He did sound sappy. But Wynne didn't have time to tease him about it just then. She was too occupied with trying to identify exactly what good thing it was that he smelled like, because he was just too too close for her to do any critical thinking. And then she was trying to remember when was the last time he had held her, and that was too too long ago to be allowed. She didn't know if it was the certain lovely something that he smelled like or if it was the strength of his arms or simply the fact that she knew in her heart that she liked him an awful lot (no matter if the priest did say that anyone who practiced witchcraft was a perverted child of darkness who would burn in the everlasting fire) but Wynne couldn't resist gently slipping her own arms about his middle. She closed her eyes and leaned her cheek into his palm.

"I won't," she answered.

The fact was that Wynne really was frightened by all of this wizard business. Her whole life, she'd never heard anything but evil about magic and witchcraft - barring the little play tricks for children of course - and the idea of being so close to someone who was involved in that sort of thing was unnerving to say the least. She'd spent so much time in prayer over this. Praying for his soul, praying for wisdom and strength and discipline. And now here she was giving right in. But maybe she could change him. That was something she'd thought an awful lot about as well. Perhaps he could accept Jesus in his life. Perhaps Jesus could change him. Wynne wondered if he cared for her enough to give up those things that he practiced that were abominations. She looked up at Leathan at last.

"If you like, I'll see you once a week," she said. "At church." She paused, holding her breath for the sake of her nerves that desperately wanted to tremble. "Though you couldn't tell the people there that you're a witch. They'd throw you out."

JOEL WATKINS