Molly sat on Sonya’s bed, nervously waiting in the glow of an oil lamp. She was a pro at remaining calm when it counted, being a seasoned whore helped her to develop that ability. She should have been able to harness that skill now, but she couldn’t. All she could think about was Sonya, and it was wrecking her. Before waiting awkwardly on the woman’s bed, Molly had been in her own across the house, tossing and turning. She hadn’t been able to sleep for a couple of days now, and each night it had been because Sonya was on her mind.

The thought of the young woman teased and tickled her, day in and day out. Yes, a lot of it was sexual, but also wasn’t. There was a primal need to simply be near her. Molly had eyes for her ever since they first met at the drink house, and the tragedy in town had magnified that little spark into an electrical storm that coursed through her violently. Sonya was special, and Molly wanted the woman all to herself.

Well, aren’t I a greedy bitch? Molly chuckled to herself. The thought made her smile as she looked down at her fidgeting fingers.

The door swung open, and Sonya walked in rubbing her face groggily, sporting a look that showed she had been expecting the increasingly clingy redhead.

“Something told me I’d see you before the morning,” Sonya said to her.

Molly looked up from her tangled hands and smiled. “Oh, really? What gave me away?”

Sonya shrugged. “A feeling, I guess.”

“Will you sit with me?” Molly asked delicately. She could feel Sonya’s eyes on her and guessed her shy demeanor was on such display that it radiated from her like heat from a furnace.

Sonya raised an eyebrow. “I honestly expected you to tell me, not ask.”

Molly shrugged. “Well, you make me all mixed up sometimes, hun.” She felt her heartrate quicken and shuffled one foot over the other, trying to distract herself from the nervousness that boiled up and threatened to overflow.

“This isn’t like you.” Sonya smiled as she sat down on the bed, “It’s kinda freaking me out,” she chuckled.

Molly shared in the woman’s soft laughter herself but didn’t look over at her. She felt stupid. Everyone has doubts about how they could have done some things differently. Molly definitely had hers. The memory of her brash kiss flashed across her mind.

“My confidence is a front. I’m really quite timid,” she said.

“You had me fooled,” Sonya replied.

“Nature of my job, sweetie.” At this, she could see conflicting emotions pass over Sonya’s face and wondered where her mind was going. What are you thinking about?

Molly turned around and crawled to the head of the bed, hoping Sonya would follow suit. She eased down on her back and laced her hands together behind her head, eyes closed. Before long, the bed began to dip and sag here and there as Sonya moved over next to her, resting by her side. A soothing heat accompanied by the almost physical pressure of worried anticipation spread across Molly’s being from head to toe.

Her body began to tingle and become sensitive as she reveled in the closeness. She felt the soft, bare skin of Sonya’s thigh press against her own, and the sensation was enough to send her heart fluttering. The urge to turn and latch onto the beauty next to her was overwhelming as her heart slammed rhythmically against her chest.

Why did this woman make her forget all her experience? She felt like a youth experiencing the joys of the heart for the first time, and it was intoxicating. She wanted to feel like this forever. This maddeningly gorgeous moment that so long eluded her was finally within her grasp, and she didn’t plan on ever letting go. Molly wanted to dive into this pool and throw away all thoughts of resurfacing.

Is this the feeling I missed out on while I spent most my life getting my brains fucked out for some coin? Why didn’t I quit sooner? What the hell is wrong with me?

A gentle hand settled on her stomach and began to caress the skin in a circular pattern. The touch was so delicate, so wanted, yet unexpected. It caused her to flinch, but she relaxed immediately.

“Are you cold?” She heard Sonya ask.

“A bit,” she replied, eyes still closed and maintaining a calm façade.

“Look at you trying to act all cool,” Sonya jabbed with a sweet smile, pulling the blankets over them both.

Molly felt heat rise to her face and turn it a cherry-red in the dimness of the little room. She suddenly felt ridiculous and moved her hands down to her stomach where it met Sonya’s still resting carefully on her abdomen. She wasn’t expecting the joining of fingers, but it happened. Their hands wove into one another, and Molly felt the woman squeeze with a gentle pressure.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Sonya propped up on an elbow and looking down at her, the small light from the oil lamp dancing in her stunning hazel eyes. Molly’s lips parted slightly in a way that screamed of her wanting, and they trembled the tiniest bit from the adrenalin racing through her. Sonya was so close and getting closer still.

Sonya drew in and Molly leaned up to meet her halfway, unable to stand it any longer. She wanted this so fiercely. Their lips met. A torrent of electrified heat zigzagged through her and left her buzzing. Their lips parted, only to join again without pause. Over and over again, they ate and drank of each other. For Molly, it was much more than lust. For her, she was in love with this woman, this person whom she regarded as her savior. The subdued redhead relished the thought that her days as a whore were at an end, but knew in a way, she was still owned by someone. She didn’t care.

Their ravenous entanglement died down to the occasional kiss in between long moments in which they locked eyes and soaked up each other’s gaze. They lied on the bed, intertwined and holding each other tightly, encouraging as much contact as possible. Molly almost cried from an overwhelming feeling of relief at the acceptance. She buried her face, as well as a joyous smile, into Sonya’s chest.

“I was worried I’d come on too strong that night on the porch,” Molly said in a muffled voice as she spoke against the woman’s smooth skin.

“Just caught me by surprise.”

“I’ve felt so stupid for the past couple weeks,” she admitted as Sonya stroked her red curls.

“Well, you can stop beating yourself up over it now.”

“So, you’re ok with this?”

Sonya paused. “I’m not quite sure what this is, but then again, I’ve never been allowed the luxury of romance. How would I know it when I see it?”

Molly lifted her head and looked deeply into Sonya’s eyes. She grabbed the woman’s hand and placed it flat against her pulsating heart. Each beat sent tiny shockwaves through her whole body, and she knew Sonya could feel its intensity.

“Feel that?” She saw Sonya nod as she looked from Molly to her own hand upon the woman’s chest, and back again. “It wants you so desperately that it’s trying to break free. I know you don’t know what this is. I know you probably have your reservations. You might even think I’m crazy.” Sonya started to disagree with her last words, but Molly cut her off. “All I ask is you give me a chance to show you I want you to be my world.” She lifted a trembling hand and caressed Sonya’s cheek. “Please.”

Sonya took a moment to study the face of the desperate woman in the scarce light. It was clear to her this interest bordered on dependency. She had created something when she pulled Molly from the terror bent on stealing her life, like it had so many others. Despite this unhealthy attachment, Sonya liked her. A lot, in fact. She had saved this gorgeous woman. Now she wanted to protect her.

Sonya smiled and grabbed Molly’s face in one hand, lifting it up to her own. She could hear the shaky breathing of the redhead, feel her slight shuddering, sense her racing heart. A soft moan escaped Molly's open mouth as she yearned for Sonya's touch and her eyes looked drugged and addicted. Her legs squirmed and clenched together under the covers and her hands grabbed at the sheets and twisted them in anticipation. She was hungry for words, for contact, for Sonya.

"Are you sure?" Sonya asked her. "I rarely let go when I find something I like."

Sonya continued to study those deep, brown eyes that almost seemed to scream yes. Molly nodded her head as best she could under the blonde's commanding, but gentle grip. With a smile, Sonya kissed her deeply, softly squeezing Molly's cheeks together in her hand and biting her lip at the end.

“Don't wear a mask around me though, there's no need. Just be yourself. I prefer the shy type.” Sonya cooed.

Molly smiled into another deep kiss as Sonya grabbed the red hair on the back of her head and pulled lightly, sending a rush through her that was devastating in its power to render the redhead weakened and useless. She trembled as she was claimed by the woman she knew she was sick for, and their passion lasted until the sun rose over the mountains.

. . .

By the end of the first night, Colt hadn’t gotten the man to speak a single word. By the end of the first two weeks, he learned the knights name and they had regular starlit conversations. It wasn’t hard to see that Jarrek was out of his element amongst this band of corrupt royal swordsmen. He was intelligent, thoughtful, and was naturally skeptical of most things around him until he could get a hands-on appraisal. He was a man of learning and discovery, a thinker. Too good for this lot, as Colt saw it.

The sun had gotten low in the sky and was just creeping behind the mountains, inviting the vast spread of twinkling stars to take their turn in dazzling the world below them with their wonder and brilliance. A light breeze carried the smells of the camp to Colt’s nostrils and filled them with the smoky aroma of burning wood, roasting meat, and the oils the men used to condition their swords and leather.

Jarrek approached the cage, bread and bucket in hand. He wore no armor tonight, so he made little noise as he walked up and set the bucket onto the soft grass. He handed the bread to the big man through the bars. Colt took it and admired its thickness. For the past few nights, Jarrek had been sneaking a piece of meat from the fire in between the two hunks of bread. The behemoth gave one of his small, rare grins and stretched out his freshly unrestrained arms before taking a bite.

“Thank Ovaro for small freedoms, aye?” Jarrek said as he watched the man exercise his new range of movement.

“I’ll thank him for the larger ones, lad, once he grants them to me.”

The other night, Groyce had moved on ahead of the company to the Capitol City to prepare for their arrival. Colt had breathed a sigh of relief at this, for the Captain’s absence, along with the befriending of the Knight Jarrek, meant Colt was able to enjoy some small comforts. He was now able to sit, move his arms, and eat on his own. Very small in the grand scheme of things, but huge in his situation, now that he thought about it. Leaving would soon prove to be a huge mistake on Groyce’s part. Colt would see to it personally.

For now, Colt was biding his time and working his jailer. Honestly, he had come to like the kid. He had a good head on his shoulders. Jarrek had confided in Colt the nature of his recruitment. The lad had signed up so he could travel, fight injustice, and maintain peace. All the things most young boys in Corvallia dream of when imagining themselves older and clad in the plated mail bearing the Royal Crest and the six-pointed star of Ovaro. So far though, he hadn’t signed up for anything he’d seen as a member of their ranks.

Jarrek sat on a short stool with his back to the rest of the men, their fires far enough from the cage to mostly bathe the two loners in shadow as they ate. The knight took a bite of bread with a chunk of rabbit on it. The kill of the night.

“Have they given you any trouble yet?” Colt gestured with a hand to the others.

“Luckily, no. They don’t really care much. As long as they think I’m giving you a hard time, they leave me to it. None of them wanted this job anyway. See it as grunt work. Perfect for fresh meat like myself,” Jarrek said. Colt could tell he was grinning in the darkness.

Colt took another bite of his food and scratched absently at the edges of his burn. It had begun to heal and, by the grace of Ovaro, not get infected.

“They’re nothing but lazy sacks of shit.” Colt spat through the bars of his cage.

“Why do you say that?” Jarrek didn’t care if Colt spoke ill of his fellow knights, but he was curious all the same. Although, he had his own thoughts on the matter.

“This job you have, tending to the enemy, to me. That’s hard. Real fucking men challenge themselves. The killing, the raping. That’s easy, yet they find glory in it. Makes me sick, lad.” He took another bite of his bread and rabbit. “I remember you from the village. You didn’t lift your sword to a single soul.” He added, separating him from his companions.

Jarrek didn’t say anything at first. He was silent and the hoots and hollers from the other men in the distance reigned supreme in the still night.

“I didn’t do anything about it either…” He sounded like someone who had grown pale and ill. “I had nightmares that night.” His words had a haunted quality to them.

“Any sane man would, lad.” The words not only spoke to Jarrek’s morality, but to the lack of it in the other knights who, as far as Colt knew, slept like babies.

“Sometimes I’m ashamed to wear the armor of a Holy Knight.”

“Should be all the time,” Colt spat. “This kingdom is dying. Rotting from the inside out.”

The knight remained silent for a while, deep in thought. “What can be done about it?” He finally asked.

“Cut away the dead flesh so the rot doesn’t spread.”

“Is that what you were doing in the village?” Jarrek asked. “Cutting away dead flesh?” He hiked a thumb over his shoulder towards his fellows.

Colt chuckled, a rarity the knight wasn’t yet aware of. “I’m no saint, boy. I was only there to rescue my partner. She ran into that mess with the aim of saving a few souls. I originally had other, more pressing matters to attend to.”

“Is she normally that chivalrous?” Jarrek smiled.

“Yes, but she’s also complicated. Mostly she’s a hotheaded smartass of a woman. Drives me to the edge of madness most days.” Colt threw his last bit of food into his mouth. “She’ll be expecting me before too long.”

Jarrek rose an eyebrow at him in the darkness. “And if you don’t show?”

“Then she’ll come get me. Although, I hope she doesn’t. I can handle myself well enough. Either way though, lad, I’m going.”

“But you’re locked up and under guard…”

“Your point, boy?”

Jarrek didn’t know what his point was. Here he was in front of a man who had been hunted by the Holy Knights since he himself was a small child. He had made many escapes before and would most likely make many more. What was he to this matter at the end of the day? He looked at Colt in what little light the distant fires could afford. He was massive. For all Jarrek knew, the man could bend the bars and leave right now. Colt was right, he was going, one way or another. The knight could either be in the way or get out of the way. Oddly enough, he didn’t want to stop him.

They sat there in silence with the various whispers of mother nature encroaching on their senses. Neither of them said a word, nor could their expressions be read in the black. After a time, Jarrek stood and walked away, his footfalls growing more and more distant. Soon, Colt was alone.

Some time passed by, and Colt watched as the circle of knights around the fires dwindled more with the passing hours until most were gone, asleep for the night. The few that remained held low conversations with occasional fits of laugher sprinkled in. All held cigarettes which cast glowing tips that hung in the night air. The red-hot cherries bobbed, swayed and swung around seemingly on their own as the men laughed and stumbled in their drunken ways.

Colt stretched out on the floor of the cage, making himself as comfortable as the rough, splintery wood would allow. He closed his eyes, and his mind went to work, thinking of the many ways he could make his escape. He had a couple ideas already; he just hoped Jarrek wouldn’t get in the way of any of them.

He had almost dozed off when he heard footsteps approaching. Colt sat up and strained his eyes to see what or who he was hearing. Then came the metal scrape of a key sliding into the lock of the cage, followed by the tumbling of its inner workings and the solid thunk of the bolt. The door squealed as it swung open. Colt waited at the back of his cell in the pitch black until he heard as well as felt the thud of a bundle landing at his feet.

“Get dressed,” said a voice.

Colt’s mouth curled into the biggest of toothy grins. Good lad. Colt thought to himself. Good lad.

He began to empty the sack of its contents and throw on what clothing and gear Jarrek could recover. He felt more and more himself as he went through his belongings and put them in their proper place. Once fully clothed, he patted himself down to see what he was missing. A couple things, sadly, but one in particular stung worse than the others.

“Where’s my-” Colt began with a grumble as a pouch of what he assumed was tobacco sailed through the air, struck his chest, and fell to the floor in between his feet.

“I’m coming with you,” he heard Jarrek say.

Colt’s grin broadened more as he stooped to grab the pouch. “Kid, you’ve earned it.”

. . .

Every morning, he woke up, got dressed, walked to the tree on the hill outside town, and talked. Sometimes it was to the woman in the dirt below his bent knees, sometimes it was to Ovaro. When his words were meant for the lover, they were sweet and filled with longing. When they were words meant for his Lord, however, they usually amounted to questions and curses.

Why was always brought up in his talks with the silent god. Why put him through this? Why take his mother? Why take Aimee? As the days went on, he spoke to Ovaro less and less. Pretty soon, it was not at all. Somehow, he was fine with that. Thomas never much cared for the Gods anyway. All they did was take.

Thomas leaned down and kissed the dirt covering Aimee’s grave, then stood and kissed the mighty tree guarding her. He turned and took in the scenery stretching out from the hill. A gentle breeze swept in and tousled the grassy fields, launching waves across the flowing, green surface. It was a moving sight that always managed to lift his spirits. It still did to some, if only a less significant, degree. This special place had, since the razing of Yalum, adopted a dullness that he knew was there only for his eyes to see.

He thought on Sonya’s words of advice. He had been searching for his own answer ever since but had found none. Sometimes, he heard tiny, black whispers in the back of his mind. Little evil things that pricked and poked at his morality. He always shoved them down and they quieted, but they always came back later, scratching and gnawing.

He descended the hill, walked back to the lonely dirt road, and headed home. He was relieved the wind mainly blew to the north, carrying the smells, and therefore the reminder of the Yalum massacre, away from him and his friends. Thomas knew they’d eventually have to leave, there was no doubt about that. How could they stay on the doorstep of this hellscape? It was madness.

He entered his empty home. The few survivors had healed enough to pack up and make the trip to Keln. It was just the three of them now, and he was thankful for it. He wasn’t equipped to deal with the plight of others, having enough of his own already. He’d have to thank Sonya for tending to them. It seemed she was everyone’s hero. Despite her fears, she was a strong woman.

Thomas walked back outside and sat on the porch, staring off into the blue sky. Soon he heard footsteps from inside the house and the door opened, a giggling pair of women joining him on the steps.

“Want a smoke?” Sonya asked as she sat down, Molly claiming a spot between her legs on the next step down in front of her.

“Please,” the man replied, not taking his gaze from the sparce clouds strewn across the sky.

“Want to learn to roll one yourself?” She asked as she handed Molly her own paper with a heap of tobacco on it to roll herself.

Thomas looked over and saw what Molly was doing. She cradled the creased paper between the thumb and forefinger of one had, supporting it from underneath with her middle, and spread out the brown leaf in a line inside the depression it made as it dipped down and back up. She rolled it from the bottom up and licked the end to seal it. Seemed easy enough.

“Yeah, sure.” He accepted the paper and tobacco and attempted what he had just seen. To his surprise, it was difficult, and came out dilapidated and useless.

“Takes practice, I have to admit,” Sonya said after a light chuckle.

She took the mess from him and recovered the tobacco, rolling him a fresh one that was neat and even, and handed it over. They smoked in silence for the first round. By the time they were on their second cigarette, though, Thomas spoke up.

“I think we should leave.” He said as smoke rose from his cigarette and flowed around his face.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Sonya replied. She took a lengthy pull and exhaled.

“Would we go to Keln?” Molly chimed in.

“For supplies,” Sonya replied, “but after stopping there, we’ll head north to Lela. Colt will know to meet us there once he’s free. We have friends who will take us in for a time.”

“How do you know he’ll be able to escape and meet up with us?” Asked Thomas.

Sonya smiled. “You don’t know Colt. He’ll meet us. Don’t worry about it.”

“I believe you.” Thomas took another puff.

“I thought about getting him out myself, but I know he can handle himself. He’d want us to move on and not worry, anyway. So, we will.”

Molly leaned back into Sonya’s chest and sighed out a plume of smoke. “How long is the journey to Lela, hun?”

Sonya kissed the crown of her head. “About five days from Keln.” She saw her smoke was spent and flicked it off into the dirt. Molly reached up and brought her own to Sonya’s lips. She pulled from it and exhaled.

Thomas watched this display with a raised eyebrow. Obviously, he had missed something. He shrugged and tossed his own away as well after one last drag, then stood up. “We should prepare for the trip then. What supplies do we have?”

“A fair amount on my horse. A pan, flint and steel, a spare cloak, one blanket, and some random odds and ends. Plus, enough dried food to last us a couple days. Four if we ration.”

Thomas nodded. “Good. That’ll get us to Keln, at least. I’ll go inside and gather some things.”

“I have enough for Molly and myself. Grab what you need and a horse that’s ready to travel.” She paused. “And Thomas…we won’t be coming back for a long time…if at all. Take care of anything you need to.” The look she gave him was suddenly filled with pain, like she mourned for his sanity.

Thomas nodded again, but the gesture had weight to it, had gravity. He stood for a moment longer, lost in his own mind, then turned and walked inside the house.

He went through his room, grabbing a spare set of clothes, an old cloak he never wore from a hook on the wall, a hunting knife, and a bow with a handful of arrows he had made a few years ago for hunting small game and scaring away coyotes and wolves. It wasn’t in the best of shape, but it would do. Thomas rounded up a few other things from around the house and bundled it in two spare blankets from the closet, tying it all together with a strip of leather.

He was headed for the door when he heard an inner voice whispering in the corner of his mind. It was his own, but off somehow, and carried a hint of malice that sent a shiver up his spine. He waited and listened again, his body starting to spike his system with small amounts of adrenaline, but nothing came.

“I need to get more sleep,” he said to himself, convinced his mind was tired and ready to leave this place behind him.

Thomas walked out the door, not bothering to say goodbye to the old house, which was out of character for him. Maybe he was just tired after all. He walked down the steps and rounded the corner of his home to the stables where he saw Sonya tending to her horse and belongings, Molly right there at her heels. He unbolted one of the gates and led out his favorite horse, patting its neck and comforting the animal.

“Molly, can you ride?” Thomas asked her.

“No, I’ve never ridden before.”

Thomas looked at Sonya. “What do you think?”

Sonya thought for a moment. “She can ride with me today, and you the next to give my horse a break. Sound good?”

Thomas nodded. “I’ll let loose the other two horses then. No sense in leaving them penned up.”

“I can try to ride,” Molly offered. “I don’t want to be a burden to anyone.”

But you are a burden, Thomas thought. He noticed right away how unlike him that sounded and shook his head to clear it, and looked over at Sonya for her opinion.

“You sure, babe?” She asked Molly. Sonya raised her hand and rested it on the redhead’s cheek. Molly leaned into it and turned to kiss the palm.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she said with more confidence.

“Can you saddle another horse, Thomas?” Sonya asked.

“Yeah. Divide your gear to lighten the load on your horse while I arrange it.”

Thomas prepared a second horse for Molly, making sure to choose the more docile of the remaining two steeds. The other, he bid farewell to and gave a good swat on the ass. It kicked up dust as it sped off the property and into the distance.

In seemingly no time at all, they were on the road and headed for Keln. Molly, sporting Sonya’s spare cloak, rode atop her horse with some uncertainty, but it wasn’t long before she steadied, and her uneasiness vanished. She was a natural. With each one of them to a horse, they’d save some time.

Good. I’d hate to be inconvenienced by dead weight. The thought swooped in and crowded his mind. Again, he realized how unnatural the words sounded in his head and quickly snuffed them out, more than a little disturbed.

Thomas neared the split in the road that led to the tree where Aimee was buried. He bet Sonya fully expected him to stop and take some time here, to say a few words and mourn. He also bet it was a shock to her understanding of the man when he kept his horse at its steady trot, not slowing even a little. Thomas didn’t so much as glance over at the towering tree.

With his back to the two women, they didn’t see he was crying. Didn’t see the pain in his eyes. What terrified Thomas, though, was exactly that. They didn’t see. They didn’t see that he had no choice. Didn’t see he couldn’t move his arms to steer his horse around. Didn’t see the panic in his face as his mind flooded with thoughts that were in his own voice, but not of his own making. Thoughts that bit, clawed, and sunk their teeth deep into him and refused to let go. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he sensed something hideous grinning and growing stronger.