Chapter 3

Sam always enjoyed herself on watch.

She was a naturally early riser, always had been. Like her father in that regard, as in most others apart from the nature of her sex. Up just before the sun, even when night was at its shortest, it hadn't taken much to train her body to wake earlier, allowing her to easily and comfortably take the last watch of the night. Usually she would be the one to relieve Heather, only rarely needing to be woken for her turn.

Heather was now asleep, a quick walk around the camp told her. She was settled next to Cathy, sword at her side. She took her role as protector seriously. More seriously than she should at times, it seemed to Sam. Life was pointless if you did not allow yourself a moment's joy, or pleasure. She was good in a fight, though. Damned good. More hacking and slashing than finesse, but whatever got the job done. That's what her Dad had said. Style points matter little to the dead.

She completed her circuit of the camp. The horses were asleep, two on the ground and one standing. They obviously sensed no danger. The fire was just embers. She'd stir it up in an hour, have some hot coffee ready for them as they woke up. The fairies were somewhere, up in a tree probably. They always took first watch, Sam suspecting that was when they got romantic. Then again, she could just be projecting her actions onto them.

With a sigh, Sam found a comfortable tree and moved around it. Hidden, mostly, from view of human eyes, she slid down the bark and sat herself on the hard ground. Her sword got stuck, awkwardly, so she paused to remove it from her belt, placing it at her side as she wiggled to get comfortable.

A slight breeze rippled through the spring leaves. At least, she thought it was spring. Sam had heard the seasons were different in some parts of the world, which had always confused her. Had they meant the seasons happened at different times? In different orders? Or, hell, new seasons she had never considered? This, though, had the feel of spring. Spring ... the beginning of life. Of romance.

She closed her eyes. Jack. Jack, her love. Husband. He might not consider himself such, she accepted. Only one night together, and a year apart, she might find him married somewhere, or, worse, his memory gone through some evil of The Witch. She thought not, though. Jack ... Jack was...

Nimble fingers undid the buttons on the front of her pants. She didn't bother undoing the belt. That, when the danger was unknown, was unwise. And, unneeded. An opening created, she slipped thin fingers inside, moving aside her undergarment. With a shudder, Sam touched herself.

Pleasure. Life was nothing without pleasure. It could not rule you, no. But, it was part of being human. Of being sane. Slowly, her forefinger moved over her lower lips. She remembered Jack. He had touched her. Fingers, gently, tracing letters on her bare skin. His eyes, so full of sorrow. She remembered that first kiss, standing under the night sky. Raising herself to place her lips on his, hands gently touching his bare arm...

Sam, rarely, brought herself to completion. It wasn't about that. Wasn't about the release. Jack had been the first, the only, to take her there, to that place where love and pleasure and beauty reside. She wanted him again. Wanted the next first time, to be as her first time. Wanted to save herself, not just from others, but from herself. She did indulge at times. When the need to feel became too great, or when the moment overcame her. It was never the goal, though. Tonight, she would just ride the line. Finger wet, she slid it around her slit, over the bump that brought so much joy. Nothing would enter her but Jack. Jack...

A fluttering broke her mood.

She didn't have to look to know who it was. Kik's wings beat with a much stronger sound. This was Lil. There was always the chance, naturally, that she had guessed wrong, and that some stranger had landed beside her. With a groan, Sam opened her eyes.

Lil stood in the faint moonlight on Sam's sword. Her bare black feet blended in with the black grip, eyes staring at the now still human hand with amused interest.

"Wouldn't it be easier to do that without the silly clothing?"

"It's a human thing." Sighing, knowing she was now done for the day, she removed her hand. Sam regarded the wet fingertips for a moment. She sometimes had the urge to taste them, or at least smell them. That was ... weird, though. She especially wasn't going to try that with someone watching. Which, reminded her. "Why are you bothering me?"

"I wanted to watch."

"Couldn't you do that from a distance?" Sam wiped her fingers on a patch of grass next to her sword. Lil's eyes followed.

"So ... spying on you is better than this?"

"No, but ... ah, whatever." She buttoned herself back up, but stayed sitting. She was too comfortable to move at the moment, and what pleasure she had gotten still soothed her.

Lil walked down the sheath of the sword. She was graceful, Sam had to give her that. Be it in the air or on the ground, the fairy moved with inhuman beauty. Her mate, too, although there was a difference between male and female grace. Coming to where Sam had wiped her hands, Lil jumped off onto the ground. She leaned over, sniffing. Sam raised an eyebrow.

"You are doing ... what, exactly?"

"Smelling." Lil looked up, surprise clear on her small face. "You smell good!"

"Um ... thanks?" The question of if she should feel complemented or just weirded out battled in her mind. Lil took another sniff.

"You're welcome. It ... it's an interesting scent. Full, yet delicate. Feminine, definitely." She looked up, eyes sparkling. "I think Kik would like it. I may have to use it as a perfume sometime!" A thought seemed to come to the small woman, and her expression became the frown they all knew and loved. Sensing what the problem was, Sam let out a soft laugh.

"Worry not, my friend. If your husband comes by and becomes entranced by my bewitching scent, I shall turn him away. He may be the only male, but I can resist his charms. Nobody in this camp interests me that way, just as I interest none of them."

The fairy's wings fluttered, the creature lifting off the ground. She came to hover before Sam's face.

"Really..." A slight smile touched her pink lips. "I shall keep that in mind."

Cathy was worried.

They had been traveling for almost a week, since leaving the port. The path, as defined by the magic arrow, had been due west. This had not changed. The land they traveled through, though, was changing. Gone were the small towns, built up at crossroads or where bridges crossed small rivers. Villages were now becoming sparse. In their place, far from the road, were what she could only describe as fortified farms. A main farmhouse, barns, surrounded by a wooden stockade. Workers in the fields were always accompanied by at least one male armed with a bow.

The girl didn't know, or want to know, what they were afraid of.

Her friends were armed, at least. Both had bows of their own, along with swords. Her Knight had the bow that belonged to Sam's father. It was a bit too big for her, true, but she could draw it, and practice had made her rather good to Cathy's eye. Sam was better, but had the advantage of a smaller bow she had made herself, fitting her perfectly. The fairies, naturally, were also armed.

She wished she could help. That was the main thing. Cathy hated being helpless. That was the whole point of this quest. Yet, when danger struck, all she could do was grab the horse's reins and run away. She had asked to be trained with a sword, but Sam had nixed that. Any blade she could use from the horse would be so short, anything she could reach with it would have already killed her mount. A bow was a possibility, but Sam had yet to make her one. Something about not having the right wood.

Sam's horse slowed, the dark form of Kik flying off down the road. Cathy and Heather rode side by side, Sam falling in on the other side of Heather. The girl nodded up ahead.

"Our scout reports a crossroad up ahead. We'll stop, rest the horses."

"Sounds good. I need to stretch my legs." Cathy felt no slight at Heather's remark. Not after all this time. Besides, she, too, needed to get off the horse for awhile. Pee. She had tried doing that on the horse, once, when stopping had not really been an option. Never again.

It was not so much a crossroad, as a cross path. Their road, well traveled and built up with stones and dirt, intersected a similar road traveling north to south (and south to north). On the other side, however, the way west appeared to be by way of two ruts in the grass, old and overgrown. In the distance, forested hills rose up, with snow covered mountains beyond. It was as if this, here, was the end of civilization. Beyond, travelers would be on their own.

Cathy bit her lip. She was not the pampered girl who had fled the palace. She slept on the ground, had gone hungry. Still, always another town had been no more than a day away, always travelers had passed them traveling back where they had been. This...

"Heather," Sam said, dismounting, "let's go over the supplies before we move on." That sounded like a good idea to Cathy.

They came upon the boy in the early afternoon.

Sam gently pulled back on Brownie's reins. The mare came to a stop at the top of the slight rise, the wagon trail continuing on through the spring grass. Putting her hand up, trying to get some of the lowering sun's glare out of her eyes, she peered ahead. Someone was walking up ahead, maybe a hundred yards, maybe less. Depended on their size. They had seen no one that day, nor evidence that the current "road" had been used recently. She had not looked hard, true, as it really didn't matter. This was still a surprise.

"Who is it?" Heather drew her mount Xena up next to Sam's, Cathy stopping just behind them. Glancing back, Sam saw the two fairies resting on the girl's shoulders. Obviously, their last forward patrol had stopped just short of seeing the stranger. She looked ahead again.

"If we know whoever that is," Sam replied, chucking, "I'd say it would be the coincidence of a lifetime." She undid the strap on her sword. "Let's take a look."

The boy stopped in the center of the road as Sam rode up behind him. He was young, perhaps ten, somewhere around there. Thin, with curly brown hair. His dress was simple, tan pants tied with a cord, a pull over white shirt, both worn but in good repair. His dirty feet were bare. In his hands, he held a wooden staff as tall as him. He did not turn to greet them, but held his ground. Sam pulled up five feet behind him.

"Hello, traveler." Sam kept her voice light. She always expected the worst from these situations, but that didn't mean she shouldn't be cheerful at the start. "Hope we didn't startle you, coming up behind like that."

There was a pause. From her high vantage point, she saw his young hands grip the staff tightly, before his body seemed to relax slightly.

"No, no. I'm ... used to be taken by surprise."

"Well that's not good," Sam replied. His voice had been a bit high, although not enough for her to suspect this was not in fact a boy. She was good at determining those things. "We, personally, like knowing who's around us. Could you turn around, so I can get a good look at you?"

There was another moment's hesitation. Slowly, he turned to face them.

Sam heard both Cathy and Heather gasp. She kept her own reaction in check, eyes making sure she was seeing everything clearly. The boy was blind. A white film covered his eyes. Beyond that, he was handsome, well nourished with tan skin. He leaned forward on his staff, head moving back and forth.

"I hear horses, and assume you're on one of them. Either that, or you are very, very tall."