By the time Nat had finished his shower and gone down to the common room he was ravenous.  Going directly to the little refrigerator found an apple and a Coke.  He stood at the bar for the few minutes it took to eat the apple then, carrying the Coke, he began to pace the room, sipping.

Jessy came in from the patio and Nat held up the can and said “Coke?”

“No, thanks,” she gave him a little shake of the head. 

Once more her attention dropped to her feet.  Nat shrugged and crushed the now empty can flat then tossed in to the waste basket atop the apple core.

“Who's the guy in the white tree?” he said.

“Uncle Nick,” Jessy replied, not looking up.

“You uncle?”

Wren stepped into the room dressed in jeans and a tee shirt.  Nat looked over at Wren and smiled a greeting.

“Why's Wren and my name carved in the tree then?” he asked.

“I'm somewhat curious about that myself." Wren said moving further into the room.

“Because you are now part of this family of the valley,” Jessy explained.  “And he isn't really my uncle, he is a dragon but we all grew up calling him Uncle.”

Nat blinked at her.  “Didn’t look like a dragon.”

Wren said at the same time, “Family?”

“Yeah,” Jessy shrugged.  “It has to do with some tree that recorded all the elves of the Fireoak forest and that is the Valley's tree so you are stuck in the family.”

“He said something about our children being there too,” Nat said.

“Then you really are stuck in here,” Jessy said.  “Uncle Nick is never wrong.”  She paused then said “So who did he say you were going to marry Nat?”

“He didn't, he was touching a spot above Wren and my names.”

He shrugged.  Jessy actually growled.

“How come he doesn't look like a dragon?” Nat asked.

“Because he doesn't want to!” Jessy snapped.

Nat scowled and Jessy looked like she was on the verge of a mad.

“Only one spot?” she demanded.  “He touched just one spot?”

Nat shrugged  "I guess . . ."

“Is that a bad thing?” Wren asked.  “I am unfamiliar with dragons.”

Jessy sighed “I guess I am doomed.”  The growing anger had turned to unshed tears.

“Wren was worried,” Nat told her.  “Your uncle told her to be very worried.”

“If Uncle Nick is around there is plenty to worry about.” Jessy admitted.

“What did he mean?” Nat frowned.  “Why?”

“Cause he uses people like pawns,” she said.  “He has been a thorn in my dad's side for years.”

Wren struggled to keep her composure and covered by taking a seat in one of the chairs.

“He will do whatever he wants to keep the balance no matter who it hurts . . . Well except for his woman.”

“His woman?” Nat had definitely not seen a woman.

“Yeah, he has a woman,” Jessy said, with obvious distaste.  “Let’s not talk about this.”

“Okaaay . . .” Nat agreed.

Wren remained silent, filing things away.

“Think I could get something to eat?” Nat said.

“Is there a monster blocking the door that I cannot see?” Wren replied.

He looked over at her “You wore me out!"

“That was nothing,” she said casually.

Nat grinned.

“You can tell me that after you spend a few hours in the water with me."

Wren raised an eyebrow.  "I love how you assume I will be spending any time in the water with you at all, never mind a few hours."

“Sounds fair, doesn't it?”  Nat said.  “You teach me dance, I teach you to surf?”

“Who are you to assume I would like to learn to surf, Nathaniel?”  Wren gave him a look with a hint of teasing hidden somewhere underneath.

“Sorry . . . “ Nat turned red.

“Would you like to rephrase it, or would you prefer to continue being embarrassed and scuff your trainers on the carpet a bit?”

“Well . . . I thought it might be fair . . . if you were interested in surfing . . .” He said slowly.  “Not much else I can offer in exchange for your time.”

Wren shook her head.  "That would be a good ending to your proposal.  What you should have said was, 'Would you be interested in learning how to surf with me?'"

“Not very good with words, huh?” he said.

“If I had a sarcasm radar I think it would be going off now,” she replied.

Nat blinked “No . . .”

“Then we are missing each other,” Wren said, seeking clarification. “Are you saying I am not very good with words?”

“No, me . . .” he said.  “See . . .”

“Mm.” she hummed.  “That makes more sense.  Once again, shady wording on your side.”

Jessy glared at Wren.  It did not go unnoticed.

“I could do without a hole being burned through my head, Jessica."

“Well, one, my name is not Jessica,” Jessy snapped.  “And I really hate being called that!”

“I'm glad you told me,” Wren said, a hint of condescension plain to Nat but not, apparently to Jessy.  “I will attempt to call you Jessy, then.  My apologies.  Is there a two?”

Nat was watching the exchange and Jessy looked at him, meaningfully.

“That all depends,” Jessy said.

Nat scowled.  “Why do I feel like a bug?”  He headed for the hall.  “I need food."

“I'll go with you,” Jessy almost skipped after him.

Wren drew her legs up struggling not to comment.  To cover she picked up a Surf magazine from the end table and flipped through it.

At the last moment Nat stopped himself from kicking the kitchen door open.  He headed for the refrigerator.

“So what’s the deal?” Jessy said, following him.

Nat came up with a butcher paper wrapped package, mayo and cheese.

“What deal?” he said, dropping it all on the counter.

“Come on, you know what I mean,” Jessy said.

Nat eyed her.  “No . . . I don't.

"I don't believe you!” she accused.

From the bread box, Nat found a loaf of fresh bread.  Jessy watched him for a few seconds, her eyes slowly filling with tears.

“Forget IT!”  She kicked open the kitchen door and stormed up the stairs.

“What the . . . ?” Nat blinked at her sudden and noisy departure.  “Damn, why does she always cry and run off?”  He found a knife in the drawer and build two sandwiches, one huge, thick with meat and cheese, the other normal-sized, which he placed on a plate.  Grabbing napkins and the sandwiches, he returned to the common room. 

Wren as still seated, the magazine abandon.  Nat offered her the plated sandwich.  She took it with a nod of thanks.

“I think we've upset her . . .” she said.  “er . . . by we, I mean me.”

“Not just you,” Nat said, taking a bite of the sandwich and swallowing before speaking again,  “I'm not playing her game.  It's frustrating her.”

“Now is a bad time to cackle, I'm sure,” Wren said then sighed.