DAY 22

Amy watched in amazement as Runner wriggled in the noose. She felt herself quickly getting wet as Runner jerked and rotated her hips. Amy was letting her go three minutes now, and it appeared she could go longer. The development of her form, in imitation of Amy but without any formal instruction, was equivalent to that of a First Year after about three months, Amy judged.

Amy grasped her gently at the hips and let Runner's feet find the log, ending the practice session. As Amy untied her wrists, Runner twisted around to kiss Amy, her glowing face projecting an emotion that Amy understood very well. Amy herself had felt it just minutes earlier, after her own hanging practice. Having taught Runner to tie a knot, Amy was able to hang with her hands bound, and she now could practice without having to spare part of her concentration to keep her fingers wrapped tight around her wrist. It made her feel that much more free as she danced in the air. Runner was sufficiently aware of Amy's whole body while Amy was hanging, that she could easily spot Amy's foot waggle signaling Runner to help swing her back to the tree stump on which she stood before and after hanging.

Two days ago they had turned south, following the coast, headed for either Liberty or Fairhold -- Amy didn't know which town was the nearer -- after Amy's capture and escape. With Tradition alerted to the presence of two escaped slaves, one of whom could be described accurately by a man with a killer headache, Amy didn't want to remain anywhere in the vicinity. Knowing Purity, the largest of the coastal trading communities, lay to the north, Amy had decided to head the other direction.

They should have arrived yesterday, despite Amy's always-labored progress with her hobble chain, but they had to detour around a large farm co-op occupying land much too close to the beach to sneak past on the sands, and then a deluge of rain had caused hours of delay as they waited near the bank of a swollen, hard-rushing river that even Runner, with no chain such as Amy's interfering with her movements, had been reluctant to try crossing by herself, let alone carrying Puppy. Nightfall had come with the river still uncrossed, the rain not slackening until sometime after sunset.

By morning the rain had receded to a heavy mist, and the river, far from menacing, was a slow, shallow trickle. They crossed it, feet (and booties, for Puppy) squelching in the mud, before looking for breakfast and a place to work on hanging.

As Runner hopped down from the stump, Amy shaded her eyes from an unexpected burst of morning sunlight from over the water and peered off in the distance, out to sea and along the shoreline. She nudged Runner, who was just finishing dressing, and pointed. "There! See that... it's like a bridge, but it just goes a little way out into the water and stops?" Runner had learned about bridges as they followed the trail from the mountains. "When a boat comes, it will stop next to that, and they'll take things off the boat and put things on it."

Runner gaped. "Do you see any boats?" She scanned the ocean eagerly. "When will one get here?"

Amy said, with a heavy sigh, "I don't know."

DAY 25

On the morning of the fourth day of waiting, Amy began to wish they had gone to Purity after all. The town in front of her had a boat dock, about two hundred feet from where Amy and Runner sat on the ground, hidden by the deep shade of the trees, while Puppy wandered nearby, returning occasionally for some petting. So clearly the town did some direct trading with the mainland, but probably not as much as Purity, the largest of the towns. But Amy reminded herself that she didn't want to be anyplace where there were large crowds of men. On the other hand, she thought, maybe big crowds would serve as better cover. And...

Amy cut off the line of thought. We're here and we're not there, she told herself. We're safe where we are, and traveling always presents its own dangers. We'll wait it out here.

Across from her, Runner looked up from studying the game board and jumped to her feet. "Amy, what's that?" She was pointing out towards the ocean.

Amy turned and gasped. She could hear the distant growl of the engines, now. It was hard to see the boat, let alone determine what direction it was heading, the dim daylight under the usual heavy cloud cover not much help.

Looking at the dock, Amy suddenly saw increased activity. Yes! she decided, her heart pounding. It's coming here!

About fifteen minutes later, the boat had reached the dock and was tied to it. It was, Amy guessed, about a forty-footer. As the crew and townsmen cooperated in tying it to the dock, Amy looked at the still-naked Runner and gestured with her head towards Runner's clothes. "Get ready. We might need to go soon."

Runner seemed to shake herself out of a trance. She'd been staring at the boat, barely speaking, for the entire time since they'd spotted it. She nodded and began dressing.

Puppy chose this inconvenient time to begin whining. Amy held her arms out and Puppy nuzzled up against her, giving Amy's face a few licks. Amy gave her some absent caresses with her arms that seemed to satisfy Puppy for the time being.

At present, there was not much visible interaction between the boat and the locals. One of the townsmen did board the boat, talking briefly with a crewman. Probably inevitably, some local boys were attracted to the activity, starting up a game with a ball that appeared to be keep-away. Amy could hear the laughter of the kids. They were generally younger than Runner looked, none of them accompanied by slaves. Amy had no intention of trying to join the crowd until she and Runner would fit in, unnoticed. The time, if there would be one, had not come yet.

Amy's attention was caught by one man walking from one adult to another. It looked as though he was handing out flyers, or at least something that looked very much like sheets of paper. Amy wondered what news he could possibly be distributing that the men of the town didn't already know. As the man arrived at the boat and handed a copy to a crewman, then went to a nearby post and hammered a copy of the flyer to the post, an unwelcome thought passed through Amy's mind. She had a very bad feeling about this. Her eyes still glued to the scene at the dock, she reached over and touched Runner's forearm. "Runner, could you go bring me one of those things he's giving out? Just walk up to him and say, 'Could I get one of those?' " Amy looked at Puppy. "I think I'll keep Puppy with me this time. Get back here fast if you hear barking."

Runner nodded and dashed into the woods, taking a roundabout route towards the dock.

Minutes later, Amy held her breath as Runner appeared by the dock, trying to look like she belonged, worked up her courage and spoke to the man. He handed her one of the sheets and immediately turned his attention elsewhere, as she made her exit.

Soon after, Amy tensed at the sound of footsteps coming towards her, breathing easier when she saw it was Runner returning.

It was indeed a stiff sheet of paper Runner was holding, a poster. "I did what you said. He just said, 'Sure, sonny,' and gave me one." With a puzzled look, she held it towards Amy. Amy could see a drawing at the top, and her heart sank. I was right, she told herself gloomily.

Runner was brushing her fingertips across the drawing. "Amy, this is like you! Your face. Except it's flat..." She seemed about to go on, but couldn't find words. She handed the sheet to Amy.

The islanders, it appeared, had some rudimentary printing equipment. Probably no more elaborate than that of a small-town newspaper a century ago.

The drawing was indeed of Amy, a fairly decent bit of police-sketch artwork, accurate in the basic lines of her face, and including the detail of those few links of chain hanging down from the front of her collar. The men at the dock would be looking out for her now -- her specifically, not just a vaguely-suspected escaped slavegirl.

Below the drawing was the printed text:

The slave here pictured should be brought immediately to the magistrate. It may be traveling with another slave, and a stolen dog. Use extreme care in capturing it, as the other slave may attack. This slave may pretend to be from the Old Country, and may try to sound like a trader. Both slaves should be returned to Tradition for public whipping. Standard reward for each slave is hereby doubled.

Amy looked up from reading the poster aloud to Runner, to see Runner looking at her fearfully, her coppery skin slightly paled. Runner asked softly, "How is it making you say that?"

Amy looked helplessly back towards the dock, and said hoarsely, "They know about me, Runner. They know what I look like. I can't go down there. They'll see me and know I'm the girl this is talking about."

Runner was shaking her head. "Talking? It's not talking, Amy. You're talking." She was drawing away, her fear building.

Her mind on the message of the poster, it took Amy this long to understand the problem. Perhaps, she thought, I should have explained this the first time it came up. She forced a smile, holding the poster towards Runner, who backed farther away. "Runner, it's not..." She realized Runner might not know the word "magic," and failed to think of another she might use. "Runner, this is okay. It's nothing that can hurt you. See these marks?" She traced some of the letters with her fingertip. "These are called letters, and the letters together make words, like the words we use. That's a word..." she held her fingers spaced apart at the beginning and ending of one of the words of the text, "...and that's a word, and that's a word..."

Runner had stopped retreating. "You... just look at it? And it says words to you?"

"Sort of like that, but not out loud. When you've seen letters like this before, you just remember what word they make."

Runner reached out and took the poster, looking it over in fascination. "Do they teach you that at the Academy?"

Amy gave her a small smile. "We learn it before we get to the Academy. Every girl..." She stopped suddenly. How could she have been thinking Runner could just jump right into Academy classes in September, when the new First Years arrived? Reading was such a major part of their studies, and Runner was more profoundly illiterate than even a three-year-old. The smallest child at least knew what reading was, long before she could do it herself.

Not time to worry about that now, Amy told herself. First we have to get home.

And how? Amy's plan had involved identifying herself to the crew of the boat and begging for their help in returning to the mainland. Now she couldn't get near the boat without passing through a knot of island men who would recognize her from this poster. It wouldn't even help if Runner was with her.

Amy wondered again at her decision to let her captor go after Runner had knocked him out cold. If she hadn't, the men down there wouldn't be looking at this poster now.

On the other hand, the discovery of a dead slave-hunter, the unlocked trap nearby, would paint an obvious picture of something that might never have happened here before -- the murder of a man by a slavegirl. The sensation caused by that would have set off an even larger, more determined girlhunt. And Amy didn't want to imagine the sort of punishment she'd be in for if she was caught.

And she really, really didn't want to kill any man. It was nothing like snuffing a willing woman, as she had done several times. Men didn't have the satisfaction of being eaten to look forward to. Being a man had always seemed empty to Amy. But then, she'd never been one. Maybe it was different from their point of view. But a man dead was simply dead, not food. Amy couldn't bear thinking about bringing that about.

What's done is done, Amy reminded herself. I did what I did. I let him go, he set off a hunt for me, and here we are. I can't change that.

Runner was running her fingers over the text as she had earlier with the drawing. "Amy, can you teach me to hear the words?"

Amy managed another smile, in the face of her newest worry. "It takes a long time, Runner. First we need to get home." Amy wondered what meaning the word "home" had taken on in Runner's mind. Probably accurate enough, she decided, considering how I've been using it. And the Academy was going to be Runner's home. There was a staff of non-students there. Amy would make sure Runner had a place there somewhere.

Amy stretched out on the ground, on her stomach, her eyes on the dock. "We need to watch. See what they do. See if there's some time we could get to the boat without the men from the town seeing us."

Runner set the poster aside and lay down beside Amy, also watching. Puppy, catching their mood, lay quietly on the other side of Amy, rubbing up against her but not insisting on any fondling. They waited.

Over the next hour, under a slowly brightening sky, a team of slavegirls had assembled on the dock. In pairs, they had gone below decks, to what clearly must be the cargo hold, coming out with crates, two girls holding each crate by handles on either side, straining to lift them and staggering beyond Amy's view, towards town.

Amy forced herself to stop biting her lip, when the pain alerted her to the fact her teeth had scraped it raw almost to the point of bleeding. Beside her, Runner murmured, "Can you just go down with one of those girls? And then stay?"

Amy shook her head tensely. "Somebody down there knows who all those girls are. Even the girl I went with would know I don't belong there. And we have to get you and Puppy on the boat somehow too."

Runner was looking at the poster. "Does it say..." She paused, and closed her eyes, trying to remember the words. " 'This slave may pretend to be from the Old Country.'?" She looked at Amy. "Is that what you call it where you live? 'The Old Country'?"

Amy sighed. "That's what that means, yes. If I could get close to the men on the boat, if I could talk to them, they'd know where I'm from. I know too many things no girl from here knows. But the men from the town... They're all around, down there. Even if they look at me and didn't think about me being the slave on the poster, as soon as they hear me talk, they'd remember what it says. They'd know I'm the girl they're looking for. They'd drag me away and... you know."

"The men on the boat -- would they know what a Hanging Girl is?"

Amy shrugged. "They should. They probably haven't seen one, but I think everybody knows about us. But..." She gestured helplessly towards the boat. "I just can't get close enough to tell them!" Tears started streaming down her face. To be so close and not be able to get any closer! That damned trap! If only she'd remembered to wear the vine that day! If she'd worn it, no trap, no hunter, no description of her, no poster...

"Amy, you don't have to tell them! They can see you from here!"

Amy's mouth dropped open. She spun her head towards Runner so fast her neck hurt. She stared at her for a few seconds, then with a single arm-thrust she shot up onto her feet, alarming Puppy who yelped and backed away.

Her eyes wide, Amy examined the area around them. They were well-enough hidden where they were. Suddenly, Amy didn't want to be hidden. Ahead of her, the trees gave way to a bluff that led down to the beach. Cautiously, Amy shuffled to her left just behind the front line of trees. Here, she thought, this will work. Standing where she was now, she had a clear view of the boat itself, while the trees immediately to her right shielded her from observation from the dock.

She growled in frustration. She was still in heavy shade from the foliage overhead. Nobody on the boat would be able to pick her out from the dark background of the dense forest behind her. But if she stepped forward much farther, out of the deep shadows, the townsmen would spot her as soon as the boat crew did.

Looking up, she was startled to see a patch of blue sky directly overhead. There had been none for days. As Runner said, "Amy, what..." Amy held up her hand, palm outward, and Runner stopped. Amy stood still, staring upward, trying to judge where the edge of the break in the clouds was headed...

Yes! Yes! Amy looked around now, almost frantic, and pointed to a nearby log. "Runner, help me with that! We need to get it over here. I'm going to stand on it right here and we're going to hang me."

Together, both gasping with effort, they half lifted, half dragged the log into position. Amy stood on it a moment, nodded, then leapt towards the bag holding their noose. She tied it quickly to the overhanging branch, and handed Runner the short vine for securing her wrist cuffs. Amy pulled the noose down over her head and tightened it around her neck -- she had avoided showing Runner the proper placement of the noose, judging that to be an element of instruction she was not allowed to give -- then put her hands behind her back so Runner could slip the vine through the rings on her cuffs and knot it.

She stood then, as motionless as she could, maintaining her balance on the log's uneven surface.

"Amy, aren't you going to..."

Amy shook her head. "I need to wait for the sunlight. It's still too dark here for anybody to see me."

Amy had been through some long waits before, but this seemed the longest ever. Above her, she could see the ragged edge of the cloud cover creeping out ahead of her, like a paintbrush leaving a trail of electric blue behind it.

The mid-morning sun was going to be creeping steadily higher behind those clouds. If it got too high before the departing clouds uncovered it, the overhead leaves would keep it from illuminating her. Come on, she thought, come on!

On the boat, activity was beginning again, the reverse of the earlier process, as pairs of slavegirls carried crates onto the deck of the boat and took them below. Amy didn't know how long that would take, but suspected the boat would be leaving before long, its exchange of trade items completed. Two crewmen were supervising on deck, and Amy could see a third occasionally appear from below.

Amy's heart was thundering as she saw the edge of the clouds take on a silvery glow. In less than a minute it was too bright to look at.

She closed her eyes. She was trembling, much too pumped to get enough breath while hanging. Calm down, Amy, calm down. In a minute you'll be dangling. Everything will be okay. The bliss of the noose, in just a minute. Be cool, stay cool.

As the first direct sunlight burst out from behind the cloud, exposing her bare skin to its glow, she stepped off.

She hadn't taken off the hobble-chain vine -- she hardly ever did anymore -- so her kicking was even more restricted than usual. But she could shimmy and wriggle her body, she could thrust her hips, and she concentrated on doing that more erotically than ever before.

As she'd expected, the calmness washed over her, the feeling of being at home, no matter where she was, as long as she could hang.

As she wriggled, she watched the boat.

She focused on one crewman in particular, facing in her direction as he watched the slavegirls go by lugging crates, his arms folded, his shoulder leaned casually against a bulkhead. Come on, Amy thought. Come on. Look at me! Look at me!

She couldn't see his eyes, under the shade of his hat, but she saw his head jerk up suddenly, his jaw dropping. Yes!!!

Two slavegirls walked by in front of him, neither of them looking towards Amy as they left the boat.

The crewman took quick looks left and right, then turned and leaned down towards the cargo hold. Then, looking rather casual, his hands in his pockets, he stepped off the boat and sauntered out of Amy's sight along the dock.

Amy, her excitement suddenly overwhelming the calm of the noose, waggled her foot and felt Runner grabbing her hips, pulling her back over the log. As Runner reached behind her to untie the vine, Amy said, "Did you...?"

Runner cut her off, her own voice equally excited. "I saw him! What now, what now?"

Amy, her hands now free, pulled off the noose and hopped down from the stump. She put both hands on Runner's shoulders, holding Runner's eyes with her own. "Do exactly what we talked about. What's your name again?"

Instantly, Runner said, "Caleb." Amy had chosen a name in common use a century before. She had no idea whether it was used by the islanders today, but probably the seaman wouldn't know either.

Amy nodded. She kissed her, and quickly said, "We can't do that anymore, until we get to the Academy. A boy wouldn't kiss a slavegirl." Amy looked around almost frantically, struggling to determine whether anything more needed to be said or done. She pointed to Puppy. "Puppy might get upset when she sees him. Try to keep her quiet. When we get on the boat, it's okay if she licks your face, but don't touch her breasts or between her legs while anybody's watching. And remember, except for your hat, don't take off your clothes no matter what..."

Runner held up her hand as she knelt beside Puppy. "I know, Amy."

"Oh!" A thought bubbled up from the depths of Amy's mind. She lowered her voice, suspecting the seaman might be close enough to overhear by now. "On the boat, don't pee or poop until I show you where to do that. They'll have a place for that. You can lower your shorts to do it, but not where they can see you."

Runner nodded. She was about to speak again, but now they both heard footsteps approaching, a whispery sound in the undergrowth.

Amy's heart fluttered. If that's not him, she reminded herself, we are so screwed. And even if it is him, there's no telling how this will come out.

She had momentary glimpses of him now, between trees, and at last a full view when he rounded the nearest. He stopped short, looking surprised, perhaps not realizing he'd gotten that close.

Relief washed over Amy as she saw he was indeed the man from the boat, not a local. Having seen him only from a distance, she wouldn't have recognized his face, but his clothes were a giveaway. He wore denim shorts and a greasy short-sleeved pullover cotton shirt that had once been white. His hat was not one of the islanders' floppy leather ones, instead having a bill in front to shade the eyes. He appeared about thirty, with unruly black hair much shorter than the island men wore theirs, and a beard growth of about three days. His eyes widened at the closer view of Amy, though Amy knew he couldn't very well be amazed at her nudity -- he'd been watching a parade of naked slavegirls all morning. Nonetheless, he was unable to think of a more clever conversational opening than "Uhhhh...."

Amy went down on her knees, facing him. Her eyes brimming with tears, her face expressing emotion that was only partly feigned, she said in a choked voice, "Please, get me out of here!"

"You're... you're her, right? The one they're looking for down there?"

Puppy's low growl, continuous since the man had appeared, boiled over into barking. Runner arrested Puppy's lunge in his direction, wrapping an arm gently across both shoulders underneath her neck while whispering, "Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay," stroking her back soothingly, petting her hair. Puppy quieted, but continued to glare at the newcomer.

Amy rose to her feet, bringing his attention back to herself. Her initial reading of him confirmed her judgment beforehand on the most likely successful strategy. Most women, she knew, would instinctively try to seduce him, but Amy did her best, all through the conversation, to keep any seductive note out of her voice. Amy was aware that most men fantasize that a beautiful (naked!) woman will suddenly come on to them -- but when it actually happens to them, their first instinct is to suspect a trick. Amy could more easily control him by conveying complete helplessness. "I'm the one. But you can tell I'm not from here, right? Listen to me talk. Do you think I could really talk like this if I was from here? They think I'm a runaway slave, but I'm from the mainland! You saw me hang, right? Nobody from here knows how to do that! Please, please, take me home!"

Of course, Runner was an exception to that last statement, but Runner's hanging ability would be kept under wraps, along with any other sign of her actual gender. Amy had considered having Runner pretend to be another Academy student, but she had quickly realized Runner couldn't do the accent in any prolonged conversation -- and then Amy had remembered, more importantly, that nobody on the mainland looked like Runner did. Indeed, not many on the island did either, as far as Amy could tell. Amy had seen traces of native genes in a few of the men and a handful of slavegirls, but not to the extent Runner showed them. Amy was starting to wonder if perhaps both Runner's mother and father, strangers to each other except for a brief mating in the breeding farm, had both carried some native blood, and had somehow both managed to contribute disproportionate amounts of their native genetic heritage to the resulting embryo, creating a baby more purely native than either of them individually. She supposed it could happen.

Amy had also considered having Runner be a slavegirl, but, assuming the men on the boat would take the risk of stealing a work slave from the island, Amy couldn't think of a way to ensure that they wouldn't keep her as their own sex slave afterward. As far as Amy could work out, the only plan with a chance of success was for Runner to be a local boy, estranged from his father, who wanted to see the amazing land where Amy lived, and insisted on bringing his pet doggirl along. That might make sense in a you-know-how-kids-are kind of way. As for Puppy, Amy would have to rely on the knowledge that rough men of the sea were not ordinarily drawn to puppygirls. Though puppygirls were often used for sex, that was not usually the main satisfaction in owning them.

The idea of leaving either Runner or Puppy behind, with Amy so much in debt to both of them for the fact of having this opportunity at all, was never under consideration.

In Runner's case, Amy felt a love for her to a degree she hadn't experienced since Megan. If she couldn't take Runner along with her, she wasn't leaving.

The expression on the man's face told Amy he wanted to believe what she'd said, which certainly counted as a plus. He probably did suspect, without knowing for sure, that no girl on the island could do what he had seen Amy doing. But he needed more. "How long have you been here?"

"About a month."

"Then you'd know who was the only woman who won on 'Girlhunt' last year?"

Amy's mind went blank for a moment, but came back to life an instant before panic set in. "Gail Hudson! CTV network, Thursdays at eight! She won a million dollars, they made a big deal of it, she went on all the morning shows the next week."

The man blinked, clearly convinced now, but his puzzled look grew deeper. "So what are you doing here? With all the..." he indicated her slaveware, "...stuff?"

Amy had decided that, in the case of her own personal story, the truth was going to be her best friend here. "I was kidnapped and left here. As a really, really cruel joke. A hate joke, only funny to the man who did it. I'm a graduate of the Hanging Academy. You saw what I can do. That's why you came up here, right?"

"Uhhh, yeah." His eyes widened at the memory. "That was pretty amazing."

"Please tell me you've heard of the Hanging Academy."

He nodded. "Oh, sure."

"You've seen a Hanging Girl show?"

He snorted. "I'm not that rich."

Perfect, thought Amy. He already knows the Academy means money. By this time, she decided, if there was any news out about a stolen Academy girl, he'd remember it and mention it. Apparently they had kept a lid on the story. Amy didn't want to bring it up herself. If she put it in the form of a question and he knew nothing about it, it might cast doubt on the rest of her story. It was crucial that he be absolutely convinced she was associated with the Academy. She would put on a more elaborate show for him, and the others, if necessary. "Want to be richer?"

"What do you mean?"

"I'm a missing Academy graduate. There'd be a reward for bringing me back."

"What kind of reward?"

She had no idea what sort of specifics to give him. Too small an amount would not seem worth his while, against her value to him as a sex slave. Too large an amount would not seem believable. In between, she felt sure, was an ideal amount that would be both convincing and motivating, but she needed to know more about him to know what it was. She put all the sincerity she could into her voice as she said, "Big."

The man folded his arms, looking at Amy silently for a time, as though weighing options. Then he twisted around to look back towards his boat. "How am I supposed to get you on board? I can't trash my reputation on this island by looking like I'm stealing one of their girls. And they'd stop me anyway. I know about these people. They're pretty easy-going until you piss them off."

Amy let out a huge, real sigh. She was past the first hump -- he had made the decision to try to help her and was considering ways and means. Still, she knew he needed more time to let the decision firm up before she added on the complication of Runner and Puppy. "What's your name?" It was time to make the issue more personal.

He turned back to her. "Huh? Oh, Justin. Justin Greene."

She stepped up to him with her hand held out. "I am so, so lucky you came along, Justin. My name is Amy." They shook hands, as Amy reflected that, without being openly seductive, it was still easy to suggest the idea that she would be very grateful if he could help her.

She now opened up on the latest version of her plan, making it look as though it had just occurred to her. "Oh! Do you think you could persuade another crew member to let me borrow his clothes? I mean, you could go get them and bring them here?"

He arched an eyebrow. "I'm the captain. So I guess I could get them to do just about anything."

She held her arms up, palms outward. "And do you have anything that can cut through these padlocks?"

He nodded. "No problem on that."

Amy smiled in relief. "That's how to get me on board, then. I can just walk on as a member of your crew. Maybe there could be a few comings and goings before that, so people watching lose track of how many men are on shore. They won't be paying that much attention anyway. In fact, most of the men watching probably drift off after you've exchanged cargo. Don't they? The kids too?"

He scratched his chin. "Yeah, mostly."

Amy looked back at Runner at last, still crouched beside Puppy, watching the proceedings intently and silently. "And Caleb and the puppy can wait by the boat. He can ask your crew questions, and one of you can invite him on board to look around, when the other boys are gone."

Greene looked back and forth between Amy and Runner. "Huh? What?"

Amy banged the heel of her palm against her head. "I'm sorry, I forgot to introduce Caleb! He's coming with me."

Runner looked at Greene, and gave him a smile and a small wave. "Hi."

Greene frowned deeply. "So I'm supposed to kidnap a kid too?"

Amy looked at him seriously. "Justin, I wouldn't be here without him. And he's kind of burned his bridges. He helped me get away, and he'd be in so much trouble if he went home! And he wants to see where I live. He's imagining it's kind of a magical place. And it will be, to him! Anyway, I owe him so much for what he's done for me. I can't just abandon him here! He doesn't have a place here anymore." Using the male pronoun gradually seemed more natural as Amy went deeper into her story. She took a deep breath. "If you'll do this one more thing for me, I'll make sure you and your crew are invited as guests to an Academy party. Do you know about the parties? You'd get to see a girl snuffed by hanging, and you can spend some private bedroom time with me, or any student you want. Please, do this for me." She bit her lip in a show of anxiety that was entirely genuine. This was the last barrier, for herself and for Runner.

He folded his arms again, in what seemed to be his thinking posture. After a minute, he nodded. She'd offered him more than enough to justify the risk.