“Not many men can afford rings these days,” Athan tried to argue.
“Ha!” Jorn blurted out a mad laugh. “Now I know you’re lying. If you’re any kind of a man worthy to marry her, you always find a way to give your girl, the joy of your heart, a ring! Always.”
“I’m sorry,” Athan tried again to soothe over the confrontation, but Jorn’s growing agitation had begun to spread to the men behind him, except to Yorn who looked more sad and lost than angry. “I meant only to save her from harm.”
“Well, you’re doing a piss-poor job of it,” Jorn spat. “And the toll just went up. I’ll be taking all of it, and the mule. And whatever the girl has clutched there, against her breast.”
“But, Jorn,” Yorn spoke up again. “It’s tough times for all folks.”
“Shut up!” Jorn fumed. “And you best be taking that bundle from her yourself, or I’m sending you to the Grey Marsh.”
A deep fright entered Yorn’s big blue eyes, the origin of which Dnara didn’t understand. She’d never heard of the Grey Marsh, either, and was growing tired of all the things she didn’t know about this world beyond the forest. The other men, too, looked uncomfortable with Jorn’s threat. Wherever the Grey Marsh may be, it was obvious no man wanted to be sent there.
“Get on Treven and go,” Athan commanded Dnara, but she remained unmoving, reins in hand. Treven stamped his front hooves into the dirt and snorted. “Don’t argue,” Athan hissed, despite Dnara not having said a word.
“I’ll not leave you to this fate,” Dnara finally did argue.
“They’re thieves, not murderers,” Athan said as the men began encircling them on the road.
“Desperate times,” Jorn said, his voice sounding quite desperate as he waved his knife in warning with a fluid motion. “Just give us the goods, for Faedra’s sake!”
At Jorn’s raised shout, Treven’s entire body vibrated with powerful, twitching muscles, and he gave a warning kick of his own. Dnara held fast to the reins, her heart pounding. Athan unsheathed his knife, more a skinning blade than a weapon, and tried one more time to get her to run.
“Go, damn you!” He shoved Treven’s nose with his free hand. “Get in the saddle,” he pleaded to Dnara.
“Stop,” Jorn warned, stepping within knife’s reach, his blade much longer than Athan’s. “Any sudden moves and I’ll spill your lying guts to the ground.”
“Please, be reasonable,” Athan tried.
“I’m done being reasonable!” Jorn yelled, his words echoing across the river. “Ain’t no reason left in this world. The blight done took it all from me! So damn the bloody blight, and damn Faedra’s Sacred Halls, I aim to take back what little I can.”
“This is not the way!” Athan beseeched.
“It’s the only way we got left!” Jorn shouted back. “Now, brother. Take her now!”
“Sorry, miss,” came Yorn’s unexpected voice from behind. For a big man, he’d managed to quietly approach within their blind spot. He wrapped two solid arms around Dnara’s waist and lifted her from the ground.
Putting the threat of Jorn’s knife to his back, Athan spun around to face the larger brother. “Put her down.”
“Sorry,” Yorn forlornly replied as he backed up with a squirming Dnara in his arms. “Can’t. Don’t want to go to the Grey Marsh.”
Treven whinnied loud and gave another back kick into the air as two men approached from the other side. He snorted low then rammed his head into Jorn, putting the man onto his rear in the dirt. Two stamping hooves landed close to the man’s groin then Treven rotated his large body to face Yorn.
“Whoa now,” Yorn coaxed, his voice unsteady as Dnara continued to struggle.
“Damned mule,” Jorn cursed and coughed as a dust cloud rose. “Get a hold on that animal!”
One of the men braved up and gripped Treven’s bridle and the mule nearly sent the man flying. A yell went up and another man joined. Then a third, but Treven fought on. Only when the fourth man stepped in and put a knife to Athan’s throat did Treven stop his fight.
Athan raised his hands, dropping his knife to the ground. “Lives aren’t worth a few briarbear pelts. Fine, if you want to be dirty thieves, then take them. Take the lot of it, including the sack of moonglows, there, attached to the saddle. But, please, I beg of you to leave my mule and the girl alone.”
“No deal,” Jorn groused.
“It’s a good deal,” Yorn argued.
“To the Grey Marsh with you!” Jorn yelled.
Dnara felt Yorn’s grip lax and she squirmed harder against his faltering grip. With her own palms sweaty from the fight, the cotton slipped loose. The glass jar of bright yellow sunberry jam tumbled to the ground and shattered.
“Aw, now look what you done, girl!” Jorn stood and dusted himself off. “Ruined a perfectly good jar of jam.”
“Them’s my favorite,” Yorn sighed, lowering his arms and putting Dnara’s kicking feet to the ground. “Sunberries. Hard to get this time of year.”
Dnara’s vision fixated on the smeared jam at her feet. It spread into the dirt, thickening to sweetened mud and broken glass. There would be no saving it.
A breeze tugged at the hem of her dress.
“Tried to do this nicely, I did,” Jorn huffed. “Could’ve split that jam evenly between us as friends.”
The trees whispered around them and the ashbirds went silent.
“Now, no one will enjoy it,” Jorn continued. “So, maybe instead, I’ll enjoy something just as sweet...”
“Keep away from her,” Athan warned.
“Desperate times,” Jorn murmured and moved closer to Dnara.
“Brother?” Yorn questioned like a child, his hands letting Dnara go.
A gust blew from the forest, riding the river and
