Misty picked disdainfully at her clothing. Across the rocking caravan, her sister sat leaning against the wooden side, reaching up to try and control her ungroomed hair. Violet plucked a lone blade of straw from her dark locks, and dropped it in startled astonishment.

Ash giggled at them; two perfect manor ladies bunged in a gypsy caravan, dressed in Melody’s dresses, with a nun and monastery artist huddled together in one corner, and the squire of their uncle –

Ash physically winched as he remembered that the time when he’d have to return to Aylesbury drew ever nearer. He was crazy going off into the country with these people when he would just have to double back, and quickly, but he couldn’t leave them; he had bonded with all of them. Tracey, May, Violet – even the mischievous, and extremely scandalously pregnant gypsy Duplica.

And Misty, he meant Lady Misty – how could he tell her? He who had pronounced himself her hero and protector, was running off to fight a war, far far away, leaving her and her younger sister alone in a world that was new and harsh to them.

Ash glanced around the small wooden box again – Duplica was up front, driving, and the rest of the troupe were walking behind. His deep brown eyes cast upon May and Tracey in the corner, and immediately he blushed and averted them again, a blush quickly formulating on his cheeks. Yet, curiously he had to look back, inconspicuously out of the corner of his eye.

Not that the couple would have noticed anything; their faces seemed moulded together, and Tracey’s hand was roaming dangerously high up May’s long legs, pushing her skirts higher and higher. Ash swallowed and looked away again.

Ash wasn’t stupid – he was 15 years old, and many boys his age and profession were already bargained off in marriage to middle-aged widows. Ash swallowed again, deeply, making his throat gulp as a picture of him and Misty flickered into his adolescent mind. Fiercely blushing with the rush of testosterone, he desperately pushed the image away, and focused his eyes on his feet.

~*~

"Sit down you daft woman!" scolded one of the female gypsies as Misty watched in amusement as Duplica tried to get up and join the traditional dancing around the fire at dinner that evening.

"What would Todd say if he knew we were lettin’ his beloved wifey dance around like a loony; bump bouncin’ everywhere?" laughed another, as she poured Duplica some water. Duplica folded her arms and pouted.

"Melody, I’m a big girl!" she mocked. "I can take care of myself and the littlun!" she declared, patting her protruding bump again. Melody sighed in exasperation and left the caravan. Duplica turned her puppy-dog eyes onto the other woman. "Suzie…" she whined.

"You stay ‘ere mistress," Suzie stated solemnly. "There’s things afoot; that messenger on the road said so." Duplica scoffed.

‘Oh yes, the Italians have landed, and the first thing that they’ll do is attack a harmless gypsy troupe, and if they see a pregnant woman, they’ll go for her first! Let’s be realistic here please!" Suzie ignored her, and wagged a finger warningly as she backed out of the caravan to return to the warmth and security of the fire.

"Now dunna be lettin’ her up Mistress Misty. Woman with bubbas need lots o’ rest." Misty nodded as the woman left. Duplica sighed, almost blowing out the candle that provided the only light in the dim little box. There was silence for a moment.

"So, what’s your story Lady?" she suddenly asked wryly. "You’re either running away from something, or eloping with the young man who makes me wish I was a few years younger!" She laughed, showing Misty what was said was only a tease. Misty trusted and felt at ease with the friendly girl, whose voice betrayed her rich upbringing, and did not hesitate.

"My stepfather tried to marry me off to a man in his forties-" Duplica’s eyebrows raised. "And not just any man, but a disgusting, perverted, slimy, PATHETIC excuse for a human being!" Duplica blinked at the venom in each spat word. Misty gasped in astonishment at herself. "I-I’m sorry, please excuse my outburst. I don’t know what’s come over me lately…"

Duplica smiled, in a way that suggested she knew exactly what had come over the young redhead lately.

"Poor thing," said Duplica, quietly. "I wonder if I may briefly indulge myself in telling you my story – and how I came to be here?" Misty nodded reverently, and the teal haired woman smiled. "As I supposed you can guess, I am too a Lady of breeding – my parents are the Lord and Lady of Denham; it’s to the east of Aylesbury and Risborough – nearer to London," she explained. "I hated that life – as I predict you will grow to in time, and since a young age I befriended the village children. I was an only child, and very lonely. Suzie and Melody," she gestured out of the open hatch towards the people by the fire, "were simple children – the daughters of a seamstress and the blacksmith, but they’re the best friends I’ve ever had. And then, five years ago, when I was thirteen, I fell in love with another one of my dear friends – Todd." She indicated her expanded womb with a jerk and a laugh. "This is his handiwork…"

"So were you two really in love?" Misty asked wistfully.

"Yes we really were," the girl answered sadly. "Father found out – had him recruited off to the wars. I just had to get out of there – Mel and Suzie came with me…we came across this band of gypsies, I found out my singing isn’t all that terrible and…as you put it…here I am."

Misty stared silently at Duplica, feeling waves of different emotions – pity, sadness, envy? Duplica shifted her back from the wall, and lay down on the hay.

"I think I’ll sleep now; thank you for listening to my rambling Misty," she smiled.

"Anytime, friend." Misty smiled back.

~*~

What time was it? Midnight? Ash had no idea, and bluntly didn’t care. He lay under the stars, alone on a bed of hay a little way away from the campsite, and wondered.

The sky was so beautiful…The sky was so beautiful? Since when did Ash Ketchum think or say things like that?

Turning back to look at eternity in the stars, Ash felt the cool night air brush lightly across his face, soothing his throbbing headache. He had to leave her tomorrow. Mouthing that sentence quietly made him ache inside, and his head throb stubbornly again.

Maybe it was a good thing he was leaving her – he didn’t trust himself around her any more not to say or do something stupid. Was she even aware that she seemed to grow more and more stunningly beautiful each and every day? That’s all she was to him – the annoyingly beautiful spoilt brat who got on his nerves every three minutes without fail. Everything irked him – the way she painstakingly braided Violet’s hair every morning, the way she ate, the way she almost seemed to snarl when she yelled at him (which was often), the way she smiled at him and made him feel up to saving the whole country single-handedly…. the way that he felt about her.

Love, like, lust? All he knew was that deep inside some primordial urge inside of him yearned to be near her all the time.

Misty roused and stirred. The whole tiny room echoed with snores and grunts till she was driven to distraction. Sighing, she wearily rose to her feet, and walked away from the noisy caravan, swatting straw off her skirts.

Ash saw her coming through the trees long before she saw him. His heart leapt up into his throat, and his palms instantly grew clammy. Duplica’s flowing dress accented every curve in Misty’s young woman’s body. Ash raised his voice.

"Hey, over here!" Misty looked around – startled but smiling. Her teal eyes sought out her friend among the bushes, and she sat down on the itchy hay next to him.

"It was too noisy in there," she explained, gesturing towards the caravan in the distance. "Couldn’t sleep."

"You can sleep here with me." Ash offered quickly, patting the hay and grinning. "Plenty of room!" Misty laughed.

"I have done less appropriate things! Thank you." She lay down, and arched her back into several positions till she was moderately comfortable. Ash watched her, his happy expression turning serious.

"I have to leave tomorrow." Misty shot straight up.

"No!" stammered Misty, horrified. "There is no way I’m letting you go off into a war you fool; you’ll be killed! There must be a way…no…" Ash grabbed Misty’s flailing hands and enveloped them close to his chest.

"Shush…" he consoled the girl. "It will make it all the harder if you worry, for I know that I shall be fine. I have to report back to Duke Aylesbury…the sooner I go the sooner I can come back…to you." Misty cried harder, allowing her head to bow forwards in a half-hearted consent, and to rest on his shoulder. Ash moved his hands away from hers, and hugged her closer to him in guilt.

And suddenly, Ash got an awful feeling that tomorrow would be the last time he ever saw her. So he decided to ask her.

"Misty, when I come back I’ll be a Knight, I’ll have ‘Sir’ before my name," he teased. "And then, maybe then I’ll be good enough for you…" Misty pulled away from his shoulder, and looked at him in shock, their faces simply millimetres apart.

"Why do you mean?" she croaked. "Of course you’re good enough for me you stupid boy!"

"But I’d never be allowed to marry you," Ash blurted out, horrified too feel the warm wetness of tears forming in his own eyes. "You’re a Lady, I’m a servant. But if I go to war, and I come back, I’ll have honour, and then maybe we can be together." Misty opened her mouth, but he covered it with his hand. "Please don’t say anything – I know you’d never want to marry me, ignore me, it is nothing but a fool’s dream." Ash let his hand drop dejectedly to his side, and looked the silent girl mournfully in the eyes.

"Dearest Ash," she said, slowly and carefully. "Any Lady in any manor would be more than happy to have you as their husband and master…"

"But you see that’s the thing! I don’t want to be your master, I want to be your husband, the father of your children, the man you depend on and grow old with! I want your love but I also want your respect." Ash interrupted, almost angrily, and bitterly.

"Will you let me finish!?" Misty yelled in exasperation. "Ash, it doesn’t matter to me what word comes before your name…" The tight knot in Ash’s chest began to untie itself. "And now you’re going to be a stubborn man and go off and fight your silly war, and afterwards, you’re going to come back and I’ll be waiting for you." Ash’s eyes brightened.

"It means that I feel very compelled to be Mrs Ketchum, instead of Lady Oak," Misty grinned. Ash started to laugh softly, out of relief and happiness. He reached out one hand to gently cup her wet cheek.

The two teenagers started happily into each others eyes, basking in the glow and security their unofficial betrothal gave them. Ash finally broke, and pulled Misty’s face to his. They stayed like that for a while, each content to be with each other; sometime their kisses were long and deep, and others were simple brushes across lips.