“What do you think you are doing?” Margareatha took four quick steps across the floor of her bakery and grabbed the youth"s arm.
She had stepped into the storage room to retrieve another sack of flour from the chest when a sensation of someone near passed over her. She used her mind and realized someone had entered the bakery without calling out some sort of customary greeting.
The youth swung around, his fist clenched and Margareatha grabbed his arm. The stench coming off of him was beyond belief, his cloths were nothing but rags and his shoes were tied to his feet. His hair was a mass of dark, matted curls stretching down to his shoulders. She realized grey eyes were looking at her out of a face that could have belonged to her mother.
The grey eyes widened as he realized she was talle
