"You're a quiet one and no mistake," the girl said not unkindly but in a sharp brusque manner. Vetta had learnt she meant no harm by it.

"I am currently at peace," she said and shovelled some more beans in her mouth with the large wooden spoon that gave them a slightly tangy taste for it had been whittled from a young pine quite recently.

"Devouring a meal is a peaceful way of getting along," the girl laughed. "You like beans then?"

"They are lovely. With some melted cheese they would be even more amazing."

"I heard someone shout Vetta back along when I watched you in the woods. That your name?"

"I am called Vetta Mindal, from Poldorama Winkel. May I know your name?" she asked politely.

"Truancy Mundane, but you can call me Tru. Most everyone does," she added ironically.

"We have the same last initial. That is an amazing coincidence," Vetta said, squirming in her seat with seeming pleasure. She placed her empty plate with its well licked spoon upon the floor at her feet and sat back to smile contentedly at her captor.

"A twenty six to one amazement," the girl added wryly.

"Happy coincidences create a sense of friendship, which is one of the five well-springs of joy," Vetta then said as if not understanding the comment previously.

"Well, that's something at least," and the girl rose from her seat with a grunt. "Come on, let's wash up in all friendliness. I want to show you our amazing Frangea stars."

In moments they stood beneath a canopy of sparkling lights that overspread the tree tops.

"There. What do you think of that?"

Vetta gazed long and hard at the sky, seeming unmoved.

"They are very pretty, especially that twinkling pink one over there," she said eventually.

"But don't you ever stare at them and wonder?"

"Wonder what?" Vetta was slightly bemused, being a Wonder girl.

"What they are. What's out there, why that one's pinkish and not the others for instance."

"My father says what is unattainable need not be pondered. They are far away and beautiful for being far away. Up close they may not be so pleasant. I like the stars better for being far away and unattainable and mysterious."

"Why go to school anyway then? You sound as if you don't want to know anything," the girl muttered restlessly.

"Not at all. Education is one of the five well-springs of joy," Vetta asserted.

The fine hazel eyes of the girl filled with an emotion difficult to understand, then she sighed.

"So, bring me joy," she eventually said. "Teach me things," and she turned her back on the unattainable by re-entering the hut. Vetta, uncertain what this might entail, followed her and they resumed the simple seats facing each other.

"I've only been at school for a few days," she said plaintively. "I haven't had time to learn enough to teach others. It would be amazing to do so though, passing on knowledge to others."

"What have you been doing all your life?" the girl said, astonished, thinking she had kidnapped an idiot child.

"Watching my father make wheels of cheese," Vetta confessed nervously, picking up on the exasperation opposite.

"Why wheels? Why not squares or cubes or blocks?"

"Oh, there is a loveliness about a wheel of cheese beyond its taste and fragrance," Vetta enthused in that ready way of hers whenever seized by a subject. She pictured to herself a family gathering, all sat around a great yellow round thing upon a table, everyone awaiting their share of the feast. "Imagine having nine guests, each wishing some cheese. If it were a block this would not be difficult for one might divide it in three and then in three again."

"Sounds like number puzzles," the girl said, rubbing her hands and rocking on her chair. "Three times three equals nine. Good. What else?"

"Well, nine guests can be served when the cheese is in a block. What," Vetta asked carefully, "would you do with a block if it had to be shared between seven guests, and of course shared equally?"

The girl sat back and tried her own mental picture, cutting the squared shaped thing this way and that. Then her face brightened.

"I'd slice it into seven parts along one edge," she declared triumphantly.

Vetta nodded, but there was a look of triumph on her face too, a challenging triumph.

"It would work for quantity only, not quality," she said happily. "The guest who got the first slice would receive the hardest, bitterest piece, for cheese matures differently from the outside to the centre."

"How am I supposed to know that?" the girl replied sullenly. Undaunted, Vetta completed her image.

"A wheel of cheese allows the seven segments to be equal in size and texture and taste so that all guests are served with equal respect and care. It is a symbol of generosity. Generosity is one of the five well-springs of joy," and she sat back looking a little exhausted by her efforts to sustain her argument. The other girl remained silent for a while, processing this information.

"Thank you," she eventually said. "You have brought me joy through your friendship, generosity and knowledge. I have learned number puzzles, shapes and hidden properties. You have brought me a sense of well-being." She paused as if a little overcome by emotion. Vetta could not understand what it was that troubled the blue-haired girl called Truancy so much. Thus she kept silent and sat there awaiting her fate.

"Being healthy is one of the five well-springs of joy," she eventually ventured, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

"That's four of these five well-springs you've mentioned to me this night," the girl said. "What's the fifth? Tell me and I will let you go."

Vetta stiffened. She liked this girl in a way. There was a fascination about her troubled soul that attracted a desire to appease her, to bring her the joy she so much craved. She knew Miss Plazenby would never accept such a pupil in the extremely exclusive school so somehow she had to find another way. She trembled, searching her mind for answers.

"I don't know," she eventually said, tears of disappointment welling up in her dark blue eyes as if from a well-spring of despair. The other girl just stared at her.

"You really don't know, do you," she replied with a smile. Vetta shook her head, short blonde hair fluttering in the lamplight. The girl got up from her seat and went over to where the Poldorama girl sat. She hugged her a moment and then released her, literally.

"I'm letting you go," she said. "We are very close to your school so it is only a short distance for you to walk to reach your friends again."

Vetta stood abruptly, seemingly alarmed at this good news.

"What about you? Won't you get into trouble for holding me hostage?"

"Only if you tell them."

"I won't! I promise." Then she gave the girl an uncertain look. "Where will you go now? What will happen to you?" The thought of suddenly parting from this strange girl and her unknown fate troubled Vetta more than she realised.

"Don't worry about me," she laughed softly. "We are all children of wandering ways. Wherever we go, whatever we do, our destinies are fulfilled as needs be. The Blue Hair Clan have lived in the wild out of the way places of Frangea for generations. We'll turn up again some day. Perhaps by then you'll be a teacher, like you said."

"That would be amazing," Vetta admitted as the two girls walked out into the star filled night again and felt a warm breeze of autumn as it rustled the trees around them. They embraced before parting, perhaps forever.

"As for the fifth well-spring of joy," the girl said.

"Yes?"

"It's you, Vetta. It's you."

THE END