Chapter 3

Celeste made her way through the woods, slipping and sliding through the underbrush until she heard horses pawing at the ground and merry laughter ringing from somewhere close by. She moved quietly, smelling the air and guarding herself as she approached a road and saw a gypsy party gaily making camp. It was early evening and a large fire blazed brightly in the middle of the camp. A large boar roasted over it and several of the gypsies were playing instruments while another sang. They were such a merry people to be with, so long as they liked you- else wise they were a feared and mysterious band that was known for their slave trade and magical practices.

          Celeste’s stomach growled as she smelt the roasting boar. She was very hungry and missed the pleasantries of people. Her brain began to work very quickly as she stepped silently out of the brush, her hood pulled tight around her fair face. Her bare feet made no sound as she gingerly entered into the camp.

          Many of the gypsies stopped what they were doing and stood up and several of them brandished weapons. They watched the hooded, dark figure of Celeste walk into the center of the camp. One of the men stepped forward, his sword pointed at her. “Who are you and what is it you want from us?” Celeste raised her head and pulled off her hood. She looked small and frail compared to the burly gypsy before her. Her blue eyes looked intently at him and she did not speak as the surprise set in to all that watched. The gypsy man stepped closer to her, but his face showed his puzzlement. “Well? Speak, child…” Celeste took a deep breath. “I am tired and hungry. I came only seeking food and shelter.” The burly man began to laugh, his brown face lifted up to the sky and his great form heaving from the force of his laughter; many others joined in. “And I suspect you think that we shall just give these things to you with no desire of payment?” Celeste’s face remained serious and she spoke smoothly. “No. I offer myself as payment. I have heard of the gypsies in these parts; a hard crew, but a merry and worthy one. The clan of Blandeir, is it not? I do not ask for something in which I cannot pay. Will you take me instead? I have nothing else that I may give.” The silence was nearly stifling as Celeste finished speaking. The burly gypsy looked thoughtful for a moment before speaking. “Aye, you are indeed correct. This is my clan. I am Blandeir, son of the first. What you speak is of great wonder to us, for very few would choose the life of a slave.” Celeste said nothing and Blandeir sighed. “Come and eat, we will discuss payment after you have finished.”

Author's Note

Obviously, this is incomplete... I'm trying to get back into writing it, but I'd love to hear some suggestions!