“I do not!” said Emily decidedly, glaring at her sister. She caught the rider’s arm and let herself be swung up before him.
“Em!” shouted Kate, panicked, but it was too late. He settled her little sister comfortably and put the horse into a plodding walk. Kate stood for a second, hands shaking, unsure what she had expected. Then she had to scramble after them.
The darkness pressed in around them as they left the bonfire behind. Lightning flickered and flashed. Marak’s good humor seemed to have returned, and he soon had Emily telling him all about life at the Lodge. Kate stumbled along at the horse’s flank, trying to keep up. She felt like a complete fool.
“So your name is M. That’s a letter, isn’t it?” he asked. This notion caught Emily’s fancy powerfully, and she couldn’t stop giggling.
“My name is Emily Winslow, but my sister calls me Em. Or maybe she calls me M. I wonder what I stand for.” Kate tripped over a root and thought Emily sounded like an idiot.
“Isn’t it funny how humans name a child one thing in order to call it something else? So many names. It’s like a game. M’s a new one. Kate—now, that’s a name everyone knows.”
They were walking through a field of weeds. The weeds were up to Kate’s waist, and she kept slipping on the long stalks. “Miss Winslow,” she muttered through clenched teeth, but Marak heard her. He must have very good ears.
“Oh, hello, Kate, are you all right down there? Are you enjoying your walk? So, Miss Winslow. How convenient. You have one name for friends and another for enemies.” Emily giggled again. He certainly was making a hit with her.
“I do not have a name for enemies,” Kate answered sharply. “Polite society dictates the use of a person’s name.” She emphasized