They rode out two hours after breakfast. Ruslan had spent those two hours in the stables, carefully avoiding Akilina.
“Ooooh, oooooh the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-oh, oooooh ooooooh the rattlin’ bog, the bog down in the valley-oh!” Matvei sang half-heartedly. Isidor kept time with his walking stick.
“Don’t you know any other songs, bard?” Ruslan asked from atop his “loyal steed.” Isidor occasionally fed the poor, overloaded donkey a few sugar cubes to keep it happy. Misha let out a yowl from the cage strapped on behind Ruslan.
“No.” Matvei shrugged his bulky shoulders, shifted the bags he was holding, and continued singing.
Eva and Pasha kicked a rock back and forth across the path at each other.
“…and in the hole there was a tree, a great tree and a rattlin’ tree, and the tree in the hole and the hole in the bog and the bog down in the valley-oh, oooooooh ooooooh…”
Eva kicked the rock upwards and hit Matvei in the shin. He swore at her.
“Be quiet.” Eva hissed. She and Pasha leaned towards the trees on one side of the path and stood silently.
“Robbers.” Pasha whispered. Ruslan looked aghast.
“Well, then surely we must…”
“Shut up. You three go on ahead, Pasha and I will backtrack and loot their camp.” Eva said.
“Now look here, I’m the-”
“SHUT UP!” Matvei, Eva, and Pasha growled.
“Well, sounds like this is good-bye. My lovely wife and I can only walk you so far.” Pasha said loudly, putting his arm around Eva. She grimaced and gave Pasha’s arm an ugly look.
“Are you sure you want to head back home without any provisions? Take some of ours.” Matvei suggested, matching his volume to Pasha’s. Eva laughed.
“It’s not like you have anything of value. Nonetheless, watch out for thieves!”
Matvei, Isidor, and Ruslan moved forward with the donkey after exchanging plenty of hugs with Eva and Pasha. The two began to head back down the path, chatting about their “daughter” and “son” and Pasha’s “job at the grainery.” When they lost the sound of footsteps from anywhere, they turned off into the woods.
Pasha had long ago proved himself better suited to tracking things than to catching them and quickly found the campsite. He and Eva stuffed their pockets with stolen money, jewelry, and food.
“Can I help you?” A delicate female voice asked.
Pasha jumped up and hit his head on the bush he was rummaging under. Eva nearly dropped her handful of overripe grapes. A young girl had stepped out of one of the tents.
“Erm…” Pasha hesitated.
“I think this is yours. Perhaps you dropped it.” The girl held up Pasha’s knife.
“Thank you, young lady. Might I inquire what such a pretty girl is doing out here in the middle of the woods?” Pasha asked gallantly, stepping towards the girl and holding his hand out towards her. She handed over the knife.
“I’m a thief.” She replied innocently.
“Oh, are you now…?”
Eva pulled Pasha aside.
“She’s going to mention us to the rest of her band.” She muttered.
“We’ll just have to kidnap her, then.” Pasha suggested.
“And do what with her? Feed her to Misha? Let Isidor practice tricks on her?”
“Isidor likes boys, Eva.”
“Not those kinds of tricks. Magic tricks. We’d be better off killing her.”
“We could keep her as a pet. Rent her out, maybe.”
“We’ll have to carry her all the way to the next town.”
“We can take turns,” Pasha cleared his throat and turned back to the robber maiden, who was standing where he had left her and wearing a look of pure sweetness, “Madam, do you have any rope about?”
“Of course.” The girl ducked back into her tent and came out with two lengths of rope. Eva snapped her fingers and the ropes bound the girl by themselves. The little thief fell down with a look of innocent surprise on her face. Pasha went to pick her up while Eva finished filling up the various hidden pockets in her cloak with food and money. Pasha threw the girl over his shoulder and they walked out of the woods.
“Where are we going?”
“We already told you that, Irina. Grundorf. We’re meeting the rest of our party there at The Guarded Inn.” Pasha sighed as the girl-thief’s feet thumped repeatedly against his back.
“Isn’t that a rather silly place for robbers to stay?” Irina asked.
“The name’s a joke. The Guarded Inn is dead centered in the slums.” Eva said, eating wedges off of a loaf of bread as she walked along.
“Actually, I believe the proprieter prefers to call it ‘quaint.’” Pasha noted.
“The proprieter also tried to slip it to Matvei from behind and called it ‘hospitality.’” Eva pointed out, taking another bite of bread.
“Slip what?” Irina asked.
Pasha and Eva exchanged looks.
“I’ll tell you when you’re older.” Pasha offered. Eva shook her head.
“I’m nineteen,” Irina said indignantly, “Slip what?”
“Nineteen, yes, pinnacle of simultaneous innocence and maturity.” Eva muttered.
Five