[ Julia is too exhausted for a quick, startled turn at the man's sudden appearance, though her pulse somehow ratchets up regardless as she freezes like a cornered animal and looks at him like she's expecting him to sprout teeth and claws to devour her whole. Instinct tells her not to trust him, that taking her chances out there in the wild of this unfamiliar world would be better than risking staying here, but she's too practical to give in to that urge. She needs to hide, rest, and decide her next steps. The Library's henchmen could be right behind her, or just over the next hill, and there is no good choice here, only a lesser evil.

This is the best option she has. Putting her trust in a stranger who might offer her up on a platter to her enemies at the first opportunity. Or he might help her.

Please let him help her. ]

I need to hide. [ It comes out too small, too timid, and she steels her spine and becomes the tough New York socialite who never once took no for an answer. She might be weakened but she is not weak, and she refuses to be a victim again. Her fingers tighten around the grass, grasping at its roots, and then she straightens up, wobbling to her feet like a newborn horse fighting to live. ] There are people looking for me who will kill me if they find me. Is there somewhere I can go nearby?