MY JOURNEY TO TREILLE took six days. The first two, the road was busy with travelers-peddlers dragging their carts, workers with tools and other belongings, pilgrims heading back home.

By the third day, the villages grew smaller, and so did the traffic.

By the fourth, at dusk, I huddled under a tree for a stingy meal of bread and cheese. I could not rest long. Treille was but a good day's walk away now, and the anticipation of reaching there and finding Sophie beat through my blood like a restless drum.

I decided to travel a bit farther, until darkness completely set in.

I heard voices up ahead. Then shouts, and a woman's cries. I came upon a merchant family-husband, wife, and son-in the midst of being attacked by two robbers.

One of the scavengers grabbed a prize, a ceramic bowl. Look whatI have, Shorty. A piss bowl.

Please, the merchant begged, we have no money. Take the wares if you must.

The one called Shorty sneered. Let's have a trade. You can have your piss bowl back for a stab at your wife.

The blood pounded in my veins. I did not know these people. And I had my own pressing needs in Treille. But I couldn't stand by and watch them be robbed and possibly murdered.

I put down my pack and crept closer behind some brush. Finally, I stepped out from my cover.

Shorty's eyes fell upon me. He was stumpy and barrel-chested, balding on top, but very muscular. I knew I made a ridiculous sight in my leggings and skirt.

Let them be, I said. Leave them and go.

What do we have here? The fierce outlaw grinned toothlessly. A pretty fairy come out of the woods.

You heard the man. I came closer with my staff. Take what you have. You can sell it in the next town. That's what I would do.

Shorty stood up, hardly about to buckle under a threat delivered by someone in a jester's suit. `What I would do,' eh, big shot? What I would do is run off now. Your bad jokes aren't needed here.

Let me try another, I said, stepping forward. How about this one? Name the sexual position that produces the uglie............