Father returned with a biscuit for Ruth, a silent apology. She accepted it graciously and tried to forget everything he had said. After all, how would she feel if someone killed Issie or Annaless? She didn't want to think about that.

And she didn't want to think about going to school or to Gregor's tomorrow, after all the events of the day. But she had no choice. Father and Mother ushered her out the door that next morning, barely acknowledging her pleas to stay home. Ruth at least had the good sense to eat her pastry on her front stoop.

School passed with blessed quickness. No mention was made of yesterday. The girls acted like nothing had happened. Ruth didn't want to bring it up and she didn't want to lose her only friends, so she joined in the charade. Besides, their fight hadn't been that bad. Especially since she was pretty sure she'd been the clear winner.

Gregor, however, was less inclined to let the events of the previous day pass by unnoticed. He met her in the kitchen, a scowl on his usually expressionless face. "You didn't bring dinner to my wife."

"I'm sorry, sir." Ruth hung her head, with both guilt and fear. She liked Venessa and wondered how long the poor woman had gone without dinner. But she also feared his anger and what he might do to her.

"Get that pail." he gestured towards a large tin basin.

Ruth lifted it awkwardly and followed him to the well.

"Fill it." Gregor watched as she obeyed his order. "Walk to the kitchen. Don't you dare spill a drop."

She lugged it up the hill and through the kitchen doors. It was heavy, so very heavy. She was used to carrying heavy objects, but this challenged her strengths.

"Back to the well." Gregor ordered, his voice toneless.

Ruth stared. "Sir?"

"Back to the well." he repeated the command.

She went back to the well. Her muscles began to burn, silently begging her to set the bucket down. But as soon as she reached the well, he wanted her to walk back to the kitchen.

Four more times, Ruth made the journey from the well to the kitchen and back. She was breathing hard, sweating, and hunched over with effort when her taskmaster finally took pity. "Put it down."

"Thank you, sir." she groaned, setting it down on the spot. Her arms ached and she massaged them gingerly.

"If I ever find you abandoning my wife like that again, this'll seem easy." Gregor told her, firmly.

"It'll never happen again, sir." Ruth promised.

"All right." he nodded. And then, with unexpected kindness, he added, "I already carried the dinner tray down to the soldiers. Go wait for them to finish."