence.

He shifted slightly to look at her, his face obscured in shadow.

"My name is Jareth," he said, and turned back to the fire.

"Do you…" Merissa began to say, then bit her lip. "I mean, have you always…lived out here…alone?" For a while, Jareth didn't seem to hear her; then, he nodded: once, slowly.

"Why? Isn't that…well…lonely?"

Jareth didn't answer her; instead, he stood up, and wiped his hands on his pant legs.

"Go to sleep," he said, still facing the small fire, his voice cold. "There's more tea in the kettle, if you need it. Good night." He turned, and without another word, walked out of the hut and disappeared into the darkness outside.

Merissa didn't see Jareth at all the next day, or the day after that. Her headaches grew less and less painful as the time went by, and soon she wasn't having them at all.

The first time she could get out of bed without mind-splitting agony, her legs nearly gave out beneath her. Her wrists and ankles were still red and swollen from being tied together, and had a fair number of cuts and bruises on them. They had hurt a great deal at first, but Merissa had woken several times to find them wrapped in bandages that smelled strongly of herbs, and both the swelling and the pain had died down considerably.

It wasn't long before she began to feel like her old self again, and soon Merissa began longing for a bath and some fresh clothes.

It was her fourth day in Jareth's care that she finally saw him again, and he led her to a stream not far from the hut.

"It gets to be about waist high in the middle," he said, not looking at her, " and it doesn't run too fast. Just watch out for sinkholes and you'll be fine."

When Merissa asked if the sinkholes were dangerous, he tucked his thumbs behind his belt and shook his head.

"Not really…they're more likely to startle you than anything else, but you could sprain your ankle if you're not careful." His eyes-Merissa could now see that they were brown-gave a quick scan of the sky and tree line.

"Don't stay out too long," he said, and his eyes locked with hers, sending a shiver down Merissa's spine.

"A lot of animals come here for water, and they don't trust strangers." He walked off somewhere in the direction of the hut, and Merissa was left by herself. She shivered again-those eyes. The look he had given her was intense, and it's meaning was as clear as day: You've been warned.

She undressed quickly, feeling self-conscious even though she was alone. She took a few cautious steps into the water, yelping at how cold it was before plunging in and wading out to the center.

She washed quickly, and would have even without Jareth's warning. The water was freezing, and by the time she climbed out of the stream, her teeth were chattering. The sun was warm, though, and soon she was busy scrubbing her clothes in an attempt to wash out the smell of sweat, dirt and smoke that had seemed to ingrain itself in the fabric.

Soon, the clothes are hung on a branch to dry, Merissa dozing not far away on a patch of grass

Lying there, in the sun, clean and refreshed from her bath, skin glowing and hair like spun gold in the bright light, Merissa felt better than she had since she'd left the farm. A slight breeze made the leaves of nearby trees rustle pleasantly, and the whole forest smelled fresh and vibrantly alive. Merissa breathed the scent in deeply. Closing her eyes and yawning, she stretched her limbs luxuriously, almost wishing that this moment wouldn't end…but knowing that it would all the same.

She opened her eyes, and checked her clothes to see if they had dried. They had. She took them down off the branch, dressed, and made her way back to the hut. As pleasant as her time with Jareth had been (despite the boy's distant nature), it had to end. She needed to move on, if for no other reason than to reach her grandparents and to let them know that she was all right. She resolved to speak to Jareth and make plans to leave as soon as possible.

Merissa needn't have worried; Jareth had already made arrangements for them to leave the next morning.

"I'll lead you as far as the edge of the road," he said, and to Merissa's great surprise, sat down to share a cup of tea with her. He seemed to be in a much better mood than before.

"After that, you just follow it straight to Tinker's Valley." He blew on his tea, took a careful sip, and began to draw a crude map on a piece of bark.

"Right now, the road is a bit east of here, but at this point it'll be shorter to just head north, hit the road where it turns west." Jareth pointed to a spot near the middle of the map.

"Right about here is the home of a friend of mine. We'll stop there for the night, and head out early the next morning. Another half a day's walk takes us to the road." He leaned back, letting Merissa see the drawings, and sipped his tea.

"You'll be in New Haven by nightfall, and after that, Tinker's Valley is only a few days away. Sound good?"

Merissa could only nod, and stare dumbly. It was the most he'd said since she'd met him.

"Good," he said, and drained his cup.

He got up to leave, but Merissa's hand on his arm stopped him.

"Wait…you said Tinker's Valley?"

"Yes, it's a town not far past the-"

"No no no," Merissa said, and giggled. Jareth, eyebrow raised, stared back.

"I know where it is…" Merissa continued, "…but you said Tinker's Valley."

"So?"

"So…they renamed it a few years back. Don't you ever leave this place? It's called Harper's Valley now, after that minstrel who…who…"

Whatever Merissa was going to say never got past her lips, dying, instead, under Jareth's withering stare. Those eyes of his were hard, and whatever good mood he might have had was now gone.

"We leave at dawn," he said, his voice colder than ever. He thrust the door-flap aside and, for the second time, left Merissa alone and confused inside his hut.